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I still can't understand how Cecil and my old tutor, Fitz, got along so well, when we often called Fitz 'the Genius' and avoided calling Cecil anything at all, so as not to be rude.

Franny Billingsley

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Franny Billingsley
Age: 70
Born: 1954
Born: July 3
Author
Writer
Anything
Calling
Wells
Genius
Well
Along
Called
Fitz
Understand
Cecil
Often
Tutor
Stills
Avoided
Still
Rude

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If you don't argue, you can't give in.
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Life and stories are alike in one way: They are full of hollows. The king and queen have no children: They have a child hollow. The girl has a wicked stepmother: She has a mother hollow. In a story, a baby comes along to fill the child hollow. But in life, the hollows continue empty.
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I hated myself, but I also loved myself in a hateful way.
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People think me a sort of Florence Nightingale, but I have no heroic qualities. I simply don’t feel very much.
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A poem doesn’t come out and tell you what it has to say. It circles back on itself, eating its own tail and making you guess what it means.
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Did I kill him?” I said. “No, miss,” said Robert. “Pity.
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There are no preconditions for jealousy. You don't have to be right, you don't have to be reasonable. Take Othello. He was neither right nor reasonable, and Desdemona ended up dead. I wouldn't mind Leanne ending up dead. I wouldn't mind exploding her into fireworks of peacock and pearl.
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Let’s hope she’s like the others, who look only at the surface. Let’s hope she’d never think that a girl with black-velvet eyes and cut-glass cheekbones could be a witch.
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I don't mean to be ungrateful but if someone's out there answering prayers, mine's not at the top of the list
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Yes, I'm shallow, I don't mind admitting it. Perhaps I should admit that there's no end to the depths of my shallowness.
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I explained we lost the porch to the flood. Father hasn't gotten around to rebuilding it, although he's quite a good carpenter. He says if Jesus was a carpenter, its good enough for a clergyman. But I don't remember that Jesus let his house fall down.
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You don’t mind when he stares at you.” Cecil jerked his head toward Eldric. He doesn’t stare,” I said. “He looks.
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Blast Cecil!” said Eldric. “You have my permission,” I said.
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The boy shall have a proper beating,' said Cecil. 'But I beat him already,' I said, 'and don't tell me I didn't do it properly. I'm touchy about these things.
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Even a witch wants sympathy.
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Imagine a world without shadows. You cannot touch a shadow, but a world without them is a hard world, and flat.
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Father sighed. “Please spare me these arguments of yours.” “Whose arguments should I use?
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It’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.
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Secrets press inside a person. They press the way water presses at a dam. The secrets and the water, they both want to get out.
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It's one thing to keep secrets. It's quite another to lie.
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