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I hate high heels. Walking in high heels for eight hours a day should be forbidden by the Geneva Convention.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Forbidden
Conventions
Heels
Eight
Walking
High
Hours
Geneva
Hate
Convention

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The desperation meeting the silence with its unmasked wish.
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What --- you don't believe in true love? Petra asked. The kind that can then be parlayed into awesome merchandising opportunities? - Beauty Queens
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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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On the Bowery, in the ornate carcass of a formerly grand vaudeville theater, a dance marathon limps along. The contestants, young girls and their fellas, hold one another up, determined to make their mark, to bite back at the dreams sold to them in newspaper advertisements and on the radio. They have sores on their feet but stars in their eyes.
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In them, she saw the sham of her life laid out like a book, the foolish belief that she, that anyone, could escape the consequences of this world, could flee from death. That was the deceit. The true serpent in the garden.
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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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Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains.
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Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
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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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Just once I’d like to meet a fella who isn’t a phony. Somebody who doesn’t wanna buy me a fur so he can show me off to his boys.
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We've barley stepped into the bright glow of the realms when everything goes dark.
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Tell my brother to remember his heart in all things. That is where his honor and his destiny will be found. Tell him.
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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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Theta crashed next to them on the thick zebra-skin rug. “I’m embalmed.” “Potted and splificated?” “Ossified to the gills. Time for night-night.
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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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Why does everyone want to own me? Pippa mumbles. She's got her head in her hands. Why do they all want to control my life -- how I look, whom I see, what I do or don't do? Why can't they just let me alone? Because you're beautiful, Ann answers, watching the fire lick her palm. People always think they can own beautiful things.
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There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie’s opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.
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I'm just saying it's not all sand castles and ninjas.
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