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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.

Libba Bray (born Martha Elizabeth Bray, 11 March 1964) is an American writer of young adult novels.

QuotesEdit

 
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.
 
Just like that, something in the cosmos shifts. A butterfly flaps its wings in South America. Snow falls in Chicago. You give an idiot a stupid magic screw and it turns out to be a necessary part after all.
 
Here is our favorite equation: Us plus Them equals All of Us. It is very simple math. Try it sometime.

Twenty-One Things You Don't Know About MeEdit

Autobiographical profile at Amazon
  • My dad was a Presbyterian minister. Yes, I am one of those dreaded P.K.s — Preacher's Kids. Be afraid. Be very afraid…
  • My favorite word is "redemption." I like both its meaning and the sound. My least favorite word is "maybe." "Maybe" is almost always a "no" drawn out in cruel fashion.
  • I have an artificial left eye. I lost my real eye in a car accident when I was eighteen. In fact, I had to have my entire face rebuilt because I smashed it up pretty good. It took six years and thirteen surgeries. However, I did have the pleasure of freezing a plastic eyeball in an ice cube, putting it in a friend's drink, ("Eyeball in your highball?") and watching him freak completely. Okay, so maybe that's not going down on my good karma record. But it sure was fun.
  • I'm one of those people who has to write. If I don't write, I feel itchy and depressed and cranky. So everybody's glad when I write and stop complaining already.

Going Bovine (2009)Edit

 
Balder holds up a completely blank rune. Wyrd. The beginning and the end. Fate.
I don't know what that means, but it's not doing anything to uncreep me.
  • People always think they know other people, but they don’t. Not really. I mean, maybe they know things about them, like they won’t eat doughnuts or they like action movies or whatever. But they don’t know what their friends do in their rooms alone at night or what happened to them when they were kids or if they feel fucked up and sad for no reason at all.
    • p. 178
  • 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.
    • p. 253
  • “Oh, hello," Dr. M says, shaking Balder's hand. "Wonderful costume. I'm a bit of a role player myself on the weekends. Tell me, where did you get the helmet?"
    "It was forged in the North, blessed by the hands of Odin, given to me by my mother, Frigg," Balder answers.
    "Lovely. I got mine on the Internet.”
    • p. 318
  • Balder holds up a completely blank rune. Wyrd. The beginning and the end. Fate.
    I don't know what that means, but it's not doing anything to uncreep me.
    • p. 338
  • The dark does not weep for itself because there is no light. Rather, it accepts that it is the dark. It is said that even the gods must die." He winks. "But not without one hell of a fight.”
    • p. 365
  • Marisol does a silly dance with Balder and the screw, one in each hand, so that nobody gets the idea that she takes tins — or anything else, for that matter — seriously. And just like that, something in the cosmos shifts. A butterfly flaps its wings in South America. Snow falls in Chicago. You give an idiot a stupid magic screw and it turns out to be a necessary part after all.
    • p. 389
  • In our travels, we have come across many equations — math for understanding the universe, for making music, for mapping stars, and also for tipping, which is important. Here is our favorite equation: Us plus Them equals All of Us. It is very simple math. Try it sometime. You probably won’t even need a pencil.
    • p. 428
  • 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.
    • p. 428

Quotes about BrayEdit

External linksEdit