She was tired of being told how it was by this generation, whoโd botched things so badly. Theyโd sold their children a pack of lies: God and country. Love your parents. All is fair. And then theyโd sent those boys, her brother, off to fight a great monster of a war that maimed and killed and destroyed whatever was inside them. Still they lied, expecting her to mouth the words and play along. Well, she wouldnโt. She knew now that the world was a long way from fair. She knew the monsters were real.
Libba BrayNo 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, sheโd just pop back out, like a doll squeezed into a too-small box.
Libba BrayEvie wanted to cry. From fear. From exhaustion, yes. But mostly from the cruel uselessness, the damned stupid arbitrariness of it all.
Libba BrayPeople tend to think that hate is the most dangerous emotion. But love is equally dangerous,โ Will said. โThere are many stories of spirits haunting the places and people who meant the most to them. In fact, there are more of those than there are revenge stories.
Libba BrayI know it. I know I shall make beastly mistakes, Father-" "The world does not forgive mistakes so quickly, my girl." He sounds bitter and sad. "If the world will not forgive me," I say softly, "I shall have to learn to forgive myself." He nods in understanding. "And how will you marry? Or do you intend to marry?" I think of Kartik, and tears threaten. "I shall meet someone one day, as Mother found you.
Libba Bray