Janet Fitch Quotes

this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces

If this was a sandalwood pyre she would have thrown herself in and this paper she'd become would have caught fire and she and him could sail away like two birds.

Just because a poet said something didn’t mean it was true, only that it sounded good.

What is real is always worth it.

here, here is my dark world. you carry it for a change. im out

Do you ever want to go home?' I asked Paul. He brushed an ash from my face. 'It's the century of the displaced person,' he said. 'You can never go home.

Being in the library is so addictive for me that I really have to exercise self-control so I can get some writing done at home.

Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair.

I emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.

The cake had a trick candle that wouldn't go out, so I didn't get my wish. Which was just that it would always be like this, that my life could be a party just for me.

What can I say about life? Do I praise it for letting you live, or damn it for allowing the rest?

A novel is like a dream in which everyone is you. They’re all parts of yourself.

I decided that if I was never going to sell anything as long as I lived, I might as well do what I want to do 'cause then at least I would've done what I wanted to do in life. What's that worth?

A person didn’t need to be beautiful, they just needed to be loved. But I couldn’t help wanting it. If that was the way I could be loved, to be beautiful, I’d take it

She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad.

A womans mistakes are different from a girls

Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.

I was always mortified.Didn't they know they were tying thier mothers to the ground? Weren't chains ashamed of their prisoners?

His voice was cloves and nightingales, it took us to spice markets in the Celebs, we drifted with him on a houseboat beyond the Coral Sea. We were like cobras following a reed flute.

I tried writing fiction as a little kid, but had a teacher humiliate me, so didn't write again until I was a senior in college.

Depression, suffering and anger are all part of being human.

A fish has no concept of water.

You can't shape me anymore. I am the uncontrolled element, the random act. I am forward movement in time. You think you can see me? Then tell me, who am I? You don't know.

Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.

My hatred gives me strength.

She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.

I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children between friends family things you think are eternal. Everything could be lost more easily than anyone could imagine.

The night crackled ... Everything had turned to static electricity in the heat. I combed my hair to watch the sparks fly from the ends.

I could hear the icy winds of Sweden, but he didn't seem to feel the chill.

I wanted to tell her not to entertain despair like this. Despaire wasn't a guest, you didn't play its favorite music, find it a comfortable chair. Despair was the enemy." -white oleander

Although she was giddy with exhaustion, sleep was a lover who refused to be touched.

My loneliness tasted like pennies.

I wandered through the stacks, running my hands along the spines of the books on the shelves, they reminded me of cultured or opinionated guests at a wonderful party, whispering to each other.

I'm a fish swimming by...catch me if you want me.

I felt beautiful but also interrupted. I wasn't used to being so complicated.

The nearest I'd come to feeling anything like God was the plan blue cloudless sky and a certain silence, but how do you pray to that?

The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.

There is no God, there is only what you want.

Who can judge another man's suffering?

We have no home, she told me. I am your home.

Death like a lover, caressing him, promising him peace, running its fingers through his hair, its tongue in his ear. She put her own two fingers in her mouth. Im so sorry. And pulled the trigger

As an artist, you can never get what you want. What you do never approaches what you want it to be.

These people picked you up and played with you and then left you lying in the rain

her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth

Never apologize. Never explain.

echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.

like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.

To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.

No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.

Dawn has a way of casting a pall on any night magic.