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When you looked up to the sky and cried 'Why?' sometimes the sky shrugged, yet other times it answered with warm assurance of linked hands.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Linked
Cried
Warm
Sky
Looked
Times
Shrugged
Hands
Assurance
Sometimes
Answered

More quotes by Libba Bray

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I'm sorry,' he says simply. 'People make mistakes, Gemma. We take the wrong action for the right reasons, and the right action for the wrong reasons.
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I should never be left alone with my mind for too long.
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I shan't ever understand your willingness to lie down and die, Felicity bars. If you won't at least try to fight, I have no sympathy for you.
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Do you think they missed him terribly when he fell? Did God cry over his lost angel, I wonder?
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I want to ask him if it’s possible that a girl can be born unlovable, or does she just become that way?
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Cash or check?” he said cheekily. Even the dullest Ohio girls knew that bit of lingo: Kiss now or kiss later? “Bank’s closed, pal.
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People aren't always what you want them to be
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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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Goodbye, I whisper at last, when it no longer matters and there is no one to hear it but the window.
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People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.
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How I'd love to get away from here and be someone else for a while in a place where no one knows or expects certain things from me.
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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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Her eyes take on that suspicious, wounded look girls get when they know they've fallen off the top rung of friendship and someone else has passed them, but they don't know when or how the change took place.
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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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We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.
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It's always darkest before the ultimate sparkle.
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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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Harold Brodie is a louse and a lothario who cheats at cards and has a different girl in his rumble seat every week. That coupe of his is pos-i-tute-ly a petting palace. And he’s a terrible kisser to boot.” Evie’s parents stared in stunned silence. “Or so I’ve heard.
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I change the world, the world changes me.
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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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