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But aren't many gardens beautiful because they are imperfect?...aren't the strange, new flowers that arise by mistake or misadventure as pleasing as the well-tended and planned?

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Strange
Pleasing
Mistake
Planned
Beauty
Imperfect
Beautiful
Flowers
Wells
Arise
Well
Garden
Misadventure
Many
Flower
Tended
Aren
Gardens

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Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
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We've barley stepped into the bright glow of the realms when everything goes dark.
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No one had ever said anything like that to Evie. Her parents always wanted to advise or instruct or command. They were good people, but they needed the world to bend to them, to fit into their order of things. Evie had never really quite fit, and when she tried, she’d just pop back out, like a doll squeezed into a too-small box.
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There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
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In our travels, we have come across many equations--math for understanding the universe, for making music, for mapping stars, and also for tipping, which is important. Here is our favorite equation: Us plus Them equals All of Us. It is very simple math. Try it sometime. You probably won’t even need a pencil.
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I wish to live for myself. I should never want to be trapped.
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Next time we see you, you’ll be on trial for some ingenious crime!” Dottie said with a laugh. Evie grinned. “Just as long as they know my name.
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She wished she were as inconsequential as the ghosts in her dreams.
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Because it is morning, it is morning, and there is so much to see.
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Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains.
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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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They swoon over Tom, who preens for them, bowing, which sets them to blushing and giggling. God help us all.
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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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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.
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That's what living in their world is-a big lie. An illusion where everyone looks the other way and pretends that nothing unpleasant exists at all, no goblins of the dark, no ghosts of the soul.
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What makes a girl a girl? What makes a guy a guy? Do you have to be what they want you to be? Or do you stop and listen to that voice inside you? I know who I am. I'm Petra West. And I'm a girl. You want me to sleep somewhere else, fine. Whatever. But I'm not going to pretend to be somebody I'm not. I've done enough of that.
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I'm just saying it's not all sand castles and ninjas.
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Why should we girls not have the same privileges as men? Why do we police ourselves so stringently- whittling each other down with cutting remarks or holding ourselves back from greatness with a harness woven of fear and shame and longing? If we do not deem ourselves worthy first, how shall we ever ask for more?
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I'm floating inside my skin. I could go on floating like this for days. Right now, the real world with its heartbreak and disappointments is just a pulse against the protective membrane we've drunk ourselves into. It's somewhere outside us, waiting. A Great and Terrible Beauty, Page 141, by
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They kept the lie going, and the people loved it.
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