Quote

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.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Across
Cheeks
Cold
Delicate
Murmured
Hear
Soft
Catches
Prayer
Branches
Gems
Gentle
Trail
Leaves
Bend
Lows
Trails
Fingers
Breeze

More quotes by Libba Bray

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My dad was a Presbyterian minister. Yes, I am one of those dreaded P.K.s - Preachers Kids. Be afraid.
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What you want can be yours. But you must first know what it is you want.
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Helloooo. Miss Ohio rolled her eyes. I'm from the Buckeye State. We are serious about our tailgating parties. I can turn anything into a grill.
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Peace is not happenstance. It is a living fire that must be fed constantly. It must be tended to with vigilance, else it dies out.
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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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Life don’t come to you, Memphis. You gotta take it. We have to take it. Because ain’t nobody handing it to us.
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Why does everyone want to own me? Pippa mumbles. She's got her head in her hands. Why do they all want to control my life -- how I look, whom I see, what I do or don't do? Why can't they just let me alone? Because you're beautiful, Ann answers, watching the fire lick her palm. People always think they can own beautiful things.
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Petra turned to her. Everybody lies about who they are. Name one person here who isn't doing that and I will drop out right now! Shanti felt that snake of truth coil around her legs, threatening to squeeze. I didn't mean... No one ever does. Petra said, shoving the baton back at Shanti.
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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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The uncertainty of our future is nothing more than a fog of breath on a windowpane.
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Naughty John, Naughty John, does his work with his apron on. Cuts your throat and takes your bones, sells 'em off for a coupla stones.
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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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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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It's possible to pretend I'm someone other than who I am, and if I pretend long enough, I can believe it.
Libba Bray
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What took you so long?” Will asked when Evie came panting into the room. He and Jericho had assembled a stack of books, which they were tucking into Will’s attaché case. “I walked to Jerusalem for the Bible. I knew you’d want an original,” Evie snapped.
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I've heard it said that God is in the details. It's the same with the truth. Leave out the details, the crucial heart, and you can damn someone with the bare bones of it.
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You can never know about about your own destiny: are the people you meet there to play a part on your oun destiny, or do you exist just to play a role in theirs?
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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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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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If there was one truth Evie had learned in her short life, it was that forgiveness was easier to seek than permission. She didn’t plan to ask for either one.
Libba Bray