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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
Remember
Heart
Things
Destiny
Honor
Brother
Tell
Found

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Her eyes take on that suspicious, wounded look girls get when they know they've fallen off the top rung of friendship and someone else has passed them, but they don't know when or how the change took place.
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Sometimes I see things, I think. Out of the corner of my eye, taunting me, and then it’s gone. And dreams. Such horrible dreams. What if something terrible happened to me? What if I am damaged? The rain is a cool kiss on my sleeve as I link my arm with hers. We’re all damaged somehow.
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Don't you? if you keep them from the magic, they will never know what their lives could be.' They will remain protected,' Asha insists. No, 'I say. 'Only untested.
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In every end, there is also a beginning.
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Memphis found his smile. 'You know me, sir. I don't wear worry.
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Adina gave a little shriek. That fish just swam past my leg! Creepy! Where did it go? To your right! Two o'clock! Get it! You are officially the most bloodthirsty vegetarian ever.
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I want to ask him if it’s possible that a girl can be born unlovable, or does she just become that way?
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Mawah meenon ne le plus poohlala, I say with an affected bow.
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All things are possible.
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Because you don't notice the light without a bit of shadow. Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right.
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- 'Music opens your soul, makes you ready.' - 'Ready for what?' - He smiles big. 'Exactly.
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Really? And what curse befalls the Adams of the world? Ann opens her mouth and, presumably thinking of nothing to say, closes it again. It is Felicity who answers, eyes steely. They are weak to temptation. And we are their temptresses.
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Cash or check?” he said cheekily. Even the dullest Ohio girls knew that bit of lingo: Kiss now or kiss later? “Bank’s closed, pal.
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Write like it matters, and it will.
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To those who will see, the world waits.
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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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Why should we girls not have the same privileges as men? Why do we police ourselves so stringently- whittling each other down with cutting remarks or holding ourselves back from greatness with a harness woven of fear and shame and longing? If we do not deem ourselves worthy first, how shall we ever ask for more?
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Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
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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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No one can live in the light all the time.
Libba Bray