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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
More quotes by Libba Bray
There is no greater power on this earth than story.
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This is the world we live in, Gemma, for better or for worse. Make of it what you can, he says, and I pull him to me.
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We create the illusions we need to go on.
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Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it
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I'm sorry, Gemma. But we can't live in the light all of the time. You have to take whatever light you can hold into the dark with you.
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The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
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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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She is the elephant’s eyebrows,” Evie whispered appreciatively. “Those jewels! How her neck must ache.” “That’s why Bayer makes aspirin,” Mabel whispered back, and Evie smiled, knowing that even a socialist wasn’t immune to the dazzle of a movie star.
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We have traveled through space and time. We have been many places. Visited many worlds. And there is good news: the acoustics everywhere are terrific.
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Think: who has vans, huh? Soccer moms and serial killers.
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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.
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I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
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She's no beauty, mate
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Reason was for suckers and Presbyterians.
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It is funny how you do not miss affection until it is given, but once it is, it can never be enough you would drown in it if possible.
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Just once I’d like to meet a fella who isn’t a phony. Somebody who doesn’t wanna buy me a fur so he can show me off to his boys.
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So much of the literature we had to read for high school English class was filled with victimized, tragic, symbolic women who spurred the plot forward with their inevitable shunning/death/shunning-followed-by-pregnancy-followed-by-death timelines.
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Hot off the presses, today’s headlines: The love of your life does not approve of my wanton flapper ways,” Evie said in a voice of affected mystery. “Really, Mabesie. You might want to reconsider—he is a bit of a killjoy.
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In every end, there is also a beginning.
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I'd like to thank readers. Every time you open a book, it is a strike against ignorance. Unless you're reading Sarah Palin.
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