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Tell my brother to remember his heart in all things. That is where his honor and his destiny will be found. Tell him.
Libba Bray
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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Things
Destiny
Honor
Brother
Tell
Found
Remember
Heart
More quotes by Libba Bray
To live is to love, to love is to live.
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What happened to the winner Adina asked. She tripped. And the first runner-up? Miss Michigan cracked her knuckles. She tripped, too.
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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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Board the cows! We've come to enslave your marigolds.
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No, I call. Come back. I'm here, he says. But I can't see. It's too bright. You can't hold back the light, Gemma. I'm here. Trust me.
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So, now I've been to see a drug counselor who told me I need to lay off the drugs and talk about my feelings, and a shrink who heard what I had to say and immediately put me on drugs.
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No one can steal our dream.
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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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Does my new feminism make me look fat?
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She's no beauty, mate
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What --- you don't believe in true love? Petra asked. The kind that can then be parlayed into awesome merchandising opportunities? - Beauty Queens
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Dead bodies are such trouble,” Evie said with a little sigh, and Mabel had to turn her head away so as not to laugh.
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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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Nobody Wants to be themselves. That's why there's tv. -Ephigenia.
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A man bumps me on his busy way without so much as an apology. But that is all right. I forgive you, busy man about town with the sharp elbows. Hail and farewell to you! For I, Gemma Doyle, am to have a splendid Christmas in London town. All shall be well. God rest us merry gentlemen. And gentlewomen.
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You evah hear of a magic screw?' I cough back a laugh. 'No. No, sir.
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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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Truth casts a spell of its own.
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Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
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There are no safe choices. Only other choices.
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