People aren't always what you want them to be— Libba Bray
The most contentment Libba Bray quotes that will be huge advantage for your personal development
You’ve been assigned an identity since birth.
Then you spend the rest of your life walking around in it to see if it really fits. You try on all these different selves and abandon just as many. But really it’s about dismantling all that false armor, getting down to what’s real. -Going Bovine
We all walk in a land of dreams. For what are we but atoms and hope, a handful of stardust and sinew? We are weary travelers trying to find our way home on a road that never ends. Am I a part of your dream? or are you but a part of mine?
Free the snow globes!
And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time.
Beneath the skin, there is fear. Pain. Remorse. Yearning. Desire. A fierce longing for power. All of this. We are joined. It is as if we live in the center of a great storm. Around us the world of the realms revolves like a giant kaleidoscope, images refracted again and again. So many worlds! So much to know.
It's always darkest before the ultimate sparkle.
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 a bit of a killjoy.
J.T Woodland, known as “the cute one” in The Corporation’s seventh-grade boy band, Boyz Will B Boyz. Due to the success of their triple-platinum hit, “Let Me Shave Your Legs Tonight, Girl,” Boyz Will B Boyz ruled the charts for a solid eleven months before hitting puberty and losing ground to Hot Vampire Boyz.
It is a giggle full of high spirits and merry mischief, proof that we never lose our girlish selves, no matter what sort of women we become.
There's a lot about discovering who you are and how difficult that is. And it never stops.
Do not be tempted by English roses. Their beauty fades, but their thorns are forever.
Jeez, someone needs to push the reset button on this planet.
I thought I was having an existential crisis, but it was nothing.
Please don't tailgate: body in trunk.
We've barley stepped into the bright glow of the realms when everything goes dark.
Peace is not happenstance. It is a living fire that must be fed constantly. It must be tended to with vigilance, else it dies out.
I should never be left alone with my mind for too long.
Writers are also sort of like vultures, but with fewer ethics.
What if evil doesn't really exist? What if evil is something dreamed up by man, and there is nothing to struggle against except out own limitations? The constant battle between our will, our desires, and our choices?
I know because I read...Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
Can we really conquer chaos so easily? If that were so, I should be able to prune the pandemonium of my own soul into something neat and tidy rather than this maze of wants and needs and misgivings that has me forever feeling as if I cannot fit into the landscape of things.
Reality is a state of mind. To the banker, the money in his ledger book is all very real, though he doesn't actually see it or touch it. But to the Brahma, it simply doesn't exist the way the air and the earth, pain and loss do. To him, the banker's reality is folly. To the banker, the Brahma's ideas are as inconsequential as dust.
Libraries are the torch of the world, illuminating the path when it feels too dark to see. We mustn't allow that torch to be extinguished.
I'm like everyone else in this stupid, bloody, amazing world.
I'm flawed. Impossibly so. But hopeful. I'm still me.
When I dream, I dream of him. For several nights now he’s come to me, waving from a distant shore as if he’s been waiting patiently for me to arrive. He doesn’t utter a word, but his smile says everything: I’ve missed you.
Sometimes we seek that which we are not yet ready to find.
Really, being a librarian is a much more dangerous job than you realize.
A guy's gotta live, you know, gotta make his way and find his meaning in life and love, and to do that he needs coffee, he needs coffee and coffee and coffee.
We're all strangers connected by what we reveal, what we share, what we take away--our stories. I guess that's what I love about books--they are thin strands of humanity that tether us to one another for a small bit of time, that make us feel less alone or even more comfortable with our aloneness, if need be.
What --- you don't believe in true love?" Petra asked.
"The kind that can then be parlayed into awesome merchandising opportunities?" - "Beauty Queens
In each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice... No one can live in the light all the time.
There is no greater power on this earth than story.
I will tell you the story of how we found ourselves in a realm where dreams are formed, destiny is chosen, and magic is as real as a handprint in the snow.
Because you don't notice the light without a bit of shadow.
Everything has both dark and light. You have to play with it till you get it exactly right.
May I suggest that you all read? And often.
Believe me, it's nice to have something to talk about other than the weather and the Queen's health. Your mind is not a cage. It's a garden. And it requires cultivating.
Any book that can help you survive the slings and arrows of adolescence is a book to love for life; 'The Catcher in the Rye' did just that, and I still do love it.
There is a dualism inherent in democracy--opposing forces pushing against each other, always. Culture clashes. Different belief systems. All coming together to create this country. But this balance takes a great deal of energy.
When she can't bring me to heal with scolding, she bends me to shape with guilt.
I’m from the health department. You’ve heard of Typhoid Mary? This fella’s got enough typhoid to start his own colony.
There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India.
It says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.
Judge not, lest ye be judged.
The night's chilly breath tickles up my neck and finds my ear, whispering secrets only the wind knows.
What happened to the winner" Adina asked.
"She tripped." "And the first runner-up?" Miss Michigan cracked her knuckles. "She tripped, too.
Did God ever cry over his lost angel, I wonder?
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.
These are hard times. The world hurts. We live in fear and forget to walk with hope. But hope has not forgotten you. So ask it to dinner. It's probably hungry and would appreciate the invitation.
I hear they feed you in Sing Sing,” Evie muttered.
“Three squares a day.” “Evangeline,” Will said with a sigh. “Charity begins at home.” “So does mental illness.
But aren't many gardens beautiful because they are imperfect?.
..aren't the strange, new flowers that arise by mistake or misadventure as pleasing as the well-tended and planned?
Please do not strain yourself, Miss Doyle.
I won't have my girls going cross-eyed in the name of art.
I've never done acid, finding it hard to go willingly to a place that could be frightening, hellish, and totally beyond my control. A place much like high school.