Liz Braswell Quotes

A beautiful, swirled brown and white shell like the one Ursula used to wear, but larger. A whelk, not a nautilus. Vareet picked it up in wonder, turning it over in her hands, admiring its gleam in the moonlight. On a whim she put it to her ear.
Her eyes widened.
In the depths of the shell, she could hear what must have been the echo of distant waves... and also the song of a mermaid. ~ Liz Braswell

Don't judge a book by its cover. ~ Liz Braswell

Whether you're Huguenot or Catholic or Jewish or gypsy or short or have dark skin- or blue skin. Everyone is different. Each person has his or her own soul and is master of his or her own destiny. ~ Liz Braswell

Mermaid queens didn't often have a reason to move quickly. There were no wars to direct, no assassination attempts to evade, no crowds of clamoring admirers to avoid among the merfolk. In fact, slowness and calm were expected of royalty.
So Ariel found herself thoroughly enjoying the exercise as she beat her tail against the water- even as it winded her a little. She missed dashing through shipwrecks with Flounder, fleeing sharks, trying to scoot back home before curfew. She loved the feel of her powerful muscles, the way the current cut around her when she twisted her shoulders to go faster.
She hadn't been this far up in years and gulped as the pressure of the deep faded. She clicked her ears, readying them for the change of environment. Colors faded and transformed around her from the dark, heady slate of the ocean bottom to the soothing azure of the middle depths and finally lightening to the electric, magical periwinkle that heralded the burst into daylight.
She hadn't planned to break through the surface triumphantly. She wouldn't give it that power. Her plan was to take it slow and rise like a whale. Casually, unperturbed, like Ooh, here I am.
But somehow her tail kicked in twice as hard the last few feet, and she exploded into the warm sunlit air like she had been drowning.
She gulped again and tasted the breeze- dry in her mouth; salt and pine and far-distant fires and a thousand alien scents. ~ Liz Braswell

It wasn't enough to catch a glimpse of these lands and ideas through the small window of the pages she turned. She wanted to step through and feel the yellow waters of the Yangtze herself, to hear the celestial music of foreign pipes, to taste the foods described by adventurers who traveled purposefully into the areas on maps labeled 'Here be tygres. ~ Liz Braswell

He first saw her in a ray of sunshine. She was dancing and singing in a forest clearing, her golden hair sparkling as it swirled around her. Her voice was the very essence of a happy, sunny day distilled into song. She was as weightless on her toes as golden motes in a drowsy beam, floating their way up to the ceiling. ~ Liz Braswell

If Eric had just listened to his heart and not someone else's singing, none of this would have happened.
He had fallen in love with the voiceless red-haired girl. He was just too stupid and obstinate to recognize it. He loved everything about her. Her smile, the way she moved, the way she took delight in everything around her. She was impulsive, unmannered, willing to get dirty, a little strange, and extremely hands-on. And beautiful. So different from all the princesses and ladies his parents had introduced him to. ~ Liz Braswell

Agrabah is yours."
"No," Jasmine said, looking out at the sea of guild leaders, and the thieves, and the genie, and all the people of her city.
"Agrabah is ours. ~ Liz Braswell

Books can tell you almost everything that mankind knows. Or imagines. ~ Liz Braswell

You don't get it. They gave me beauty and song, and then I was left in the woods to grow up for sixteen years before being handed over to you. I don't know anything about ruling. I don't even really know what taxes are. I was in the woods in the real world. In the dreamworld, I hid like a mouse and then organized balls and parties. ~ Liz Braswell

But mostly Aladdin thought about Princess Jasmine. If he had never met her, he wouldn't have been thrown into prison by the royal guards, he wouldn't have fallen in with the crazy, oil old man, and he wouldn't be there now, trying to dig himself out of a black, suffocating pit in the middle of the desert.
And still he wouldn't have changed a thing.
He thought about her eyes when she was looking into his. He thought about her eyes when she had seen the beggar children. He had witnessed the single moment she began to comprehend the world he lived in. He replayed the graceful skill with which she handled her tiny silver dagger. He thought about her descending from the sky at the end of her pole vault like a warrior angel.
Thinking about all that made him forget that his fingers were rubbed raw and the inside of his mouth felt like the sand he dug through. ~ Liz Braswell

