Maggie Stiefvater Quotes

Someday girl, I don't know when, were gonna get to the place where we really want to go, and we'll walk in the sun. But til then, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.

American dreams are strongest in the hearts of those who have seen America only in their dreams.

The human heart is as a frail craft on which we wish to reach the stars.

None who have always been free can understand the terrible fascinating power of the hope of freedom on those who are not free.

Dreams rise like the sun and set like the sun: One minute, it is high and bright; the next minute, you might lose it.

Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.

Birds fly over the rainbow. Why then, oh, why can't I?

Nothing is written stone, child. Even if it were, the stones can be shattered

And one day we will die and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea. But for now we are young; let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see.

A dream of life comes to me, like a catfish dancing on the end of the line.

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

I was not content at home. . . I wanted to live like a colorful butterfly in the sun.

Jack: Where to, Miss? Rose: To the stars.

Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness without beginning or end.

They know these mornings well and love them desperately because they cannot last - these people who know that nothing lasts.

The world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms timidly, and struggles to the light amid the thorns.

Birds fly Over The Rainbow. Why then, oh why can't I? If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?

There is a door. It opens. Then it is closed. But a slip of light stays, like a scrap of unreadable paper left on the floor, or the one red leaf the snow releases in March

Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, where art thou gone? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? Ask why the sunlight not for ever Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain-river, Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown, Why fear and dream and death and birth Cast on the daylight of this earth Such gloom, why man has such a scope For love and hate, despondency and hope?

Someday the sun is going to shine down on me in some faraway place.

I'd like my life to be like a Bruce Springsteen song. Just once. I know I'm not born to run, I know that Seven Sisters' Road is nothing like Thunder Road, but feelings can't be different, can they?

I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend... I can pretend that things last.

May all your dreams but one come true, for what is life without a dream?

Words and feathers the wind carries away.

Happiness should always remain a bit incomplete. After all, dreams are boundless.