Libba Bray Quotes

So, ah, who’s the lucky girl? Sam asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. When Jericho ignored him, Sam grabbed one of Jericho’s Civil War soldier figurines and held it up to his mouth. Oh, Jericho...

Sosie wasn't sure how to answer. Since she could remember, she'd had crushes on both girls and guys. They were person-specific infatuations - Brian Levithan's wicked sense of humour was every bit as s...

Spare a copper for our cause? the girl with the coin cup asks, her voice weary. I can spare more than that, I say. I reach into my purse and giver her what real coins I have, and then I press my hand...

Sí, era demasiado. Por dentro se sentía como si fuera demasiado continuamente.

The ground's soft with pine needles and the occasional crunch of a cone. The air smells like it's just been born.

The line between faith and fanaticism is a constantly shifting one, Dr. Poblocki said. When does belief become justification? When does right become rationale and crusade become crime?

The only thing I don't divulge is the truth about Mother killing little Carolina. I don't know why. Perhaps I sense he's not ready to know that just yet. Maybe he never will. People can live with only...

The wind whistles down into the skyscraper-bound canyons, across the broad expanses of the avenues and the narrow confines of the streets, where lives unfolded in secret, day in, day out: Sometimes a...

There are no safe choices. Only other choices.

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

There is no greater power on this earth than story.

There is no meaning but what we assign. We create our own reality. I can live with that.

There is no progress without cost.

There’s a moment of profound sadness that can be dispelled only by summoning my anger.

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.

Theta sat next to Memphis and watched Mr. and Mrs. Chan laughing about some private joke. They were a mixed couple, and they were happy. No one seemed to be bothering them. But they were also here in...

Theta’s hand slid just slightly toward Memphis’s. He inched his forward, too, just grazing the tips of her fingers with his.

They wish, too, that they could warn them about the gray man in the stovepipe hat, about the King of Crows. For not all ghosts remember, and the citizens have need of warning.

Things aren't good or bad in and of themselves. It's what we do with them that makes them so.

Think: who has vans, huh? Soccer moms and serial killers.