She sang.
Wordless hymns of the sea: immediate, extemporized passages about waves and sunlight and tides and the constant, beautiful pressure of water on everything. The glory of seaweed slowly swaying, the delicious feeling that foretold a storm in the Dry World and turbulence below.
The music came out of her without pause, driven by years of observing, seeing, listening, enjoying, experiencing the world and unable to express it. The wonder and sadness of being alive. The joy of being a mermaid; the pain of being the only one like herself- the only mermaid who had been mortal, temporarily, and then lost everything. ~ Liz Braswell

Let's not leave arguing."
"I'd rather not leave at all. ~ Liz Braswell

The fairy- again, Wendy assumed- was an angry tinkling ball of light with the prettiest girl imaginable inside. Diminutive but... solid, with a scandalous lack of decorous dress. All she wore was a ragged green shift which barely covered her hips and thighs and breasts and was gathered dangerously over only one shoulder. This was both shocking and delightful; it made the tiny creature resemble statues of ancient nymphs and nereids Wendy had seen. Her hair was even done up in classical style, a goddess-like bun of hair so golden it glowed. Tiny pointed ears curved their way through the few dangling tresses. Her eyes were enormous and not even remotely human: they were far apart and glaring.
The crowning glory was, of course, a pair of delicate iridescent wings sprouting from her back. Their shape was somewhere between butterfly and dragonfly. They were clear as glass and thin as onion skin. ~ Liz Braswell

I had books. Reading them is like travelling to other places. Being other people. Living other lives. ~ Liz Braswell

I guess falling in love with mermaids is pretty dangerous," he finally said.
"Did you?" Ariel asked in a small voice. "Fall for me? At all?"
Eric gave her a measured look, treating the question seriously as she had his. "I did fall for you, just not in the way I expected it would happen. And maybe not in the way you hoped. It wasn't a lightning bolt. As I got to know you, I realized you were the most... energetic, fun, enthusiastic... alive girl I had ever met." He smiled at the memory- and Ariel felt her breath catch. "You know, for a boy who's all about sailing and running around with his dog and exploring, you were just about as perfect a companion as he could ever want. And beautiful, to boot. I would have been very lucky."
He said this wistfully.
Ariel wasn't sure when she was going to start breathing again. ~ Liz Braswell

That was beautiful," she breathed aloud. Of course she had sung duets with the greatest mer singers, male and female, ones who were hundreds of years older than she with voices trained for as long. Somehow what she had just done with Eric was far more powerful and beautiful. All with no audience except for the sea grass, the water, and the wind. ~ Liz Braswell

The genie leaned forward to whisper to them.
"Sorry. You guys seem like a nice couple."
"The sultan is my father," Jasmine snapped.
"Oh. Whoops. My bad. It's not so unusual, you know- old kings, young girls. That whole May-December thing. Not totally my fault."
"At least I won't be married to anyone against my will now. Not even Jafar," Jasmine said grimly.
"Yeah, how about we not give Mr. Revengey-pants here ideas?" the genie suggested archly. "There's a substantial legal and magical difference between forcing to love and forcing to marry."
He had a point. Jasmine kept her mouth shut. ~ Liz Braswell

Then she bit into the pie.
It was all those tastes she remembered from before. Fatty, doughy flour crust. Cheese. Spices and flavors that spoke of foreign Dry World places. And, she supposed, the overwhelming taste of onion. Green, and not unlike certain seaweeds. But stronger.
The baker just watched her as she chewed and enjoyed.
Ariel stopped. Didn't people eat the things they paid for?
She looked around and saw that no one else was gulping down their treats immediately. There went the old Ariel again. Impulsive. ~ Liz Braswell

Belle decided to file the way the Beast said "meat" later to think about more fully. He was a several-hundred-pound beast and obviously didn't eat toast to keep his weight up. ~ Liz Braswell

What do you need me to do to prove it? I'll do anything, my lady! Send me on whatever quest you will! Wouldst thou have me fetch thee the prettiest rose from the farthest reaches of the east? I shall! Bring thee an ancient sparkling treasure from cursed ruins? Absolutely! Slay a dragon? Oh, wait, did that one already…. ~ Liz Braswell

