Most men don't seem to get that telling a pissed-off woman to calm down is like throwing gunpowder on a fire.” ~ Liberty Jones
I thought about the future, the oceans and continents he would cross, far away from everyone who knew and loved him. Far outside the sphere of his mothers prayers. Among the women of the future, there was one who would know his secrets and bear his children, and witness the changes the years worked on him. And it wouldnt be me. -Liberty Jones
How old are you? Twelve?" "Fourteen & three quarters." His eyes sparkled. "You're kind of little for fourteen and three quarters." "Am not," I replied indignantly. "I'm a sophomore this year. How old are you?" "Seventeen and two fifths." Hardy Cateses & Liberty Jones.
Asking an eight-year-old girl if something is a little over-the-top is like asking a Texan if there are too many jalapenos in the salsa. The answer is always no." -Liberty Jones
Where do you wanna belong?" I half whispered. His expression changed with quicksilver speed, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Anywhere they don't want me." -Hardy Cateses & Liberty Jones
Of all the things he wants," Liberty said, "money's the easiest to get.
What are you going to call the place?" "I haven't decided yet. Carrington wants to call it Clippety-Do-Da or Hairway to Heaven . . . but I told her we have to be a little bit classier." "Julius Scissors," I suggested. "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow," Jack joined in. Liberty covered her ears. "I'll go out of business in the first week.
Hardy was every loose-limbed cowboy in warn denim, every pair of blue eyes, every battered pickup, every hot cloudless day." -Liberty
Pity goes hand in hand with contempt. Don't ever forget that, Liberty. You can't take handouts or help from anyone, because that gives people the right to look down on you.
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