A Quote by Libba Bray

You can’t blame a fella for kissing the prettiest girl in New York, can you, sister?” Sam’s grin was anything but apologetic. Evie brought up her knee quickly and decisively, and he dropped to the floor like a grain sack. “You can’t blame a girl for her quick reflexes now, can you, pal?
I was a Versace perfume girl at Saks Fifth Avenue, and Rihanna actually came up to the counter and asked for something. And she wouldn't even take her sunglasses off! She was so mean to me. Not mean, but, like, guarded. I don't blame her, though.
She said to the Daisy girl with her big brown eyes: 'I will not have it plain. No. Fancy. It must be fancy!' She meant her future. A moon-daisy dropped to the floor, down from her hair, like a faintly derisive sign from heaven.
You have a steady fella?” Sam asked after a bit. “No fella can hold me for long.” Sam gave her a sideways glance. “That a challenge?” “No. A statement of fact.
He had handed his daughter to Caroline Gill and that act had led him here, years later, to this girl in motion of her own, this girl who had decided yes, a brief moment of release in the back of a car, in the room of a silent house, this girl who had stood up later, adjusting her clothes, with now knowledge of how that moment was already shaping her life.
I was in New Zealand and met this girl. Her sister dared me to bungee jump, so I did! It was a spur-of-the-moment decision - I wanted to impress the girl, and it worked! We were in a relationship after that.
I watched a little girl cover her face up and leave her hands in front of her mouth. I saw that girl after surgery, and she was smiling... that's a great source of satisfaction.
I try to do something the audience might not have seen before. Like if I'm gonna kiss a girl I wanna kiss her like a girl has never been kissed. Like maybe I would kick her legs out from under her and catch her right before she hits the ground and then kiss her.
I've always been down to try out new things, but I was more of a jeans girl at age 17. I didn't want to show my legs. Now, I'm a dress-shirt girl, a shorts girl, a jeans girl, an overalls girl - I'll wear anything!
I think we spend a lot of time denying our mothers. We understand other women earlier than we understand our mothers because we're trying so hard to say, "I'm not going to be like my mother" that we blame her for her condition. If we didn't blame her for her condition, we would have to admit that it could happen to us, too. I spent a long time doing that, thinking that my mother's problems were uniquely her fault.
Kate Middleton has a nice silhouette and she is the right girl for that boy. I like that kind of woman, I like romantic beauties. On the other hand, her sister struggles. I don't like the sister's face. She should only show her back.
There are no words for how much I will miss her, but I try to kiss her so that she'll know. I try to kiss her to tell her the whole story of my love, the way I dreamed of her when she was dead, the way that every other girl seemed like a mirror that showed me her face. The way my skin ached for her. The way that kissing her made me feel like I was drowning and like I was being saved all at the same time. I hope she can taste all that, bittersweet, on my tongue.
Mithros's spear, Kel!" he exclaimed. "When did you turn into a real girl?" "You said she was a girl already," muttered one of his cousins... "But not a girl-girl, with a chest and all!" protested Owen. ..."I've been a girl for a while, Owen," Kel informed him. "I never realized," her too outspoken friend replied. "It's not like you've got melons or anything, they're just noticeable.
I have four boys and one girl. My daughter is my only little girl and I just love her to death. I can't even fix my mouth to tell her 'no' for anything.
I believe the first story I ever wrote was about a young girl who was terribly mistreated by her very cruel parents, and one day the girl fled to the woods to live amongst a pack of wolves. Hey, I was eleven, loved wolves, and had been grounded for what I felt was a minor infraction. Can you blame me?
I'm not romantic at all, ha ha, I need teaching. The closest I ever came was taking a girl out on her birthday and getting her picked up and dropped off at a hotel. The room was all done up, like with flowers and stuff. But that was a struggle for me!
Normal. She wasn't normal. A girl Graced with killing, a royal thug? A girl who didn't want the husbands Randa pushed on her, perfectly handsome and thoughtful men, a girl who panicked at the thought of a baby at her breast, or clinging to her ankles.
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