In adventure books there weren't awkward pauses or embarrassing social scenes. In morality plays and farces there were rarely serious discussions of racial tension, mob mentality, pogroms, or plague. In scientific books there were no dinnertime revelations of a terrible matter. Life is a strange mix of all these genres... and it doesn't have nearly as neat and happy ending as you often get in books. ~ Liz Braswell

Her eyes were full of hate. Full. And... at the same time, empty. Soulless. Like those horrible creatures she keeps around her. The dragon was frightening... but Maleficent, she was bone-chilling. ~ Liz Braswell

You had a magic mirror that let you see life outside your tiny world. Your castle. I had books. Reading them is like traveling to other places. Being other people. Living other lives. It made life far less...lonely. ~ Liz Braswell

She was the royal princess. She had to start acting like one. She had to stop talking about being trapped, about being handed over from one man to another. She had to start acting.
She had to start being the hero. ~ Liz Braswell

She should have been afraid. He was a big, violent beast who could easily kill her a dozen different ways. But he had saved her from the wolves. Surely he didn't mean to hurt her? And he spoke like a mostly normal human. Something that could be reasoned with.
She thought about Gaston, the only other beastlike thing she knew who spoke.
He would have been a lot slower on the uptake about everything. Their conversation would have been a lot longer and more frustrating. And he would have tried to marry her at her some point. He was human and utterly impossible to communicate or negotiate with. ~ Liz Braswell

How could Belle, a lonely little bookworm of a country girl, ever come from someone so great that she meted out curses and blessings like candy and then took over an entire castle with her presence? ~ Liz Braswell

The heat of the day had long since retreated into the desert, and the city, which had drowsed through the hot afternoon, was finally coming alive. The streets filled with people drinking tea and gossiping, laughing, and visiting friends. Old men played chatrang on boards set up outside cafes; children stayed up long past their bedtimes playing their own games on the sidewalks. Men and women bought rose-flavored ices and trinkets from nighttime vendors. ~ Liz Braswell

Life is a strange mixture of all of these genres, she mused, and it doesn't have nearly as neat and happy an ending as you often get in books. ~ Liz Braswell

She wore a tan robe and headscarf, the clothes of a local... but didn't feel like a market regular. She moved slowly and gazed at everything with a child's wonder. Her eyes were large and clear, her hair as black as midnight. She had a warm smile on her pretty lips and was obviously murmuring 'hellos' and 'excuse mes' to people who really didn't care or want to talk. She walked with the grace of a cloud in the wind, like her body weighed nothing at all, and held her head high with easy dignity. Easy.
Aladdin felt his heart contract. He had never seen her- or anyone like her- before.
When the girl adjusted her scarf, she revealed an intricate diadem in her hair that had a ridiculously sized emerald in it.
'Ah, a rich girl, out for a day of shopping in the market without her servants. Living dangerously, playing hooky. ~ Liz Braswell

The scary glow of ghoulish red dotted the city like a plague that was taking over an otherwise healthy body. ~ Liz Braswell

It's not bravery if you don't feel fear, right? If you're not afraid, then you're not really forcing yourself to do something brave. ~ Liz Braswell

It wasn't unreasonable to imagine her father, having noticed the mysterious ruins, deciding on a whim to investigate them. 'Like Don Quixote and his golden helmet of Mambrino,' she thought, looking at his yellow hat. 'Off on a silly quest. ~ Liz Braswell

There is always magic. Even if you can't see it. ~ Liz Braswell

And then... she heard voices. Her aunt's voice... 'Your daughter?' Maleficent asked, her voice rising in dramatic surprise. 'Really? What kind of loving mother hands her daughter off to the fairies for sixteen years?'... Maleficent swung around, arching her arms and fingers like an animal, lowering her yellow eyes to their level. ~ Liz Braswell

The magicked dress danced over to the princess. Despite her misgivings, she stood up to receive it- it would have been rude not to. The dress easily smoothed itself over her. Dark green velvet skirts, full and soft, twirled around down to her ankles. Golden buttons fastened themselves up the placket on the bodice and over the elegant, tight sleeves. From her elbows, wisps of dark green mist flowed to the ground for tippets. A collar around her neck drifted out into a cape of the same material.
"Truly, you are the most beautiful princess in the world," a fairy breathed.
Aurora Rose looked at herself in the mirror of dewdrops. She was indeed the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Long neck, golden hair, wide violet eyes, narrow waist, lips perfectly pink and rosy.
She turned, just a little bit, to see how her figure looked from a different angle. The green velvet flowed softly and majestically, making delicious little noises when its folds rippled. As talented as the castle seamstresses were, the princess had never worn anything as elegant or perfect as this. ~ Liz Braswell

