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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.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Says
Better
Live
Make
World
Gemma
Pull
Worse

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I told myself it was the snow—she couldn’t possibly get to Philadelphia on the roads. I told myself a hundred lies. Children do that. It’s amazing the sorts of things you’ll make yourself believe.
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It's so laughable that it's somewhere beyond comedy and right into tragedy again.
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I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
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I love you for who you are, not who the world thinks you should be.
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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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I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must. Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.
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And just as I begin to believe that all is well, there is some subtle change in the light. The room takes its true shape. I fight to go back to that blissful ignorance, but it is too late. The dull pain of truth weights my soul, pulling it under. I am left hopelessly awake.
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Evie was so nervous that she downed her cocktail in two stiff swigs, then refilled her glass. Henry arched an eyebrow. “A pro, I see.” “What else is there to do in Ohio?
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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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Please, I'm a transgender former boy-bander. You think I don't know how to defend myself?
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Centuries of fighting, and for what? I say. Today it ends. I can't live in fear any longer. I've cursed this power. I've both enjoyed and misused it. And I've hidden it away. Now I must try to wield it correctly, to marry it to a purpose and hope that is enough.
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She knew what it was to wait for someone who would never come home. She knew that grief, like a scar, faded but never really went away.
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Reason was for suckers and Presbyterians.
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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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How can my ankles and arms be obscene?
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There's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.
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