Marilyn Brant Quotes

The threads of these thoughts trailed after her throughout the rest of the day, like loose ends on a fabric, needing to either be tied into a knot or snipped away.

So, girl, you learn to deal with what gets handed down t'you. To grow up means you be honest with y'self. Face what you done, what choices you made, what you couldn't do. Be grateful for what you be given. Life don't come smooth, but you make a path, even with all them rocks in your way, that you can walk on and be proud of.

I realized what tremendous teamwork it took to pull this off. I originally had nine and a half pages. This is the condensed version. So, anyone I may have inadvertently omitted in this draft, please email me and I'll send you the longer edition. (Trust me. Your name is definitely on that one. As is the name of every resident in the entire state of Wisconsin.)

The pull of music, literature or painting on us is like the plucking of a string. Literally, in the case of music. Sometimes gently, sometimes vigorously, but it always causes a reaction. Our innate response brings us in synchronized harmony with the elements in nature - from the smallest atomic particle to the largest heavenly body. We're connected through these vibrations to nature and to each other. So, really, everything's connected

But here I am at this moment, a thirty-four-year-old geek, and against my will and against my reason (although, okay, not against my character), I still want that fucking Cinderella story for myself.
More than an amazing, no-one-else-on-the-planet-knows-this secret.
More than anything else.
I want that happily-ever-after ending I imagined, as a teen, I'd get someday. That daydream I held on to as my prize for surviving those sucky years of adolescence.
Dammit, I deserve that ending.
It's just that, if I'm truly honest with myself, I can no longer tell if it's Sam, specifically, I want or if it's the nearly two-decade-old fantasy featuring him as the heroic lead.
So, at the last second, I cop out.

Since the road to publication is usually so arduous, meandering and fraught with unexpected twists, writers have ample time to compose (in their heads or on fettuccini-stained restaurant napkins) dissertation-length monologues befitting that of a Shakespearean lead character, during which they describe - in complex, paragraph-long sentences - how exceedingly indebted they are to everyone they've ever met, read a book by or chatted about "Motivation" with online (in their entire lives) for the help given in the writing, acquisition, printing and distribution of their debut novels.

She feared so many things. Too many to want to count them. Some she would not even want to try to justify.
But his touch?
Surprisingly, this was not one of them . . .

It's not ... not as easy to break away from home as I thought it'd be.