You and I, we must carry on, Gemma. I cannot afford the luxury of love. I must marry well. And now I must look after you. It is my duty." "If you wish to suffer, you do so of your own free will, not on my behalf. Or Father's or Grandmama's or anyone's. You are a fine physician, Thomas. Why is that not enough?" "Because it isn't," he says with a rare candor. "Only this and the hope of nothing more? A quiet respectability with no true greatness or heroism in it, with only my reputation to recommend me. So you see, Gemma, you are not the only one who cannot rule her own life.
Libba BrayWhat Hamlet suffers from is a lack of zombies. Let us say Rosencrantz and Guildenstern show upโHo-HO! Now youโve got something that stirs the, um, something that stirs things that are stirrable. BOOM! A pack of ravenous flesh-eaters breaks open their heads and sucks out their eyeballs. No need for iambic pentameter because they are grunting, groaning annihilators of humanity with no time for meter. Youโre not asleep in the back of English class anymore, are you? This is what Iโm talking about. Zombies. Learn it, live it, love it.
Libba BrayShe smiled as sweetly as a show poster for the glorified, all-American Ziegfeld girl just before dumping her second cigarette into Wallyโs fresh cup of coffee.
Libba BrayOh, I've a love, a true, true love, who waits upon yon shore... and if my love won't be my love, then I will live no more.
Libba BrayWhat do you feel? Iโve never been asked this question once. None of us has. We arenโt supposed to feel. Weโre British.
Libba BrayThere is no greater power on this earth than story.โ Will paced the length of the room. โPeople think boundaries and borders build nations. Nonsenseโwords do. Beliefs, declarations, constitutionsโwords. Stories. Myths. Lies. Promises. History.โ Will grabbed the sheaf of newspaper clippings he kept in a stack on his desk. โThis, and theseโโhe gestured to the libraryโs teeming shelvesโโtheyโre a testament to the countryโs rich supernatural history.
Libba Bray