Libba Bray Quotes

Helloooo. Miss Ohio rolled her eyes. I'm from the Buckeye State. We are serious about our tailgating parties. I can turn anything into a grill.

His hand was a claw, sharp enough to open her. She would be like all the others—Ruta Badowski, in her broken dancing shoes. Tommy Duffy, still with the dirt of his last baseball game under his nails....

Hot off the presses, today’s headlines: The love of your life does not approve of my wanton flapper ways, Evie said in a voice of affected mystery. Really, Mabesie. You might want to reconsider—he is...

How I'd love to get away from here and be someone else for a while in a place where no one knows or expects certain things from me.

How can my ankles and arms be obscene?

How do people stay in love, anyway? Is it a choice? Or is it like those plants we studied in biology that mutate into something new and totally different but are still part of the same plant family?

I am a jumble of passions, misgivings, and wants. It seems that I am always in a state of wishing and rarely in a state of contentment.

I am a lot of things, not all of them noble.

I am creating an atmosphere! Oh, Unc, we’ve finally got bodies in this joint! Paying bodies. We could have a good racket going here. I’m not interested in a ‘racket.’ I’m an academic. That’s okay, Unc...

I am staring into the hissing face of a cobra. A surprisingly pink tongue slithers in and out of a cruel mouth while an Indian man whose eyes are the blue of blindless inclines his head towards my mot...

I am starting a collection of only right-hand gloves. It’s ever so bourgeois to have two.

I can be whatever.You can be whatever.We can be whatever.Whatever, together.

I can't help feeling humiliated for Ithal. He stands at the wall and watches us go, and when we reach the turnoff for the school, he's still there with the mangled flower in his hands, far behind us a...

I do not want to pass the time. I want to grab hold of it and leave my mark upon the world.

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.

I don't think you should die until you're ready. Until you've wrung out every last bit of living you can.

I don't understand why he had to fight. He was already in heaven. True. But he wasn't content to serve. He wanted more.

I fear I will always have to chase the things I want. I'll always have to wonder whether I'm truly wanted or whether I've just been settled for.

I feel like I swallowed a Magritte. Like on the inside, I'm made of clouds and floating eyes, green apples, and slowly rising men in bowler hats.

I have never felt more ridiculous. If this is what it means to be a woman I am not the slightest bit interested.