Quotes from Franny Billingsley

I'm not really the sacrificing type.

Poor Petey. I'd like to say I could almost feel a tender spot for poor Petey, but the truth is I'd rather feel at the tender spot on his head and give it a poke.

We laughed a lot and I grew warmer still, lovely and warm. I do realize that some of that warmth was due to the wine, but there was much more to it than that. There are two distinct aspects to Communion wine: one aspect is the wine itself, the other is the idea of communion. Wine is certainly warming, but communion is a great deal more so.

It's one thing if a person learns you're a witch. It's quite another if he learns you're a murderer. I almost forget I'm a witch now that I know I'm a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.

A girl can have the face of an angel but have a horrid sort of heart.

I don't mind the disapproving ones so much. It's the tolerant ones I can't stand, the ones who smile at Rose, who speak to her ever so slowly and gently. They don't realize how very intelligent Rose really is. They're just terrifically pleased with themselves. Look at me! they all but shout. See how broad-minded I am! How wonderfully progressive, how fantastically twentieth century!

Eavesdropping is such a regular-person activity.

I'd rather be in Hell with my soul and wits, than in the outside world without them.

My own mask stayed just where it ought. I've had lots of practice.

Poor Cecil, consumed by a grande passion, only to be told to compress his love manifesto into a haiku. "I won't try to excuse my behavior," he said. "It was despicable." Or a limerick. There once was a rotter named Cecil, Whose Love Interest wished he could be still. Oh well. Unlike some, at least, I've never pretended to be a poet.

I've confessed to everything and I'd liked to be hanged. Now, if you please.

if you don't argue, you can't give in...

Should I ever again sink into illness, I'm sure I'll remember Eldric. I'll remember he cared for me. I'll remember that someone had at least taken the time to touch my face.

That's what stories do. They connect the random dots of life into a picture. But it's all an illusion. Just try to connect the dots of life. You'll end up with a lunatic scribble.

People think me a sort of Florence Nightingale, but I have no heroic qualities. I simply don't feel very much.

Soon the Boggy Mun would open up shop. I wore no cloak and had no pockets. I carried my knife and salt in a basket. Little Red Riding Hood, skipping off into the woods. And whom will she meet? Why, her own self, of course: the wolf.

I hope you don't mind my joining you," said Leanne. I minded. After all, she'd tried to kill me. A girl in a novel would say it was hard to believe, but it wasn't.

Our English monarchs are so unimaginative," said Eldric. "They execute people in such tediously conventional ways.

Pressure is uncomfortable, but so are the gallows. Keep your secrets, wolfgirl. Dance your fists with Eldric's, snatch lightning from the gods. Howl at the moon, at the blood-red moon. Let your mouth be a cavern of stars.

I can." He rent his dark tresses, Resulting in messes, Thus prompting his L.I. to flee till, she reached the end of the world and jumped off. Perhaps I have untapped potential.

I am entirely well," said Eldric, "which has Dr. Rannigan exploring first one theory, then another, trying to understand. But not being a man of science, I don't care about understanding. I simply want to go outside and break a few windows.

Perhaps you should put your head down." I knew this was the thing to do, although I've never fainted and I don't intend to.

I may be wicked, but I'm not bad.

Our parents teach us the very first things we learn. They teach us about hearts.