Quote

She smiled as sweetly as a show poster for the glorified, all-American Ziegfeld girl just before dumping her second cigarette into Wally’s fresh cup of coffee.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Girl
Smiled
Shows
Cigarette
Cups
Wally
Fresh
Dumping
Coffee
Sweetly
Second
Glorified
American
Poster
Show
Posters

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Or perhaps it is some combination of spirit and desire, love and hope, some alchemy that we each possess and can put to use, if we first know where to look without flinching.
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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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You set fire to my house, killed my family, and ate my dog. But steal my boyfriend? That's a step too far.
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I change the world, the world changes me.
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Warning: If you are insufferable, do not walk here. We shall eat you down to the marrow.
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People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.
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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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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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How can my ankles and arms be obscene?
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We all do things we desperately wish we could undo. Those regrets just become part of who we are, along with everything else. To spend time trying to change that, well, it's like chasing clouds.
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I wish to live for myself. I should never want to be trapped.
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Memphis found his smile. 'You know me, sir. I don't wear worry.
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Please, I'm a transgender former boy-bander. You think I don't know how to defend myself?
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- 'Music opens your soul, makes you ready.' - 'Ready for what?' - He smiles big. 'Exactly.
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Dead bodies are such trouble,” Evie said with a little sigh, and Mabel had to turn her head away so as not to laugh.
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Reality is a state of mind. To the banker, the money in his ledger book is all very real, though he doesn't actually see it or touch it. But to the Brahma, it simply doesn't exist the way the air and the earth, pain and loss do. To him, the banker's reality is folly. To the banker, the Brahma's ideas are as inconsequential as dust.
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He took comfort in the neon signs, the wild strands of jazz creeping out of clubs whenever happy swells of people pushed through the doors in their finery.
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I'm just saying it's not all sand castles and ninjas.
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I refuse to let the past find me here.
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Can we really conquer chaos so easily? If that were so, I should be able to prune the pandemonium of my own soul into something neat and tidy rather than this maze of wants and needs and misgivings that has me forever feeling as if I cannot fit into the landscape of things.
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