“Poor Cecil, consumed by a grande passion, only to be told to compress his love manifesto into a haiku. “I won’t try… — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
“More important for Chime were the ballads that my father sang me. I think that all of those ballads, the structure of… — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
A poem doesn’t come out and tell you what it has to say. It circles back on itself, eating its own tail… — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
I hope you don’t mind my joining you,” said Leanne. I minded. After all, she’d tried to kill me. A girl in a novel… — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
I've confessed to everything and I's liked to be hanged. Now, if you please — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
Meaning. If you're going to die, you want to find meaning in life. You want to connect the dots. — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
You could at least complain,” I say. “I adore complaining. It calms the nerves. — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
Thoughts are strange creatures. They lead you from one thing to another. Sometimes you don’t know how you got from one to the next. — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
Guess what it is that turns plants to coal. Pressure. Guess what it is that turns limestone to marble. Pressure. Guess what it is that turns Briony's heart to stone. Pressure. Pressure is uncomfortable, but so are the gallows. Keep your secrets, wolfgirl. Dance your fists with Eldric's, snatch lightning from the gods. Howl at the moon, at the blood-red… — Franny Billingsley Copy Share
“I was going to ask him, yes I was. “You remember Blackberry Night?” The torches were alive with yellow butterfly-flames. “I can’t forget it.” His eyes were whiter than white. “You remember the thing we might have done that night, but it turned out to be a thing we didn’t do?” It was late and my tongue had gone bleary.… — Franny Billingsley Copy Share
You don’t mind when he stares at you.” Cecil jerked his head toward Eldric. "He doesn’t stare,” I said. “He looks. — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
“I love you. I believe it. I believe I am lovable. How can something as fragile as a word build a whole world?” — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
People think me a sort of Florence Nightingale, but I have no heroic qualities. I simply don’t feel very much. — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
“Smash the table, why don’t you? Kick things about. It’s ever so nice to see you embrace the true spirit of the Fraternitus.” — Franny Billingsley Copy Share Image
