Franny Billingsley Quotes - Page 3

People think me a sort of Florence Nightingale, but I have no heroic qualities. I simply don’t feel very much.

I like rain and mist. I've never understood why people exclaim over bright skies and bushels of glaring sunshine.

Yes, I'm shallow, I don't mind admitting it. Perhaps I should admit that there's no end to the depths of my shallowness.

How can something as fragile as a word build the whole world?

I hated myself, but I also loved myself in a hateful way.

I've confessed to everything and I's liked to be hanged. Now, if you please

You mind your tongue!” “Oh, I do,” I said. “I sharpen it every evening on your name.

But witchy magic doesn’t listen to please and pretty please, and anyway, I didn’t really care. I only pretended to care because not caring makes me a monster.

I don’t mind the disapproving ones so much. It’s the tolerant ones I can’t stand, the ones who smile at Rose, who speak to her ever so slowly and gently. They don’t realize how very intelligent Rose really is. They’re just terrifically pleased with themselves. Look at me! they all but shout. See how broad-minded I am! How wonderfully progressive, how fantastically twentieth century!

Secrets press inside a person. They press the way water presses at a dam. The secrets and the water, they both want to get out.

Poor Petey. I’d like to say I could almost feel a tender spot for poor Petey, but the truth is I’d rather feel at the tender spot on his head and give it a poke.

Did I kill him?” I said. “No, miss,” said Robert. “Pity.

Now that’s true poetic irony. I rush into battle to defend the fair name of Rose Larkin, and what does she do but fetch Robert to stop me.

Despite her cough, Rose was in unusually good spirits. That was irritating. If I’m to trade my life for Rose’s, I’d appreciate her exhibiting a touch of melancholy. Also acceptable would be despair.

Eavesdropping is such a regular-person activity.

He’s harmless, poor thing. That’s what everyone said. It was true, but who cares? Lots of people are harmless, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.

I’m not really the sacrificing type.

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 moon. Let your mouth be a cavern of stars.