When you're young, you think the world will make room for who you are and what you want.... And then you find the world of adults is even more limiting than the world of children. With no room for adventure, much less yer own thoughts. ~ Liz Braswell

A paradisiacal lagoon lay below them. The water was an unbelievable, unreal turquoise, its surface so still that every feature of the bottom could be admired in magnified detail: colorful pebbles, bright red kelp, fish as pretty and colorful as the jungle birds. A waterfall on the far side fell softly from a height of at least twenty feet. A triple rainbow graced its frothy bottom. Large boulders stuck out of the water at seemingly random intervals, black and sun-warmed and extremely inviting, like they had been placed there on purpose by some ancient giant.
And on these were the mermaids.
Wendy gasped at their beauty.
Their tails were all colors of the rainbow, somehow managing not to look tawdry or clownish. Deep royal blue, glittery emerald green, coral red, anemone purple. Slick and wet and as beautifully real as the salmon Wendy's father had once caught on holiday in Scotland. Shining and voluptuously alive.
The mermaids were rather scandalously naked except for a few who wore carefully placed shells and starfish, although their hair did afford some measure of decorum as it trailed down their torsos. Their locks were long and thick and sinuous and mostly the same shades as their tails. Some had very tightly coiled curls, some had braids. Some had decorated their tresses with limpets and bright hibiscus flowers.
Their "human" skins were familiar tones: dark brown to pale white, pink and beige and golden and everything in between. Their eyes were a ~ Liz Braswell

Your generation has no sense of responsibility to a group, a calling higher than your own. You treat random friends like family and family like strangers. You want to dither your life away, pursuing one pleasure after another. That is not a path; that is a waste of life. ~ Liz Braswell

She wished a silly, girlish wish: that she'd had a chance to really fly on the carpet when it was still a carpet. With Aladdin. Zooming through the night air like she was doing now, but with his warm arms to hold on to and the entire world at their feet. They could have gone anywhere they wanted. They would have been completely free. ~ Liz Braswell

Interesting. And does Abu have anything else to say?" she asked, leaning closer.
Cinnamon. Her breath smelled of cinnamon. He could even smell her skin at that distance. Though he wasn't one normally prone to poetry, he could only think of a fresh desert breeze that carried a whisper of cypress and sandalwood.
"He wishes there was something he could do to help..." That at least was honest. He wasn't exactly sure how kissing would help her. He just knew it was going to happen or he was going to die.
"Tell him I just might take him up on that," the girl said, closing her eyes and tilting her head.
Aladdin put his arm around her back and prepared for the best thing that had ever happened to him. ~ Liz Braswell

If she actually had friends, maybe she wouldn't have turned out so nasty and evil. ~ Liz Braswell

Before I ran away, my closest friend was a tiger."
Aladdin laughed softly. "Before I met you, my closest friend was a monkey." He kissed her on the forehead. "We're quite a pair. ~ Liz Braswell

Maybe he just didn't know how to ask nicely. No. Belle shook her head. She had read about this. The victims of kidnapping often wound up sympathizing with the perpetrator. It was a sickness, a very scientifically predictable one. This was the eighteenth century. The age of reason. ~ Liz Braswell

She wished, just once, someone would show an interest in the same things she did ~ Liz Braswell

She watched the children and he watched her face as she tried to process everything she had just learned. She was innocent; that was true. But there was intelligence in those large eyes. She picked up things very, very quickly. It was more than Aladdin could usually say about those who weren't Street Rats. What a waste, for some father to trap such a smart, interesting girl behind a garden gate, like a prized animal... ~ Liz Braswell

No artist can create without an inspiration; no man can work so without a muse. So it is with your prince. Everything I've ever done, every piece you've ever heard, every tune I've ever scribbled in the wee hours as a Mad Prince does, they are all because of one woman, who owns me heart and soul."
This was met with awwws and cries about the power of love.
Eric looked out at the crowd, but his eyes didn't find hers. It didn't matter. Ariel knew he was speaking to her, and she felt her eyes moisten. ~ Liz Braswell

