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There is a time in every life when paths are chosen, character is forged. I could have chosen a different path. But I didn’t. I failed myself.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Character
Different
Every
Forged
Time
Paths
Life
Failed
Chosen
Path
Didn

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We're all damaged somehow.-A Great and Terrible Beauty
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One can never go back. One always has to move forward.
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The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
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Do not be tempted by English roses. Their beauty fades, but their thorns are forever.
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They see her differently now, as somebody. And isn't that what everyone wants? To be seen?
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In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.
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It is a giggle full of high spirits and merry mischief, proof that we never lose our girlish selves, no matter what sort of women we become.
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It is funny how you do not miss affection until it is given, but once it is, it can never be enough you would drown in it if possible.
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Agent Jones held Sinjin’s face in his hands. “I’m going to make balloon animals. People need balloon animals.” “How right you are, strange delusional man,” Sinjin said.
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Brought to you by The Corporation: In your homes and in your pants.
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But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?
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Will you punish me forever?
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I love you for who you are, not who the world thinks you should be.
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Don't you? if you keep them from the magic, they will never know what their lives could be.' They will remain protected,' Asha insists. No, 'I say. 'Only untested.
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Does my new feminism make me look fat?
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He took comfort in the neon signs, the wild strands of jazz creeping out of clubs whenever happy swells of people pushed through the doors in their finery.
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When you looked up to the sky and cried 'Why?' sometimes the sky shrugged, yet other times it answered with warm assurance of linked hands.
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There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
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We don't look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.
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Reminds us that greatness lies even in the smallest of moments, in the humblest of hearts, and we shall, each of us, be called to greatness. Whether we shall rise to meet it or let it slip away is the challenge put before us all.
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