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The police have asked for my help. There's been a murder. A murder! Oh, my. Let me just change my shoes, Evie said excitedly. It won't be a minute.

Libba Bray

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Libba Bray
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: March 11
Novelist
Writer
Texas
United States
Help
Excitedly
Helping
Evie
Change
Minute
Murder
Police
Shoes
Asked
Minutes

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A man bumps me on his busy way without so much as an apology. But that is all right. I forgive you, busy man about town with the sharp elbows. Hail and farewell to you! For I, Gemma Doyle, am to have a splendid Christmas in London town. All shall be well. God rest us merry gentlemen. And gentlewomen.
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No? Part girl, part wolf? Do they lick their butter knives?
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Sometimes I see things, I think. Out of the corner of my eye, taunting me, and then it’s gone. And dreams. Such horrible dreams. What if something terrible happened to me? What if I am damaged? The rain is a cool kiss on my sleeve as I link my arm with hers. We’re all damaged somehow.
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Women who have power are always feared.
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Don't you? if you keep them from the magic, they will never know what their lives could be.' They will remain protected,' Asha insists. No, 'I say. 'Only untested.
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They see her differently now, as somebody. And isn't that what everyone wants? To be seen?
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Truth casts a spell of its own.
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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 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.
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The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
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Or perhaps it is some combination of spirit and desire, love and hope, some alchemy that we each possess and can put to use, if we first know where to look without flinching.
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If this were a movie, I would bust a secret move so fierce the entire place would be razed to the ground. I'd finish with something snappy like And don't forget my soda, punk while I strolled off into the night.
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They kept the lie going, and the people loved it.
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Will you punish me forever?
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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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What --- you don't believe in true love? Petra asked. The kind that can then be parlayed into awesome merchandising opportunities? - Beauty Queens
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You are working up to Mr. Fantastic Fiction levels of Zombie Expert, which is like playing Guitar Hero on some level that actually melts the guitar controller, burning your fingers with searing hot plastic till you scream in pain. Only with words. And zombies.
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What do you feel? I’ve never been asked this question once. None of us has. We aren’t supposed to feel. We’re British.
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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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Do you think they missed him terribly when he fell? Did God cry over his lost angel, I wonder?
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