Would her mother have taken her into the rose garden and taught her all of the names, would she have plucked a blossom and placed it in her daughter's hair? Would she have made rose hip tea for her daughter?
Would she have made raspberry leaf tea for Belle when she first began to have her monthly blood? 'So that thirteen-year-old me wouldn't have had to research the possible balms and soothing medicines for it by myself? ~ Liz Braswell

The bigger the person, the more their actions affect the world. If they live, perhaps they will learn that"
"And if everyone dies, no one learns anything ~ Liz Braswell

And I should get back and... I don't know, walk around the beach talking to myself and Jona or something. Maybe sing. Keep up the whole Mad Prince thing a bit longer."
"Oh, I hope you don't ever give it up entirely! I rather like it."
"For you, it will come out of the closet occasionally." He leaned over into the water. Ariel kicked her tail and rose up just long enough for a quick kiss- cold, wet, salty, and slapped by the sea at just the wrong moment.
Heaven. ~ Liz Braswell

He shouldn't have trespassed!"
The voice sounded petulant. Not diabolical.
It gave Belle hope, how human it seemed. In all of her fairy tales and adventure books- the ones with the heroes who were clever rather than strong- this was how you outwitted an opponent. By finding a chink in his armor, a personality flaw to exploit. Then you got him to show off his power by turning into a tiny (and easily stompable) mouse, or slitting open his own stomach.
All she needed was a flaw, and time. ~ Liz Braswell

You've become a queen, a woman with a complicated personality. You have hidden depths and a wisdom and intelligence that all went unnoticed before by an idiot prince whose heart couldn't listen to anything his ears couldn't hear."
Ariel felt a little giddy. "I control storms and the heart of a prince. I like that." If she were in the sea she would have been swooning, thrashing her tail and spinning in circles until she was dizzy. ~ Liz Braswell

Every age has its darkness. ~ Liz Braswell

You know, I've never known much about fashion, living in the country and all," she said innocently. "What sort of hat would a lady like myself wear to an afternoon tea outside, in the garden, with other ladies? Assuming I'm ever invited, of course."
"Oh, that's easy... a lovely straw number, with a wide brim, en grecque curls if you're dining amongst the ruins, or piles of flowers and feathers, and tipped, just so..."
Belle allowed herself a little smile.
"No one has worn hats like that, even in this remote part of the world, for at lest ten years. Not even Madame Bussard has pulled one out of her own wardrobe recently. And she is very thrifty with her accessories. So whatever happened here must have happened at least a decade ago. ~ Liz Braswell

I want porridge!" she said, exasperated. "That's all. I wanted a bunny before and 'it' appeared, and now I want porridge. The way my aunts used to make it on cold mornings. Warm and buttery, with rich toasted acorns in it."
"Acorns? Really? That sounds... um... I mean, it's an interesting gastronomic choice."
She rolled her eyes. "We lived in the middle of a 'forest,' Royal Prince. It was what we had. And a real treat in the middle of winter."
Then she proceeded to ignore him.
She closed her eyes and cupped her hands. She prayed and wished and imagined and begged.
Phillip stayed politely silent- though he did look around, sigh a little, and do all sorts of other things to obviously fret over the passage of time.
She tried to call up the feel of the wooden bowl in her hands: it warmed almost like flesh where the wood was thin and the heat of her fingers and the hot porridge mingled. She summoned the smell, a mix of dairy and things of the earth and the tall green grass and the woods. Sometimes there was even a dollop of honey on top.
She thought so hard she felt like she had to go to the privy.
Her concentration faltered for a moment when she distractedly wondered if that ever happened to Maleficent when she was performing an incantation. But after a few seconds she was back in her dream of porridge.
Time passed...
"GOOD LORD!"
The smell in her head was giving to a real scent in her nose now, with even that faint, almost ' ~ Liz Braswell

She walked to the doorway and looked up at the sky; even with the dust she could see Hormozd, the large red planet, just beginning to sink behind the mountains. On the other side of the sky, the heavens were a shade lighter than they had been just a while ago. The sun was preparing to rise. "I will do what needs to be done."
"Of course, Princess. You would... you would make the warriors of old proud. ~ Liz Braswell

