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Goodbye, I whisper at last, when it no longer matters and there is no one to hear it but the window.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Matter
Whisper
Goodbye
Matters
Window
Longer
Hear
Lasts
Last

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They swoon over Tom, who preens for them, bowing, which sets them to blushing and giggling. God help us all.
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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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Oh, I didn't think it wise to hide it. Might not be able to find it again, I say, cheerily. It's sitting in plain view on your chair in the great hall. I do hope that was the best place for it.
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Retribution is a dog chasing its tail.
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How can my ankles and arms be obscene?
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That's what living in their world is-a big lie. An illusion where everyone looks the other way and pretends that nothing unpleasant exists at all, no goblins of the dark, no ghosts of the soul.
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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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Any book that can help you survive the slings and arrows of adolescence is a book to love for life 'The Catcher in the Rye' did just that, and I still do love it.
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Because it is morning, it is morning, and there is so much to see.
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It keeps her purity vacum-sealed to preserve its freshness for her future husband.
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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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I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
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There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
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People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.
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I'm going to eviscerate you and leave your organs on a pike in the yard as a warning to those who wear large jewelry.
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Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains.
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I hate high heels. Walking in high heels for eight hours a day should be forbidden by the Geneva Convention.
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I wouldn’t expect you to get it, Daisy. You don’t look at anything besides Photoplay—and even then somebody’s gotta explain the pictures to you.” Daisy’s mouth hung open in outrage. “Well, I never!” “Yeah, that’s what you tell all your fellas, but the rest of us aren’t buying it. Go away, now, Daisy. Shoo, little fly!
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Tonight, she went into the woods, and I fear she shall live in the woods of my soul for the rest of my days.
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I can be whatever. You can be whatever. We can be whatever. Whatever, together.
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