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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
Suckers
Sucker
Worse
Ordinary
Opinion
Things
Evie

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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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There is no greater power on this earth than story.
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Evie wanted to cry. From fear. From exhaustion, yes. But mostly from the cruel uselessness, the damned stupid arbitrariness of it all.
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I've been poked and prodded in places I'd always prided myself on keeping untouched for that one special doctor who gives me a ring and a promise someday.
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When you looked up to the sky and cried 'Why?' sometimes the sky shrugged, yet other times it answered with warm assurance of linked hands.
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The key holds the truth
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She knew what it was to wait for someone who would never come home. She knew that grief, like a scar, faded but never really went away.
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War. Gorgon spits the word. That is what they call it to give the illusion of honor and law. It is chaos. Madness and blood and the hunger to win. It has always been thus and shall always be so.
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Adina gave a little shriek. That fish just swam past my leg! Creepy! Where did it go? To your right! Two o'clock! Get it! You are officially the most bloodthirsty vegetarian ever.
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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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They swoon over Tom, who preens for them, bowing, which sets them to blushing and giggling. God help us all.
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...I took Advanced PowerPoint last semester. You guys are always misunderestimating me. I'm totally ready to handle the big stuff.
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I can be whatever. You can be whatever. We can be whatever. Whatever, together.
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She never utters a sound even when she's crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn't seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.
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People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.
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I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
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I don't know. Sometimes, I feel nothing, and I'm so afraid. Afraid I'll stop feeling anything at all. I'll just slip away inside myself...I just need to feel something A Great and Terrible Beauty, Page 177, by
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