Cooking. Reading. Is there anything you can't do?"
Belle grabbed his big paw and shoved it into the water as well. "Oh yes, I'm a veritable domestic demigoddess," she said archly. "You should see me turn invisible and walk on water. ~ Liz Braswell

Belle, go. If I was your age, I wouldn't have hesitated for a moment. You will always come back here, and I will always be here. And we will have those talks we need. Everyone should have a journey - and everyone should also have a home, too. Go out into the world for adventure, come home for love. ~ Liz Braswell

Don't let life's unfairness, don't let how poor you are decide who you are. You choose who you will be. ~ Liz Braswell

When was the last time those two kids had a full meal or a good, long, clean drink of water? This was the way he had been as a child. Nothing had changed. The sultan still sat in his beautiful golden-domed palace, playing with his toys while people starved on the streets. Nothing would ever change until the sultan- or someone-woke up and saw how his people were suffering. ~ Liz Braswell

She had read too many romantic novels of a dark and dreary bent to really be surprised - The Castle of Otranto was one of her favorite English reads. For all intents and purposes, she was the overwrought, terrified heroine wandering around a cursed castle at night, seeing things in the shadows, jumping at noises. Plus ~ Liz Braswell

A wave formed, swelling around Ariel's body. It lifted her up higher and higher- or maybe she herself was growing: it was hard to tell. She held the trident aloft. Storm clouds raced to her from all directions like a lost school of cichlid babies flicking to their father's mouth for protection. Lightning coursed through the sky and danced between the trident's tines.
Ariel sang a song of rage.
Notes rose and fell discordantly, her voice screeching at times like a banshee from the far north.
She sang, and the wind sang with her. It whipped her hair out of its braids and pulled tresses into tentacles that billowed around her head. She sang of the unfairness of Eric's fate and her own, of her father's torture as a polyp, even of Scuttle's mortal life, slowly but visibly slipping away.
Mostly she sang about Ursula.
She sang about everyone whose lives had been touched and destroyed by evil like coral being killed and bleached, like dead spots in the ocean from algae blooms, like scale rot. She sang about what she would do to anyone who threatened those she loved and protected.
And then, with her final note, she made a quick thrust as if to throw the trident toward the boats in the bay, pulling it back at the last moment.
A clap louder than thunder echoed across the ocean. A wave even larger than the one she rode roared up from the depths of the open sea. It smashed through and around her, leaving her hair and body white with foam. She grinned fie ~ Liz Braswell

Belle, girl, you can't find real adventures that way. You have to go out into the world... you have to meet people..."
"You don't," she protested.
"I did when I was younger," he said gently. "That's how I met your mother. True love doesn't just fall into your lap. You have to go out and find your other half."
"But your... my... she fell out of your lap. She just kept going. ~ Liz Braswell

Belle wanted more. She wanted to see more. She wanted to travel to the lands she had read about, where people ate with delicate sticks, not forks.
At the very least, she wanted to be carried there in her imagination. ~ Liz Braswell

Magic is only as great as the mind controlling it ~ Liz Braswell

The nautilus shell was exquisite, brown and white and perfectly striped. The math that lay like a dazzling creation spell over all who lived in the sea showed clearly in the spiral, each cell as great as the sum of the two previous sections. Everything in the ocean was a thing of beauty and numbers, even in death.
Mermaids could live for a long time, but their bodies became foam that dissipated into nothing when they died.
The poor little mollusk who lived in this shell had a very short life, but his shell could last for centuries.
Ariel sighed and brushed her fingers over it, feeling strangely melancholy despite the triumph she literally held in her hands. Years of being mute could be swept away in a second. Years of frustration, years of silent crying, years of anger.
And then what?
If she destroyed it, what would it change? ~ Liz Braswell

The woods were definitely changing. Aurora and Phillip could no longer see the sky at all because of the ancient tall trees that stretched far overhead. Pines and other shaggy-barked species shot a hundred feet straight up on massive trunks, some of which were as thick around as a small house. The canopies that spread out at their tops blocked out most of the sun; only a rare dappled shaft made it through. But it didn't feel claustrophobic. The absence of light kept the underbrush low: moss on ancient fallen logs, puddles of shade flowers, mushrooms and tiny lilies. It was airy and endless like the largest cathedral ever imagined. ~ Liz Braswell

