Quote

Clothing left on the bed unfolded. Books stained with coffee spots. Tabs not paid until the last possible second. Boys kissed and then forgotten in a week’s time.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Lasts
Bed
Tabs
Last
Forgotten
Unfolded
Left
Paid
Stained
Book
Second
Kissed
Time
Boys
Clothings
Week
Clothing
Books
Spots
Possible
Coffee

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What you want can be yours. But you must first know what it is you want.
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There’s a moment of profound sadness that can be dispelled only by summoning my anger.
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In a world like this one, only the random makes sense.
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Goodbye, I whisper at last, when it no longer matters and there is no one to hear it but the window.
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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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I am creating an atmosphere! Oh, Unc, we’ve finally got bodies in this joint! Paying bodies. We could have a good racket going here.” “I’m not interested in a ‘racket.’ I’m an academic.” “That’s okay, Unc. I won’t hold it against you.
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But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all?
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She bestowed the blessing of a wild girl's lips.
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No one can steal our dream.
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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'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.
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There is never any turning back Gemma. You have to go forward. Make the future yours.
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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.
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But aren't many gardens beautiful because they are imperfect?...aren't the strange, new flowers that arise by mistake or misadventure as pleasing as the well-tended and planned?
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It is a giggle full of high spirits and merry mischief, proof that we never lose our girlish selves, no matter what sort of women we become.
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I hate high heels. Walking in high heels for eight hours a day should be forbidden by the Geneva Convention.
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