Anna-Marie McLemore Quotes & Sayings

A black semiplume, the barbs striped deep red, crossed her palm. She lifted it to her face, and her breath trembled the afterfeather. A perfect copy of the plume still burned into her arm, first a curse, now the only thing she had to prove that he had ever touched her. — Anna-Marie McLemore

...both he and she were creek beds, quiet when they were full and quiet when they were dry. But when they were half-full, wearing a coat of shallow water, the current bumped over the rocks and valleys in the creek beds, wearing down the earth. Giving someone else a little of who they were hurt more than giving up none or all of it. — Anna-Marie McLemore

He thought the feud was live ash a boot heel could stomp out. He didn't notice it burning down both their houses. — Anna-Marie McLemore

That family was el Diablo on earth, with dark wings strapped to their bodies, French on their tongues, a sprinkling of gypsy blood. — Anna-Marie McLemore

He thought Kraft Singles contained, within a few inches, all American evils. — Anna-Marie McLemore

She was every shade of blue between two midnight's

When the Moon Was Ours — Anna-Marie McLemore

When they both realized they were heartbroken enough to want the love torn from their rib cages, they touched each other with their hands and their mouths, and they forgot they wanted to be cured. — Anna-Marie McLemore

They had both been beaten by men who decided that the only things worth less than their souls were their bodies. Cluck — Anna-Marie McLemore

The sense of falling did not touch her, not as long as her body was between the hands of this boy who felt steadier in the air than on the ground. — Anna-Marie McLemore

He wore his loneliness like his scar. — Anna-Marie McLemore

He was beautiful in ways that made him ugly to his family. — Anna-Marie McLemore

No boy was ever so interesting to them as when he was interesting to someone else. — Anna-Marie McLemore

This is the thing I learned from loving a transgender boy who took years to say his own name: that waiting with someone, existing in that quiet, wondering space with them when they need it, is worth all the words we have in us. — Anna-Marie McLemore

They're expected to forget everything they knew about being anything other than what they're supposed to be. — Anna-Marie McLemore

They prickled her like thorns and leaves growing under her skin, and she felt the ache of a glass vine caging her forearm. They would crack, and the jagged pieces would cut into her wrists. Her blood would tint the glass. It would splinter and cut deeper into her. — Anna-Marie McLemore

She smelled like halved apples and the new metal of sewing needles and a little like cinnamon. — Anna-Marie McLemore

The scar on her forearm meant she could never be loyal to her family. Her name meant she could never be loyal to the Corbeaus. The only one left to be loyal to was him. — Anna-Marie McLemore

The difference between baptism and drowning is a few faithless breaths. — Anna-Marie McLemore