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I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. I've got to think.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Time
Think
Thinking
Rewards
Sorry
Feel
Feels

More quotes by Libba Bray

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Maybe girls need an island to find themselves. Maybe they need a place where no one's is watching them so they can be who they really are
Libba Bray
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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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Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
Libba Bray
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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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I had thought Felicity dangerous a moment ago, when she felt powerful. I was wrong. Wounded and powerless, she is more dangerous than I could imagine.
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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.
Libba Bray
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We create the illusions we need to go on.
Libba Bray
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They swoon over Tom, who preens for them, bowing, which sets them to blushing and giggling. God help us all.
Libba Bray
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They don't know what they're in for at Spence, getting me, a ghost of a girl who'll nod and smile and take her tea but who isn't really here.
Libba Bray
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My personal motto is: WWWWD?: What Would Wonder Woman Do?
Libba Bray
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People will believe anything if it means they can go on with their lives and not have to think too hard about it.
Libba Bray
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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
Libba Bray
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But sons are a different matter to a man. More a duty than an indulgence.
Libba Bray
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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.
Libba Bray
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Sometimes I see things, I think. Out of the corner of my eye, taunting me, and then it’s gone. And dreams. Such horrible dreams. What if something terrible happened to me? What if I am damaged? The rain is a cool kiss on my sleeve as I link my arm with hers. We’re all damaged somehow.
Libba Bray
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They see her differently now, as somebody. And isn't that what everyone wants? To be seen?
Libba Bray
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She smiled as sweetly as a show poster for the glorified, all-American Ziegfeld girl just before dumping her second cigarette into Wally’s fresh cup of coffee.
Libba Bray
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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.
Libba Bray
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You can never know about about your own destiny: are the people you meet there to play a part on your oun destiny, or do you exist just to play a role in theirs?
Libba Bray
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No one had ever said anything like that to Evie. Her parents always wanted to advise or instruct or command. They were good people, but they needed the world to bend to them, to fit into their order of things. Evie had never really quite fit, and when she tried, she’d just pop back out, like a doll squeezed into a too-small box.
Libba Bray