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In books, the truth makes everything good and fine. The good prevail. The wicked are punished. There is happiness. But it's not like that really, is it? No, I say. I suppose it only makes everything known.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Truth
Prevail
Everything
Wicked
Book
Suppose
Really
Fine
Good
Books
Like
Known
Happiness
Makes
Punished

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I invited myself. Thought this table needed some class.
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Any book that can help you survive the slings and arrows of adolescence is a book to love for life 'The Catcher in the Rye' did just that, and I still do love it.
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These are hard times. The world hurts. We live in fear and forget to walk with hope. But hope has not forgotten you. So ask it to dinner. It's probably hungry and would appreciate the invitation.
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A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer--Gem-ma, Gem-ma--and then the leaves bend down and trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.
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She shrieks above the din. If you wish a battle, I shall give it. I am the last of my kind. I shall not lie down without a fight.
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Sometimes I see things, I think. Out of the corner of my eye, taunting me, and then it’s gone. And dreams. Such horrible dreams. What if something terrible happened to me? What if I am damaged? The rain is a cool kiss on my sleeve as I link my arm with hers. We’re all damaged somehow.
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So much of the literature we had to read for high school English class was filled with victimized, tragic, symbolic women who spurred the plot forward with their inevitable shunning/death/shunning-followed-by-pregnancy-followed-by-death timelines.
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Please, I'm a transgender former boy-bander. You think I don't know how to defend myself?
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How can my ankles and arms be obscene?
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But sons are a different matter to a man. More a duty than an indulgence.
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Around us the night creatures have their say. We are surrounded by a symphony of crickets and frogs. Neither of us feels the need to speak, and I suppose that is one of the qualities I find comforting in Kartik. We can be alone together.
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On the Bowery, in the ornate carcass of a formerly grand vaudeville theater, a dance marathon limps along. The contestants, young girls and their fellas, hold one another up, determined to make their mark, to bite back at the dreams sold to them in newspaper advertisements and on the radio. They have sores on their feet but stars in their eyes.
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Everything is randomly connected.
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Because 'You're perfect just the way you are,' is what your guidance counselor says. And she's an alcoholic.
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Because you don't notice the light without a bit of shadow. Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right.
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There's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.
Libba Bray
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This is the world we live in, Gemma, for better or for worse. Make of it what you can, he says, and I pull him to me.
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The uncertainty of our future is nothing more than a fog of breath on a windowpane.
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The hand you hold the longest is your own.
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I shan't ever understand your willingness to lie down and die, Felicity bars. If you won't at least try to fight, I have no sympathy for you.
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