Prince,' he could, at this point, take or leave.
The rest of his life with Jasmine, however... that was worth everything. ~ Liz Braswell

Beyond it were a dozen skeletons still shackled to the wall, left there even after they'd decomposed like a forgotten detail in a fairy tale. ~ Liz Braswell

I felt sorry for her, baby, guilty and responsible. That's all it was. Once she started talking about you, I could have thrown her off the deck with no remorse. I know there are no words that can take away what you saw, just please say you understand. Liz is nothing to me, Evan, but you...you're everything. ~ Lilly Black

It's just ... how do I put this? Maybe it's just hard for me to imagine turning down something that's so much harder for someone like me to find. ~ Liz Czukas

As a manager you know when someone is below his or her usual performance. What is harder to know is whether people are giving everything they have to give. Asking whether people are giving their best gives them the opportunity to push themselves beyond their previous limits. ~ Liz Wiseman

Only in the English countryside could violent death remain something that is 'cosy.' ~ Liz Williams

I'll spend the rest of my life falling as far and deep and hard as my heart will let me go in love with this perfect, crazy girl who taught me to let go and hold on. I know in that minute I'll be Evan's fall guy until the day I die, and my future, for the first time in my life, is an always I can't wait to fall into. ~ Liz Reinhardt

When there is some fear about accounting and growth and the economy, food stocks are a decent place to be, ... This company has been through a bit of a restructuring the last couple of years. Management is doing a great job. The company is improving and people are buying chocolate. So, what a great week to buy it. ~ Liz Miller

Now the uncle spoke up. 'This cannot be,' he said. 'The human being is designed for many things. Loneliness is not one of them.' ... Mrs. Ramani leaned into me, and said, as a statement of fact. 'We are not meant to go through this life alone. ~ Liz Tuccillo

...shame can do things to people's minds. It warps them from the truth, allowing them only to see what they want to see. ~ Liz Durano

Benevolent sexism is sort of like the Macarena: you don't remember when you learned it, but for some reason you're really good at it. ~ Liz Plank

We talk for a very long time and I ask her if it gets easier and she says not really, just different. A different duller kind of hurt, the kind that doesn't surprise you anymore.
I ask what her parent were like when it happened and she says they have never been the same. ~ Liz Moore

You will make it Liz, and no matter what happens down there, remember that I love you with everything I am, your life is my life, your pain is my pain, but my love is also your strength, and my faith your courage. ~ Leia Kiuski

I had a calling inside of me. I had a sense that when I was going through experiences like living on the streets, losing my parents to AIDS, just having my whole world turned upside-down, there was this feeling inside of me like I was meant for something greater. ~ Liz Murray

My mother used to sit at the foot of my bed, and she would share her dreams with me. ~ Liz Murray

Holding your team accountable to do the jobs they're being paid to do is not being mean; it's being a manager, and that's your job. ~ Liz Weber

Making these choices [to attend school instead of skipping], as it turned out, wasn't about willpower. I always admired people who "willed" themselves to do something, because I have never felt I was one of them. If sheer will were enough by itself, it would have been enough a long time ago, back on University Avenue, I figured. It wasn't, not for me anyway. Instead, I needed something to motivate me. I needed a few things that I could think about in my moments of weakness that would cause me to throw off the blanket and walk through the front door. More than will, I needed something to inspire me.

One thing that helped was a picture I kept in mind, this image that I used over and over whenever I was faced with these daily choices. I pictured a runner running on a racetrack. The image was set in the summertime and the racetrack was a reddish orange, divided in white racing stripes to flag the runners' columns. Only, the runner in my mental image did not run alongside others; she ran solo, with no one watching her. And she did not run a free and clear track, she ran one that required her to jump numerous hurdles, which made her break into a heavy sweat under the sun. I used this image every time I thought of things that frustrated me: the heavy books, my crazy sleep schedule, the question of where I would sleep and what I would eat. To overcome these issues I pictured my runner bolting down the track, jumping hurdles toward the finish line.

