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There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie’s opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Opinion
Things
Evie
Suckers
Sucker
Worse
Ordinary

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We have traveled through space and time. We have been many places. Visited many worlds. And there is good news: the acoustics everywhere are terrific.
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There are no safe choices. Only other choices.
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How terrible it is to have no cares, no longings. I do not fit. I feel too deeply and want too much. As cages go, it is a gilded one, but I shall not live well in it or any cage for that matter.
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It isn't that we do what we want. It's that we're allowed to want at all.
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One can never go back. One always has to move forward.
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Jericho lay back down on his side, watching her breathe just an arm's length from him. She was not beautiful while she slept her mouth hung open and she snored very lightly, and this, despite everything that had happened, made him smile.
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She wished she were as inconsequential as the ghosts in her dreams.
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She loved attention. It was like a glass of the best champagne—bubbly and intoxicating—and as with champagne, she always wanted more of it. Still, she didn’t want to seem like an easy mark. “If you must know, I’ve come to join a convent,” Evie said, testing him.
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To live is to love, to love is to live.
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Your mother and I do not approve of drinking. Have you not heard of the Eighteenth Amendment?” “Prohibition? I drink to its health whenever I can.
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I told myself it was the snow—she couldn’t possibly get to Philadelphia on the roads. I told myself a hundred lies. Children do that. It’s amazing the sorts of things you’ll make yourself believe.
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Tonight, she went into the woods, and I fear she shall live in the woods of my soul for the rest of my days.
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Because 'You're perfect just the way you are,' is what your guidance counselor says. And she's an alcoholic.
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These are hard times. The world hurts. We live in fear and forget to walk with hope. But hope has not forgotten you. So ask it to dinner. It's probably hungry and would appreciate the invitation.
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It is funny how you do not miss affection until it is given, but once it is, it can never be enough you would drown in it if possible.
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To those who will see, the world waits.
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Truth casts a spell of its own.
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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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And just as I begin to believe that all is well, there is some subtle change in the light. The room takes its true shape. I fight to go back to that blissful ignorance, but it is too late. The dull pain of truth weights my soul, pulling it under. I am left hopelessly awake.
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Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
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