Maggie Stiefvater Quotes

I hit my head against the wall because I don't want to know all the terrible things that I know about. I don't want to feel all these wretched things, but they're in me already. If I don't get rid of them, I'm not ever going to feel anything else.

I didn't know what to say. I felt like crying, Goddammit everybody in the world wants an explanation for your acts and for your very being.

She carried a knife inside of herself now, one that was always cutting her. She could feel it every time she swallowed, every time her thoughts strayed from the splendor of the wild.

You're using your headphones to drown out your mind

Her mind lives tidily, apart from cold and noise and pain. And bolts the door against her heart, out wailing in the rain.

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place, where was a den; and I laid me down in that place to sleep: and as I slept I dreamed a dream. I dreamed, and behold I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and a great burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled: and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry; saying, 'What shall I do?'

I hate this, I want this to stop, how are we supposed to live with this, and how am I supposed to walk away? You’re real and I hate you for it.

Anxiety and Ennui are the Scylla and Charybdis on which the bark of human happiness is most often wrecked.

If I cried me a river of all my confessions, would I drown in my shallow regret?

[However], the sufferer from depression has no option, and therefore finds himself, like a walking casualty of war, thrust into the most intolerable social and family situations. There he must ... present a face approximating the one associated with ordinary events and companionship. He must try to utter small talk and be responsive to questions, and knowingly nod, and frown and, God help him, even smile.

How could I know a famished heart will eat its mind? Can kill its body?

I could be going through something in my life that I might not want to talk about in my music because my music is the way that I escape some of those things.

something is always falling apart in me.

Before my eyes are many miserable scenes, the suffering of others and myself forces my hands to move. I become a machine for writing.

And so, resisting the temptation to wallow in artistic remorse, I prefer to leave both well and ill alone and to think about something else

There is a gulf as wide as an ocean between should and want, and I am drowning in it.

Hatred makes me energetic, but confused.

So much pressure in this life of mine, I cry at times, I once contemplated suicide and woulda tried, but when I held that nine, all I could see was my mama's eyes, no one knows my struggle, they only see the trouble, not knowing it's hard to carry on when no one loves you.

Added to their loveliness was a new mysterious suffering, perfectly silent, visible in the blue puffiness beneath their eyes or the way they would sometimes stop in mid-stride, look down, and shake their heads as though disagreeing with life.

There was hell in her eyes! She was worn and jaded Her soul is at war with the life she has led. As I looked on that face so strangely faded I wonder God did not strike me dead.

Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles.

I want that. I want that awful intense and serious unhappiness, cos then I might feel better, and then I might be happy.

It was maddening how your best friend could twist the knobs inside of you so much that it hurt.

Inside your own self pity there you swim, in sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you, and only with your laughter can you win.

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything, I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic shops, and courtyards with washing hanging from the line: underwear, towels and shirts from which slow dirty tears are falling.