Brianna Brickey

“What hath night to do with sleep?”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“Sometimes, as we're stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.”
― Susan Ee, Angelfall

“He was a coward at heart, you see, although I never said the word out loud to him —not then and not ever. Doing that's about the most dangerous thing a person can do, I think, because a coward is more afraid of being discovered than he is of anything else, even dying.”
― Stephen King, Dolores Claiborne

“What were the conditions in which women lived, I asked myself; for fiction, imaginative work that is, is not dropped like a pebble upon the ground, as science may be; fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible; Shakespeare's plays, for instance, seem to hang there complete by themselves. But when the web is pulled askew, hooked up at the edge, torn in the middle, one remembers that these webs are not spun in mid-air by incorporeal creatures, but are work of suffering human beings, and are attached to grossly material things, like health and money and the houses we live in.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own