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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
Everything
Several
Waving
Come
Smile
Patiently
Says
Utter
Waiting
Arrive
Word
Nights
Doesn
Distant
Night
Missed
Dream
Shore

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In them, she saw the sham of her life laid out like a book, the foolish belief that she, that anyone, could escape the consequences of this world, could flee from death. That was the deceit. The true serpent in the garden.
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I love you for who you are, not who the world thinks you should be.
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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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There are times when one friend requires the blind faith of another.
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You can’t blame a fella for kissing the prettiest girl in New York, can you, sister?” Sam’s grin was anything but apologetic. Evie brought up her knee quickly and decisively, and he dropped to the floor like a grain sack. “You can’t blame a girl for her quick reflexes now, can you, pal?
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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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It's so laughable that it's somewhere beyond comedy and right into tragedy again.
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There is never any turning back Gemma. You have to go forward. Make the future yours.
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Board the cows! We've come to enslave your marigolds.
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You set fire to my house, killed my family, and ate my dog. But steal my boyfriend? That's a step too far.
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It's possible to pretend I'm someone other than who I am, and if I pretend long enough, I can believe it.
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Do not be tempted by English roses. Their beauty fades, but their thorns are forever.
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The mere suggestion of fame and fortune casts a glamour all its own. It is rather alarming how quickly people will turn someone else's fiction into fact in order to support their own fictions of themselves.
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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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She never utters a sound even when she's crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn't seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.
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The world is only as fair as you can make it. Takes a lot of fight. A lot of fight. But if you stay in here, in your little cave, that's one less fighter on the side of fair.
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I'm just saying it's not all sand castles and ninjas.
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There was something about the island that made the girls forget who they had been. All those rules and shalt nots. They were no longer waiting for some arbitrary grade. They were no longer performing. Waiting. Hoping. They were becoming. They were.
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Please do not strain yourself, Miss Doyle. I won't have my girls going cross-eyed in the name of art.
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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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