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 BillingsleyMots clés thoughts
Blast Cecil!” said Eldric.
“You have my permission,” I said.
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 would say it was hard to believe, but it wasn’t.
Franny BillingsleyIt’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.
Franny BillingsleyMots clés witches murderesses
I think about the Old Ones, that they have a past but no history. I think about the inevitability of death, and whether it’s not that very inevitability that inspires us to take photographs and make scrapbooks and tell stories. That that’s how we humans find our way to immortality. This is not a new thought; I’ve had such thoughts before. But I have a new thought now.
That that’s how we find our way toward meaning.
Meaning. If you’re going to die, you want to find meaning in life.
You want to connect the dots.
Mots clés inspiration history death meaning inevitabilities
You could at least complain,” I say. “I adore complaining. It calms the nerves.
Franny BillingsleyMots clés humor complaining
Darling! Had they darlinged each other when they were here? I imagined them, magnificent on horseback, tossing darlings to and fro.
Franny BillingsleyWitches don’t look like anything. Witches are. Witches do.
Franny BillingsleyMots clés witches
That’s where proper stories begin, don’t they, when the handsome stranger arrives and everything goes wrong?
Franny BillingsleyA girl can have the face of an angel but have a horrid sort of heart.
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