Quote

Could I have a Sloe Gin Fizz, without the gin? What's the point of that, Miss? the waiter said. Tomorrow morning, Mabel said.

Libba Bray

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Waiter
Miss
Missing
Tomorrow
Morning
Point
Without
Fizz
Gin

More quotes by Libba Bray

Image
No one had ever said anything like that to Evie. Her parents always wanted to advise or instruct or command. They were good people, but they needed the world to bend to them, to fit into their order of things. Evie had never really quite fit, and when she tried, she’d just pop back out, like a doll squeezed into a too-small box.
Libba Bray
Image
I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
Libba Bray
Image
But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?
Libba Bray
Image
I shan't ever understand your willingness to lie down and die, Felicity bars. If you won't at least try to fight, I have no sympathy for you.
Libba Bray
Image
I'm sorry,' he says simply. 'People make mistakes, Gemma. We take the wrong action for the right reasons, and the right action for the wrong reasons.
Libba Bray
Image
I can see his pain, see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, over and over, and I understand what it costs him to hide it all.
Libba Bray
Image
We have work to do if you are not to be a total failure like high-waisted, acid-wash jeans.
Libba Bray
Image
There are no wrong decisions ― only different ones.
Libba Bray
Image
No one can steal our dream.
Libba Bray
Image
No, I call. Come back. I'm here, he says. But I can't see. It's too bright. You can't hold back the light, Gemma. I'm here. Trust me.
Libba Bray
Image
How can my ankles and arms be obscene?
Libba Bray
Image
Women who have power are always feared.
Libba Bray
Image
It keeps her purity vacum-sealed to preserve its freshness for her future husband.
Libba Bray
Image
I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
Libba Bray
Image
Oh, sure. Of course, they say now that we’ve got Freud and the motorcar, God is dead.” “He’s not dead just very tired.
Libba Bray
Image
People will believe anything if it means they can go on with their lives and not have to think too hard about it.
Libba Bray
Image
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.
Libba Bray
Image
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.
Libba Bray
Image
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.
Libba Bray
Image
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.
Libba Bray