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Quote by Robin Wasserman

“They wanted their girls to be safe. To do what they had to do to conform, to defer, to survive, to grow up. They wanted their girls never to grow up. Never to stop burning. They wanted their girls to say fuck it, to see through the lies, to know their own strength. They wanted their girls to believe the things could be different this time, and they wanted it to be true. They wondered, sometimes, if they'd made a mistake. If it was dangerous, taming the wild, stealing away the words a girl might use to name her secret self. They wondered at the consequences of teaching a girl she was weak instead of warning her she was strong. They wondered, if knowing was power, what happened to power that refused to know itself; they wondered what happened that couldn't be satisfied, to pain that couldn't be felt, a rage that couldn't be spoken.”

Quote by Robin Wasserman

Work

Girls on Fire

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Author

Robin Wasserman
Robin Wasserman

Robin Wasserman, born on May 31, 1978, is an accomplished American novelist known for her diverse range of works, including young adult literature, mystery, and science fiction. Her novels are praised for their emotional depth and engaging storytelling. more

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“She is a Weyward. And she carries another Weyward inside her. She gathers herself together, every cell blazing, and thinks: Now. The window breaks, a waterfall of sharp sounds. The room grows dark with feathered bodies, shooting through the broken window, the fireplace. Beaks, claws, and eyes flashing. Feathers brushing her skin. Simon yells, his hand loosening on her throat. She sucks in the air, falling to her knees, one hand cradling her stomach. Something touches her foot, and she sees a dark tide of spiders spreading across the floor. Birds continue to stream through the window. Insects, too: the azure flicker of damselflies, moths with orange eyes on their wings. Tiny, gossamer mayflies. Bees in a ferocious golden swarm. She feels something sharp on her shoulder, its claws digging into her flesh. She looks up at blue-black feathers, streaked with white. A crow. The same crow that has watched over her since she arrived. Tears fill her eyes, and she knows in that moment that she is not alone in the cottage. Altha is there, in the spiders that dance across the floor. Violet is there, in the mayflies that glisten and undulate like some great silver snake. And all the other Weyward women, from the first of the line, are there, too. They have always been with her, and always will be.”

“I think that the media and its influencers send out a negative message to young girls these days, when it comes to the relationship between power and money. The message that young girls receive these days, from watching reality t.v. shows and such, is that the more money you spend, the more powerful you are. But I'd like young girls everywhere to know that it's not about the money that you spend; but what it's really about is the money that you have! Financial power lies in actually having money and your intelligence is determined by how you spend it. And it's not even about buying only what you need, because we should have the things that we want, too, not only the things that we need! But it's more about knowing the value of material things because without the knowledge of the value, things aren't going to make you happy, because there's always something more that you can buy! So you've got to know how to buy what's really going to make you happy and not just buy things for the sake of spending.”

“I am sure you understand," Father began, looking past Violet at the wall, "that I cannot allow you back into my house after what you have done. I have arranged for you to be taken to a finishing school in Scotland. You will stay there for two years, and after that I will decide what is to be done with you." Violet heard Graham clear his throat. "No," she said, before her brother could open his mouth to speak. "That won't be acceptable, I'm afraid, Father." His jowls slackened with shock. He looked as if she had slapped him. "I beg your pardon?" "I won't be going to Scotland. In fact, I won't be going anywhere. I'm staying right here." As she spoke, Violet became aware of a strange simmering sensation, as though electricity was humming beneath her skin. Images flashed in her mind---a crow cutting through the air, wings glittered with snow; the spokes of a wheel spinning. Briefly, she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling until she could almost see it, glinting gold inside her. "That is not for you to decide," said Father. The window was open, and a bee flitted about the room, wings a silver blur. It flew near Father's cheek and he jerked away from it. "It's been decided." She stood up straight, her dark eyes boring into Father's watery ones. He blinked. The bee hovered about his face, dancing away from his hands, and she saw sweat break out on his nose. Soon it was joined by another, and then another and another, until it seemed like Father---shouting and swearing---had been engulfed in a cloud of tawny, glistening bodies. "I think it would be best if you left now, Father," said Violet softly. "After all, as you said, I'm my mother's daughter.”

“I encourage women and girls all over the world to stop mentally abusing themselves by comparing themselves to others and negative self-talk… To love and accept themselves for who THEY are because that’s true woman and girl power… There’s no greater love than the unconditional love that you give to yourself… Female power starts within!”

“When he starts trying to turn you into his "friends with benefits", you've got to tell him, "If I wanted just sex, I could get that within the next forty-five minutes. I could get that at the snap of my fingers. Don't be offering me something cheap and easy, because if that's what I wanted, that's what I would have, that's what I would be doing right now." Between the man and the woman, it always has been the woman who does not need to lift a finger to have sex. Men need to hunt for it, all we need to do is spread our legs. Men think we've forgotten that (and maybe we have forgotten it), and they are currently beating us at our own game, breaking our hearts, turning us into disposable, usable items. And we're letting them. But why? They are the ones who need to plot and strive to get sex, meanwhile for us, it's never even an effort! Remind the boy. Remind him.”

“Me entró entonces la duda de si habría poseído alguna vez un don que no fuese el de la fabulación; llegué a dudar, incluso, de la existencia de los poderes que las mujeres de mi familia materna habían creído poseer. Era posible que se tratase sólo de supersticiones, me decía; quizá tanto yo como mi madre, con su supuesta y gran destreza, lo único que habíamos hecho era creernos a pies juntillas -hasta el punto de dar por cierto cuanto creíamos ver- los cuentos de unas infelices, de unas pobres ancianas sumisas y candorosamente malévolas, como mi crédula abuela,la madre de mi madre, que tanto entusiasmo sentía por la adivinación.”