Quote

What makes a girl a girl? What makes a guy a guy? Do you have to be what they want you to be? Or do you stop and listen to that voice inside you? I know who I am. I'm Petra West. And I'm a girl. You want me to sleep somewhere else, fine. Whatever. But I'm not going to pretend to be somebody I'm not. I've done enough of that.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Enough
Sleep
Pretend
Going
Guy
Somewhere
Whatever
West
Voice
Listen
Girl
Inside
Makes
Fine
Else
Somebody
Done
Stop
Petra

More quotes by Libba Bray

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I love you for who you are, not who the world thinks you should be.
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She shrieks above the din. If you wish a battle, I shall give it. I am the last of my kind. I shall not lie down without a fight.
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Nobody Wants to be themselves. That's why there's tv. -Ephigenia.
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There are no safe choices. Only other choices.
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Does my new feminism make me look fat?
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What do you feel? I’ve never been asked this question once. None of us has. We aren’t supposed to feel. We’re British.
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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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Promise. Don't misunderstand me-you are quite vexing. He touches his tender jaw. And you hit like a man. But you didn't cause his illness. That is his doing.
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No one can live in the light all the time.
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Helloooo. Miss Ohio rolled her eyes. I'm from the Buckeye State. We are serious about our tailgating parties. I can turn anything into a grill.
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She wished she were as inconsequential as the ghosts in her dreams.
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But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?
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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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Evie was so nervous that she downed her cocktail in two stiff swigs, then refilled her glass. Henry arched an eyebrow. “A pro, I see.” “What else is there to do in Ohio?
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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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Could I have a Sloe Gin Fizz, without the gin? What's the point of that, Miss? the waiter said. Tomorrow morning, Mabel said.
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Please do not strain yourself, Miss Doyle. I won't have my girls going cross-eyed in the name of art.
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There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
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Taylor clapped for attention. “Miss New Mexico, let’s not get all down in the bummer basement where the creepy things live. There are people in heathen China who don’t even have airline trays. We have a lot to be grateful for.
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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.
Libba Bray