So I bought A Game of Thrones ebook on Amazon like two hours ago and have been reading nonstop. 

So much for Beauty Queens…well, I was wanting to save that for the flight to New York anyways (sidenote: first time I will ever fly on a plane). If I die in a plane crash I want to go out reading Libba Bray.

But seriously this story about the plane crash in Nigeria is really freaking me out. Like I’m going to google the plane we’re flying on and see how old it is and shit. You think that family going to see the wedding or those sisters from Texas thought they were going to die? Nope. 

Anywho, the book is really good. Not sure how many pages in I am because it’s an e-book and e-books are stupid but cheap and easy to get. I am worried that the multiple POV’s will be a challenge for me because I’m not usually very good with that, but so far they are so well written I haven’t been too bothered. I read that they follow three major plotlines so hopefully that will help too.

fuckyeahlibbabray
I take one plump berry and place it on my tongue, tasting it. It is not tart. Rather, there is only a pleasant sweetness and then nothing. It is the taste of forgetting. Of sleep and dreams with no waking. Never to long or yearn, to struggle or hurt or love or desire ever again. And I understand that this is what it truly means to lose your soul.
Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing (via foraliveyouwillevermorebe)
fuckyeahlibbabray
Heaven’s brightest and best-loved angel, who was cast out for inspiring a rebellion against God. Having lost Heaven, Lucifer and his rebel angels vowed to continue fighting here on earth.”
“I don’t understand why he had to fight. He was already in heaven.”
“True. But he wasn’t content to serve. He wanted more.”
“He had all he could ask for, didn’t he?” Ann asks.
“Exactly.” Miss Moore states. “He had to ask. He was dependent upon someone else’s whim. It’s a terrible thing to have no power of one’s own. To be denied.
Rebel Angels, Libba Bray (via lifeslittleinnuendos)
fuckyeahlibbabray
But forgiveness… I’ll hold on to that fragile slice of hope and keep it close, remembering that in each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We’re each of us our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, something real. We’ve got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there’s an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light all the time
Libba Bray- A Great and Terrible Beauty (via lessthanlovely)