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But the past cannot be changed, and we carry our choices with us, forward, into the unknown. We can only move on.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Move
Changed
Choices
Moving
Cannot
Past
Unknown
Carry
Forward

More quotes by Libba Bray

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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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Your mother and I do not approve of drinking. Have you not heard of the Eighteenth Amendment?” “Prohibition? I drink to its health whenever I can.
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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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She hadn’t meant to get trapped in a conversation. That was the trouble with offering help to old people.
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There is no greater power on this earth than story.
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A place to keep all your secrets
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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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But you've changed,' I whisper. 'Haven't you?' It is the scorpian's nature to sting. Just because he has no opportunity doesn't mean that he cannot.
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My misery is reaching epidemic proportions.
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There are no safe choices. Only other choices.
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Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
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I'd like to thank readers. Every time you open a book, it is a strike against ignorance. Unless you're reading Sarah Palin.
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Did they find something wanting in you, Gemma, at the party? You didn’t speak too freely or behave…strangely?” I grew claws and bayed at the moon. I confessed that I eat the hearts of small children. I told them I like the French.
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I wish to live for myself. I should never want to be trapped.
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Because there's nothing wrong with you... that can't be fixed.
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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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Evie didn’t mind yelling, but she hated feeling judged. It got under her skin and made her feel small and ugly and unfixable.
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Write like it matters, and it will.
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In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.
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If there was one truth Evie had learned in her short life, it was that forgiveness was easier to seek than permission. She didn’t plan to ask for either one.
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