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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
Mean
Straight
Would
Horse
Like
Lead

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The wolf was at the door. His shadow spilled into the room, taking it over.
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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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There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
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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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Truth casts a spell of its own.
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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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Who the heck is Don Quick-oats?
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There’s a moment of profound sadness that can be dispelled only by summoning my anger.
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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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There is no greater power on this earth than story.
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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.
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Memphis found his smile. 'You know me, sir. I don't wear worry.
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There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India. It says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.
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This is the world we live in, Gemma, for better or for worse. Make of it what you can, he says, and I pull him to me.
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You evah hear of a magic screw?' I cough back a laugh. 'No. No, sir.
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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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The uncertainty of our future is nothing more than a fog of breath on a windowpane.
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Around us the night creatures have their say. We are surrounded by a symphony of crickets and frogs. Neither of us feels the need to speak, and I suppose that is one of the qualities I find comforting in Kartik. We can be alone together.
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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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