Quote

When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now he’s come to me, waving from a distant shore as if he’s been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesn’t utter a word, but his smile says everything: I’ve missed you.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Says
Utter
Waiting
Arrive
Word
Nights
Doesn
Distant
Night
Missed
Dream
Shore
Everything
Several
Waving
Come
Smile
Patiently

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You are absolute angels of the first order. If I were Pope, I’d canonize you.” “The Pope would probably love to turn a cannon on you!
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Yes, go on. Leave. You're always coming and going. The rest of us are stuck here. Do you think he'd still love you if he knew who you are? He doesn't really care—only when it suits him.
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I'm going to eviscerate you and leave your organs on a pike in the yard as a warning to those who wear large jewelry.
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I want to ask him if it’s possible that a girl can be born unlovable, or does she just become that way?
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No one can live in the light all the time.
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It's as if I've inherited a skin I cannot quite fit, and so I walk about constantly pulling and and tugging, pinning and pruning, trying desperately to fill it out, hoping that no one will look at me struggling and say, 'That one there- she's a fraud, Look how she doesn't fit at all.
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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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Women who have power are always feared.
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We're like pretty horses, and just as on horses, they mean to put blinders on us so we can't look left or right but only straight ahead where they would lead.
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Judge not, lest ye be judged.
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I can be whatever. You can be whatever. We can be whatever. Whatever, together.
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The wolf was at the door. His shadow spilled into the room, taking it over.
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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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Maybe girls need an island to find themselves. Maybe they need a place where no one's is watching them so they can be who they really are
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The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
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Oh, sure. Of course, they say now that we’ve got Freud and the motorcar, God is dead.” “He’s not dead just very tired.
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No one can steal our dream.
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