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The wolf was at the door. His shadow spilled into the room, taking it over.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Spilled
Wolf
Door
Shadow
Doors
Taking
Room
Rooms

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To those who will see, the world waits.
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No person has ever held all the power. There must be a balance between chaos and order, dark and light. With the Temple magic bound to you, the realms are no longer in balance. The power could change you... and you could change the magic.
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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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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.
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It keeps her purity vacum-sealed to preserve its freshness for her future husband.
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Who the heck is Don Quick-oats?
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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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When she can't bring me to heal with scolding, she bends me to shape with guilt.
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I don't have time to feel sorry for myself. I've got to think.
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I run after her, not really giving chase. I’m running because I can, because I must. Because I want to see how far I can go before I have to stop.
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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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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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A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer--Gem-ma, Gem-ma--and then the leaves bend down and trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.
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Scoring well on tests is the sort of happy thing that gets the school district the greenbacks they crave. Understanding and appreciating the material are secondary.
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People aren't always what you want them to be
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I refuse to let the past find me here.
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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.
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When you peeled back the skin, you were dealing with bone and muscle, blood and nerve endings. It was all the same. She liked the beautiful logic of the circulatory system, the elegance of the neurological, and the fierce warrior spirit of the heart. The body had rules and it had quirks.
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Maybe girls need an island to find themselves. Maybe they need a place where no one's is watching them so they can be who they really are
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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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