Libba Bray Quotes - Page 13

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Pippa's laugh is bitter, tinged with tears. 'Ha! Why do girls think being beautiful will solve every problem? Being beautiful just creates problems. It's a misery. I wish I were someone else.

Libba Bray

Beautiful, Girl, Thinking

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Forget your pain. It was what I said when I took Father's hand in the drawing room yesterday, what I repeated again tonight. But I didn't mean this. I must be careful. Yet what bothers me isn't the power of the magic or how, to a person, they've all accepted it as truth. No, what unsettles me the most is how much I want to believe it too.

Libba Bray

Pain, Father, Believe

Libba Bray (2010). “The Sweet Far Thing”, p.177, Simon and Schuster

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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

Lying, Fighting, Trying

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No person has ever held all the power. There must be a balance between chaos and order, dark and light. With the Temple magic bound to you, the realms are no longer in balance. The power could change you... and you could change the magic.

Libba Bray

Dark, Light, Order

Libba Bray (2010). “The Sweet Far Thing”, p.67, Simon and Schuster

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We don't look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.

Libba Bray

Girl, Wish, Looks

Libba Bray (2010). “The Sweet Far Thing”, p.38, Simon and Schuster

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The sun has blessed you," Sarita used to say. "Look how he has left his kisses on your face for all to see and be jealous." "The sun loves you more," I said, rubbing my hands over her dry arms, the color of an aged wine gourd, and she laughed. But this is not India and we are not prized for our freckles here. The sun is not allowed to show his love.

Libba Bray

Blessed, Love You, Jealous

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Theta crashed next to them on the thick zebra-skin rug. “I’m embalmed.” “Potted and splificated?” “Ossified to the gills. Time for night-night.

Libba Bray

Zebras, Night, Skins

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She loved attention. It was like a glass of the best champagne—bubbly and intoxicating—and as with champagne, she always wanted more of it. Still, she didn’t want to seem like an easy mark. “If you must know, I’ve come to join a convent,” Evie said, testing him.

Libba Bray

Glasses, Attention, Want

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There is no greater power on this earth than story.” Will paced the length of the room. “People think boundaries and borders build nations. Nonsense—words do. Beliefs, declarations, constitutions—words. Stories. Myths. Lies. Promises. History.” Will grabbed the sheaf of newspaper clippings he kept in a stack on his desk. “This, and these”—he gestured to the library’s teeming shelves—“they’re a testament to the country’s rich supernatural history.

Libba Bray

Country, Lying, Thinking

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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.

Libba Bray

Order, People, Parent

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What Hamlet suffers from is a lack of zombies. Let us say Rosencrantz and Guildenstern show up—Ho-HO! Now you’ve got something that stirs the, um, something that stirs things that are stirrable. BOOM! A pack of ravenous flesh-eaters breaks open their heads and sucks out their eyeballs. No need for iambic pentameter because they are grunting, groaning annihilators of humanity with no time for meter. You’re not asleep in the back of English class anymore, are you? This is what I’m talking about. Zombies. Learn it, live it, love it.

Libba Bray

Talking, Class, Humanity

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There's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.

Libba Bray

Difficult, Discovering, Discovering Who You Are

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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.

Libba Bray

Stars, Knowing, Jewels

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A place to keep all your secrets

Libba Bray

Secret

Libba Bray (2010). “The Sweet Far Thing”, p.395, Simon and Schuster

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I'm a librarian, not an oracle.

Libba Bray

Oracles, Librarian

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I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.

Libba Bray

Each Day, Littles, Wonder

Libba Bray (2010). “A Great and Terrible Beauty”, p.66, Simon and Schuster

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Jericho lay back down on his side, watching her breathe just an arm's length from him. She was not beautiful while she slept; her mouth hung open and she snored very lightly, and this, despite everything that had happened, made him smile.

Libba Bray

Beautiful, Mouths, Arms

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It's knowing I'll never have what she has--a beauty so powerful it brings things to you. I fear I will always have to chase things I want. I'll always have to wonder whether I'm truly wanted or whether I've just been settled for.

Libba Bray

Powerful, Knowing, Want

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But...you could have whatever you wished." "Exactly," he says, nuzzling my neck. "But," I say, "you could turn stones to rubies or ride in a fine gentleman's carriage." Kartik puts his hands on either side of my face. "To each his own magic," he says and kisses me again.

Libba Bray

Kissing, Hands, Gentleman

Libba Bray (2010). “The Sweet Far Thing”, p.404, Simon and Schuster

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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.

Libba Bray

Girl, Dream, Stars

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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.

Libba Bray

World

Libba Bray (2015). “The Gemma Doyle Trilogy”, p.1355, Delacorte Press

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There's no time to be modest. Reason will not work here. Without warning, I kiss Kartik. His lips, pressed firmly against mine, are a surprise. They are warm, light as breath, firm as the give of a peach against my mouth. A scent like scorched cinnamon hangs in the air, but I'm not falling into any vision. It's his smell in me. A smell that makes my stomach drop through my feet. A smell that pushes all thought out of my head and replaces it with an overpowering hunger for more.

Libba Bray

Fall, Kissing, Light

Libba Bray (2010). “A Great and Terrible Beauty”, p.133, Simon and Schuster

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It's only his thumb brushing slowly across the lower edge of my lip, but it's as if time slows and the sweep of that thumb below my mouth takes forever. It is no spell that I know of, but it holds such magic, I can scarcely breath. He pulls his hand away fast, aware of what he's done. But his touch lingers.

Libba Bray

Hands, Forever, Magic

Libba Bray (2010). “A Great and Terrible Beauty”, p.246, Simon and Schuster

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Just once, she'd like to be the exciting one, the girl somebody wanted.

Libba Bray

Girl, Exciting, Wanted

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She's no beauty, mate

Libba Bray

Mates

Libba Bray (2010). “The Sweet Far Thing”, p.301, Simon and Schuster

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Born: March 11, 1964
Occupation: Writer
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