Quotes from Libba Bray

We are English, and I expect you to behave as such. No more crying.

I think about dying every day, because I can't stop thinking about living.

I don't know how to accomplish such a look. I find myself with a new fear: that I shall never, ever be this lovely.

Memphis—it's just a bird. Birds fly around, brother. It's what they do. It's not following you, and it's not a sign. Unless you really did give it candy and flowers, in which case you are one strange brother.

sometimes a little crazy is all you need

I don't trust her father than I can run full-steam in a corset.

I know. And I'm Sorry. People will disappoint you, Gemma. The question to ask is whether you can learn to live with the disappointment and move on. I'm offering you a new world.

Perhaps it is only the light. Perhaps it is the power of the realms at work through me. 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 first we know were to look without flinching.

Felicity laughs and takes on the tone of a fashionable lady. Darling, the Bryn-Joneses have just done the most marvelous thing in their parlor with human blood. We simply must have ours done straightaway!

Even Felicity can't keep from sputtering with laughter. I wish I could use my evil eye. Or at least my evil boot right smack against Cecily's backside.

No, instead it is the beastly Cecily Temple who answers me. Dead, dear Cecily, or as I affectionately refer to her in the privacy of my mind, She Who Inflicts Misery Simply by Breathing.

We're all looking glasses, we girls, existing only to reflect their images back to them as they'd like to be seen.

Prepared to fly, even if she has to loose her legs to do it

Thou shalt not steal. I seem to recall that being one of God's I'd rather you didn't lest I have to smite you into ash commandments.

He's got a laugh like a machine gun firing through velvet.

chasing after words like trying to grab the tails of comets.

There is no greater power on this earth than story. People think boundaries and borders build nations. Nonsense--words do.

Did she just say they'd drag the river for your body?" T. S. Woodhouse asked, his pencil poised above his open notebook. Sam sighed like a man deeply in love. "She did, the little bearcat. It's the only defense that poor, helpless girl's got against the animal pull of our love. Uh, you can quote me on that.

We'll have to make the chumps believe it. Moonlight strolls. Staring into each other's eyes. Sharing the same straw in our egg cream. Dreadful pet names." "Not Lamb Chop," Evie protested. "That's hideous." "You got it, Pork Chop." "I will murder you in your sleep." Sam grinned. "Does that mean you're sleeping beside me?" "Not on your life, Lloyd.

It's just a little initiation we have here at Spence - we like to torture each other. Beauty, grace, and charm my foot. It's a school for sadists with good tea-serving skills.

Simplifying people was a way of not having to think too much about them, to make them fit into your own story. People were inconvenient, though. Behind the idea of a person you constructed to suit yourself, the people you loved had their own stories- whole worlds going on inside- and you ignored them at your peril.

Greetings, ax murderer! I was just wondering how you like your eggs?

Are you saying we're not ravish-worthy?

When did you become a cynic?" Sam asked. Evie smiled. "When I found out I was a little girl.