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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.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Pretty
Left
Look
Blinders
Looks
Horses
Right
Ahead
Straight
Mean
Horse
Would
Lead
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Evie wanted to cry. From fear. From exhaustion, yes. But mostly from the cruel uselessness, the damned stupid arbitrariness of it all.
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There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie’s opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.
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Board the cows! We've come to enslave your marigolds.
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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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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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Women who have power are always feared.
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You are working up to Mr. Fantastic Fiction levels of Zombie Expert, which is like playing Guitar Hero on some level that actually melts the guitar controller, burning your fingers with searing hot plastic till you scream in pain. Only with words. And zombies.
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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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In each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice... No one can live in the light all the time.
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Hot off the presses, today’s headlines: The love of your life does not approve of my wanton flapper ways,” Evie said in a voice of affected mystery. “Really, Mabesie. You might want to reconsider—he is a bit of a killjoy.
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There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
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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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There is a time in every life when paths are chosen, character is forged. I could have chosen a different path. But I didn’t. I failed myself.
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Yes, go on. Leave. You're always coming and going. The rest of us are stuck here. Do you think he'd still love you if he knew who you are? He doesn't really care—only when it suits him.
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Write like it matters, and it will.
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Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
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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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There's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.
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I love you for who you are, not who the world thinks you should be.
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