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The world is only as fair as you can make it. Takes a lot of fight. A lot of fight. But if you stay in here, in your little cave, that's one less fighter on the side of fair.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Takes
Cave
Sides
Caves
Fighting
Fighter
Less
Fairs
Littles
Fair
Little
Stay
Make
Fight
World
Side

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They kept the lie going, and the people loved it.
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There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie’s opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.
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We're like pretty horses, and just as on horses, they mean to put blinders on us so we can't look left or right but only straight ahead where they would lead.
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Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
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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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Don't you? if you keep them from the magic, they will never know what their lives could be.' They will remain protected,' Asha insists. No, 'I say. 'Only untested.
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- So my own sister will not promote me? Speaking of which, weren't you supposed to find me a beautiful future wife with a small fortune? Have you had any success on that front? - Yes - I have warned them all.
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We create the illusions we need to go on.
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We don't look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.
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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?
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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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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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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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I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. I've got to think.
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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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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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The wolf was at the door. His shadow spilled into the room, taking it over.
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They see her differently now, as somebody. And isn't that what everyone wants? To be seen?
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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.
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