Libba Bray - Evie Quotes

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How do you invent a religion? Evie asked. Will looked over the top of his spectacles. You say, 'God told me the following,' and then wait for people to sign up.

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Dead bodies are such trouble, Evie said with a little sigh, and Mabel had to turn her head away so as not to laugh.

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I hear they feed you in Sing Sing, Evie muttered. Three squares a day. Evangeline, Will said with a sigh. Charity begins at home. So does mental illness.

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Evie didn't mind yelling, but she hated feeling judged. It got under her skin and made her feel small and ugly and unfixable.

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Harold Brodie is a louse and a lothario who cheats at cards and has a different girl in his rumble seat every week. That coupe of his is pos-i-tute-ly a petting palace. And he's a terrible kisser to boot. Evie's parents stared in stunned silence. Or so I've heard.

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Hot off the presses, today's headlines: The love of your life does not approve of my wanton flapper ways, Evie said in a voice of affected mystery. Really, Mabesie. You might want to reconsider—he is a bit of a killjoy.

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No one had ever said anything like that to Evie. Her parents always wanted to advise or instruct or command. They were good people, but they needed the world to bend to them, to fit into their order of things. Evie had never really quite fit, and when she tried, she'd just pop back out, like a doll squeezed into a too-small box.

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Next time we see you, you'll be on trial for some ingenious crime! Dottie said with a laugh. Evie grinned. Just as long as they know my name.

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What took you so long? Will asked when Evie came panting into the room. He and Jericho had assembled a stack of books, which they were tucking into Will's attaché case. I walked to Jerusalem for the Bible. I knew you'd want an original, Evie snapped.

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Will was making a speech, something about having been young and careless once, the sort of thing old-timers said when they issued a deathblow, as if they thought their sanctimonious ramblings disguised as empathy would be welcomed, but Evie was only half listening.

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She loved attention. It was like a glass of the best champagne—bubbly and intoxicating—and as with champagne, she always wanted more of it. Still, she didn't want to seem like an easy mark. If you must know, I've come to join a convent, Evie said, testing him.

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There were few things worse than being ordinary, in Evie's opinion. Ordinary was for suckers.

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Evie wanted to cry. From fear. From exhaustion, yes. But mostly from the cruel uselessness, the damned stupid arbitrariness of it all.

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Evie was so nervous that she downed her cocktail in two stiff swigs, then refilled her glass. Henry arched an eyebrow. A pro, I see. What else is there to do in Ohio?

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With each shimmy, the bugle beads on their scandalously revealing costumes swung and shook. It was the sort of display Evie knew her mother would have found appalling—an example of the moral decay of the young generation. It was sexual and dangerous and thrilling, and Evie wanted more of it.

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You can't blame a fella for kissing the prettiest girl in New York, can you, sister? Sam's grin was anything but apologetic. Evie brought up her knee quickly and decisively, and he dropped to the floor like a grain sack. You can't blame a girl for her quick reflexes now, can you, pal?

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The man in the shop peered disapprovingly at Evie through the glass. She pumped her arms and legs up and down in imitation of a marching band, gave the man a salute, and continued her meandering walk to the museum.

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If there was one truth Evie had learned in her short life, it was that forgiveness was easier to seek than permission. She didn't plan to ask for either one.

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A pair of Blue Noses on the next bench glared their disapproval at Evie's knee-length dress. Evie decided to give them a real show. She hiked her skirt and, humming jauntily, rolled down her stockings, exposing her legs. It had the desired effect on the Blue Noses, who moved down the platform, clucking about the disgrace of the young. She would not miss this place.

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The police have asked for my help. There's been a murder." "A murder! Oh, my. Let me just change my shoes," Evie said excitedly. "It won't be a minute.

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She is the elephant's eyebrows, Evie whispered appreciatively. Those jewels! How her neck must ache. That's why Bayer makes aspirin, Mabel whispered back, and Evie smiled, knowing that even a socialist wasn't immune to the dazzle of a movie star.

Libba Bray