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Naughty John, Naughty John, does his work with his apron on. Cuts your throat and takes your bones, sells 'em off for a coupla stones.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Work
Throat
Sells
Bones
John
Apron
Stones
Aprons
Cutting
Naughty
Takes
Cuts
Doe
Ems

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Any book that can help you survive the slings and arrows of adolescence is a book to love for life 'The Catcher in the Rye' did just that, and I still do love it.
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But sons are a different matter to a man. More a duty than an indulgence.
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You are absolute angels of the first order. If I were Pope, I’d canonize you.” “The Pope would probably love to turn a cannon on you!
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When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now he’s come to me, waving from a distant shore as if he’s been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesn’t utter a word, but his smile says everything: I’ve missed you.
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I want to ask him if it’s possible that a girl can be born unlovable, or does she just become that way?
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If there was one truth Evie had learned in her short life, it was that forgiveness was easier to seek than permission. She didn’t plan to ask for either one.
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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.
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I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
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Tell my brother to remember his heart in all things. That is where his honor and his destiny will be found. Tell him.
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Will you punish me forever?
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To those who will see, the world waits.
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There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie’s opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.
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It's possible to pretend I'm someone other than who I am, and if I pretend long enough, I can believe it.
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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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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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Mawah meenon ne le plus poohlala, I say with an affected bow.
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I'm floating inside my skin. I could go on floating like this for days. Right now, the real world with its heartbreak and disappointments is just a pulse against the protective membrane we've drunk ourselves into. It's somewhere outside us, waiting. A Great and Terrible Beauty, Page 141, by
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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.
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May I suggest that you all read? And often. Believe me, it's nice to have something to talk about other than the weather and the Queen's health. Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
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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.
Libba Bray