You stand for what is right, Lina, without the expectation of gratitude or reward. Ruta Sepetys More Quotes by Ruta Sepetys More Quotes From Ruta Sepetys What do you do with all this bank, Josie? Be a lot easier if you just lifted your skirt.” “The only reason I’d lift my skirt is to pull out my pistol and plug you in the head. Ruta Sepetys pistolsskirtsreason Sometimes kindness can be delivered in a clumsy way. But it's far more sincere in its clumsiness than those distinguished men you read about in books. Your father was very clumsy. Ruta Sepetys kindnessfatherbook David Arnold's writing is both heartfelt and hilarious. You will fall in love with Mim, even as her grand journey will keep you guessing. Mosquitoland reminds us that sometimes imperfect is just perfect. Ruta Sepetys falling-in-lovejourneywriting Have you ever wondered what a human life is worth? That morning, my brother's was worth a pocket watch. Ruta Sepetys pocketsbrothermorning Let me tell you something 'bout these rich Uptown folk," said Cokie. "They got everything that money can buy, their bank accounts are fat, but they ain't happy. They ain't ever gone be happy. You know why? They soul broke. And money can't fix that, no sir. Ruta Sepetys uptownsoulgone Sometimes there is such beauty in awkwardness. There's love and emotion trying to express itself, but at the time, it just ends up being awkward. Ruta Sepetys awkwardemotiontrying Man, you’re a regular Bonnie Parker.” “A dame that knows the ropes isn’t likely to get tied up.” Jesse found that hysterical. “Did Willie say that?” “Nope, Mae West. Now, how do I get on this thing in a skirt? Ruta Sepetys damesskirtsmen If I poured all the lies I had told into the Mississippi, the river would rise and flood the city. Ruta Sepetys citiesriverslying Willie said normal was boring and that I should be grateful that I had a touch of spice. She said no one cared about boring people, and when they died, they were forgotten, like something that slips behind the dresser. Ruta Sepetys spicesgratefulpeople It amazed me how some people could touch an instrument and create something so beautiful, and when others tried, like me, it just sounded like mangled noise. Ruta Sepetys noisebeautifulpeople My husband, Andrius, says that evil will rule until good men or women choose to act. I believe him. This testimony was written to create an absolute record, to speak in a world where our voices have been extinguished. These writing may shock or horrify you, but that is not my intention. It is my greatest hope that the pages in this jar stir your deepest well of human compassion. I hope they prompt you to do something, to tell somone. Only then can we ensure that this kind of evil is never allowed to repeat itself. Ruta Sepetys husbandwritingbelieve Charlie Marlowe never wrote horror, but somehow horror was writing Charlie Marlowe. Ruta Sepetys marlowehorrorwriting I adore themes of hope and courage and the ways we find meaning through suffering. Ruta Sepetys themesufferingway Sometimes kindness can be delivered in a clumsy way. Ruta Sepetys clumsinesskindnessway We all laced together—a brothel madam, an English professor, a mute cook, a quadroon cabbie, and me, the girl carrying a bucket of lies and throwing them like confetti. Ruta Sepetys girltogetherlying How did I get here How did I end up in the arms of a boy I barely knew but knew I didn't want to lose I wondered what I would have thought of Andrius in Lithuania. Would I have liked him Would he have liked me Ruta Sepetys armswantboys Was it harder to die, or harder to be the one who survived? Ruta Sepetys survivedharderdies You like me, Josie Moraine. You just don't know it yet. Ruta Sepetys josielike-meknows I wasn't certain of anything anymore, except that New Orleans was a faithless friend and I wanted to leave her. Ruta Sepetys certainnew-orleanswanted My breathing slowed. I shaded her thick chestnut hair resting in a smooth curve against her face, a large bruise blazing across her cheek. I paused, looking over my shoulder to make certain I was alone. I drew her eye makeup, smudged by tears. In her watery eyes I drew the reflection of the commander, standing in front of her, his fist clenched. I continued to sketch, exhaled, and shook out my hands. Ruta Sepetys makeupeyereflection