Hunger, hurdle ~ Liz Murray

Liz was afraid of silence, and she kept her fears clenched so tightly in her fists that they grew and grew and swallowed her whole. ~ Amy Zhang

In general, I'm fascinated by women who exist outside of society's mores and values. ~ Liz Goldwyn

When you go back to your environment and you deal with employees ... do you inspire people or do you make them feel fear? Do you make them feel confident or incompetent? I think that distinction really marks the leader. ~ Liz Murray

Not exactly what I wanted, but you know what they say about getting what you want."
"That you should want what you have instead?" I guessed.
"No! That's ridiculous advice. Jesus, who told you that? Never mind, don't even answer that. Just forget you ever heard it. They, and by 'they' I am referring to those who know what the hell they're talking about, say that you can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes ... " He held out his hand for me to finish.
"You just might get what you need?"
He shucked me under the chin and gave me his best cocky smile. "There's hope for you yet."
He walked away from me with a determined swagger and didn't look back. ~ Liz Reinhardt

For me, spiritual practice is a lot closer to art than science. ~ Liz Williams

If your last words are somehow meant to encapsulate your entire existence, Liz finds um strangely appropriate. Um means nothing. Um is what you say while you're thinking of what you'll really say. Um suggests someone interrupted before they'd begun. Um is a fifteen-year-old girl who gets hit by a taxicab in front of a mall on the way to help pick out a prom dress for a prom she isn't even going to, for God's sake. ~ Gabrielle Zevin

Now, more than ever, we need to prepare our young women to take over in a world full of trials, uncertainty, obstacles, and competition. ~ Liz Faublas

I think you don't really love me. I think you just love how much I love you. ~ Liz Kay

On Earth, Liz was constantly occupied with studying and finding a college and a career and all those other things that the adults in her life deemed terribly important. Since she had died, everything she was doing on Earth had seemed entirely meaningless. From Liz's point of view, the question of what her life would be was now definitively answered. The story of her life is short and pointless: There once was a girl who got hit by a car and died. The end. ~ Gabrielle Zevin

You're the fall guy, Winch. You're the guy they come to when no one else will stand up and take their medicine. And they come to you because you never make them stand up and take it. ~ Liz Reinhardt

Yeah, I like to be the maker of the art. And I like and want the money. But I don't really dig being famous. ~ Liz Phair

I just feel like the world is our oyster. I grew up knowing that my mother is a journalist and was one of the first bureau chiefs I think ever at the New York Times. Hearing these stories of how hard it was for her, and yet knowing how easy it is for me right now is just remarkable. ~ Liz W. Garcia

A true best friend loves you even when it seems like you've gone off the deep end. ~ Liz Fenton

Around this time, Pelletier and Espinoza, worried about the current state of their mutual lover, had two long conversations on the phone. The first conversation began awkwardly, although Espinoza had been expecting Pelletier's call, as if both men found it difficult to say what sooner or later they would have to say. The first twenty minutes were tragic in tone, with the word 'fate' used ten times and the word 'friendship' twenty-four times. Liz Norton's name was spoken fifty times, nine of them in vain. The word 'Paris' was said seven times, 'Madrid', eight. The word 'love' was spoken twice, once by each man. The word 'horror' was spoken six times and the word 'happiness' once (by Espinoza). The word 'solution' was said twelve times. The word 'solipsism' once (Pelletier). The word 'euphemism' ten times. The word 'category', in the singular and plural, nine times. The word 'structuralism' once (Pelletier). The term 'American literature' three times. The word 'dinner' or 'eating' or 'breakfast' or 'sandwich' nineteen times. The word 'eyes' or 'hands' or 'hair' fourteen times. Then the conversation proceeded more smoothly. Pelletier told Espinoza a joke in German and Espinoza laughed. In fact, they both laughed, wrapped up in the waves of whatever it was that linked their voices and ears across the dark fields and the windows and the snow of the Pyrenees and the rivers and lonely roads and the separate and interminable suburbs surrounding Paris and Madrid. ~ Roberto Bolano

Like, I kind of developed my musical style in a vacuum. Even though I listen to a lot of stuff, the way I wrote was in my bedroom, really privately. It's still the way I write, actually. ~ Liz Phair

Hard times are purposeful, meant to refine and redirect us. They're not arbitrary or random, and they're definitely not cruel. ~ Liz Curtis Higgs