Quote

She never utters a sound even when she's crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn't seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Right
Hear
Even
Stop
Never
Sound
World
Makes
People
Doesn
Utters
Seems
Crying
Littles
Cry
Little
Seem

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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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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 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's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.
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You evah hear of a magic screw?' I cough back a laugh. 'No. No, sir.
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In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.
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Clothing left on the bed unfolded. Books stained with coffee spots. Tabs not paid until the last possible second. Boys kissed and then forgotten in a week’s time.
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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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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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Board the cows! We've come to enslave your marigolds.
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I've heard it said that God is in the details. It's the same with the truth. Leave out the details, the crucial heart, and you can damn someone with the bare bones of it.
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Does my new feminism make me look fat?
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In every end, there is also a beginning.
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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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It's as if I've inherited a skin I cannot quite fit, and so I walk about constantly pulling and and tugging, pinning and pruning, trying desperately to fill it out, hoping that no one will look at me struggling and say, 'That one there- she's a fraud, Look how she doesn't fit at all.
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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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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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Scoring well on tests is the sort of happy thing that gets the school district the greenbacks they crave. Understanding and appreciating the material are secondary.
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Mawah meenon ne le plus poohlala, I say with an affected bow.
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I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
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