A poem doesn’t come out and tell you what it has to say. It circles back on itself, eating its own tail and making you guess what it means. Franny Billingsley More Quotes by Franny Billingsley More Quotes From Franny Billingsley Even a witch wants sympathy. Franny Billingsley witch want sympathy Witches don’t look like anything. Witches are. Witches do. Franny Billingsley witch looks If you say a word, it leaps out and becomes the truth. I love you. I believe it. I believe I am loveable. How can something as fragile as a word build a whole world? Franny Billingsley love-you believe world When we were small, Rose and I used to play a game called connect the dots. I loved it. I loved drawing a line from dot number 1 to dot number 2 and so on. Most of all, I loved the moment when the chaotic sprinkle of dots resolved itself into a picture. That's what stories do. They connect the random dots of life into a picture. But it's all an illusion. Just try to connect the dots of life. You'll end up with a lunatic scribble. Franny Billingsley drawing games play I might be a wicked girl who'd think nothing of eating a baby for breakfast, but I'd never allow myself to get expelled. It's far too public. Franny Billingsley girl baby thinking Father’s silence is not merely the absence of sound. It’s a creature with a life of its own. It chokes you. It pinches you small as a grain of rice. It twists in your gut like a worm. Silence clawed at my throat. It left a taste of burnt matches. Franny Billingsley twists silence father 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. Franny Billingsley magic caring monsters Our English monarchs are so unimaginative,” said Eldric. “They execute people in such tediously conventional ways. Franny Billingsley said people way 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! Franny Billingsley intelligent mind rose That’s where proper stories begin, don’t they, when the handsome stranger arrives and everything goes wrong? Franny Billingsley handsome stranger stories People think me a sort of Florence Nightingale, but I have no heroic qualities. I simply don’t feel very much. Franny Billingsley florence-nightingale people thinking I like rain and mist. I've never understood why people exclaim over bright skies and bushels of glaring sunshine. Franny Billingsley sunshine rain sky This is what I want. I want people to take care of me. I want them to force comfort upon me. I want the soft-pillow feeling that I associate with memories of being ill when I was younger, soft pillows and fresh linens and satin-edged blankets and hot chocolate. It's not so much the comfort itself as knowing there's someone who wants to take care of you. Franny Billingsley knowing memories people 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. Franny Billingsley admitting depth mind How can something as fragile as a word build the whole world? Franny Billingsley spiritual-love inspiring-love world Father sighed. “Please spare me these arguments of yours.” “Whose arguments should I use? Franny Billingsley argument use father I should hate to be a regular girl with a sugar-plum voice. I should hate to have swan-like lashes, and a thick, sooty neck. I sound as though I’m joking, I know, but I should truly hate to be like Leanne, so charming and ordinary and stuffed with clichéd feelings. I’m glad I’m the ice maiden. Who wants to be crying over every stray dog? Not I. Scratch my surface and what do you see? More surface. Franny Billingsley girl hate dog You could at least complain,” I say. “I adore complaining. It calms the nerves. Franny Billingsley calm nerves complaining It’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 Billingsley witch sound forget 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 Billingsley girl mind believe
