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
Cold
Delicate
Murmured
Hear
Soft
Catches
Prayer
Branches
Gems
Gentle
Trail
Leaves
Bend
Lows
Trails
Fingers
Breeze
Across
Cheeks

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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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You’ve been assigned an identity since birth. Then you spend the rest of your life walking around in it to see if it really fits. You try on all these different selves and abandon just as many. But really it’s about dismantling all that false armor, getting down to what’s real. -Going Bovine
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We create the illusions we need to go on.
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Harold Brodie is a louse and a lothario who cheats at cards and has a different girl in his rumble seat every week. That coupe of his is pos-i-tute-ly a petting palace. And he’s a terrible kisser to boot.” Evie’s parents stared in stunned silence. “Or so I’ve heard.
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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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There is no greater power on this earth than story.
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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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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 happens if your choice is misguided, You must try to correct it But what if it’s too late? What if you can’t? Then you must find a way to live with it.
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When you looked up to the sky and cried 'Why?' sometimes the sky shrugged, yet other times it answered with warm assurance of linked hands.
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He took comfort in the neon signs, the wild strands of jazz creeping out of clubs whenever happy swells of people pushed through the doors in their finery.
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Because 'You're perfect just the way you are,' is what your guidance counselor says. And she's an alcoholic.
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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 can see his pain, see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, over and over, and I understand what it costs him to hide it all.
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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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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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There is never any turning back Gemma. You have to go forward. Make the future yours.
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They kept the lie going, and the people loved it.
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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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Things aren't good or bad in and of themselves. It's what we do with them that makes them so.
Libba Bray