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Quote by Liz Braswell

“She had been sad. She had been melancholy. She had cursed her fate as a voiceless monarch, railing against her lot quietly. Once in a while she had a burst of temper when she wanted to be heard and no one would listen, when people were shouting over her and ignoring her hands, as if because she had no voice she had nothing to say.”

Quote by Liz Braswell

Book:Part of Your World
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Part of Your World

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Liz Braswell

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“I said to the moon, “It’s a matter of great grief to me despite seeing my friends in joy. Why is life so unfair to me? Why is it that I can’t dream the way they can? Why don’t I have time like the rest of them? Oh god, am I not your child? Am I just a burden in your creation? What wrong have I done? If I share all my sorrows, the sky might just break into tears. Why does it have to be me? Who’ll look after my grandma if I am gone?”

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Book:A Play of the Cosmos: Script of the Stars
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“She didn’t reply. She just walked away and left me all alone under the lonely cherry tree. Tears began to ripple in my eyes. I leaned on the trunk and buried my face into my hands and the tree. Maybe this was what it was like to be heartbroken. The bright noon at school suddenly felt like the deepest caves under the sea. The summer heat suddenly felt like Siberia’s chill.”

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Book:A Play of the Cosmos: Script of the Stars
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“Life was teaching me hard lessons and asking me hard questions and I was just a mere drunkard hovering in a maze. Questions arose inside me – questions like, ‘What good is a progress if you don’t have anyone to celebrate with?’ or ‘What good is a triumph when it feels like a loss?’ and a lot more. I had gone astray in a complete world of my own. I just merely existed. But for all that the world knew, I was smiling at everyone for no reason.”

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Book:A Play of the Cosmos: Script of the Stars
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“NOVEMBER Now chill & grey November Come slowly o'er the plain, Drearily the winter wind Sings songs of future pain. Wrapped closely in deep grey, She scarcely will let pass A little ray of sun To cheer the sodden grass. She scatters with her hand The leaves dried up and brown, The few that yet remain From gay October's crown. Her eyes and dark and sad, Sad for the dying year, And often in the mist There falls a silent tear. Beneath a cheerless sky The trees are standing bare, The fog has risen thick And she is no more there.”

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Author:Beatrice Crane
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