Quote

Pulling heads off Barbies, sticking them on the TV antenna and ruining the reception. But thats how witch babies are.

Francesca Lia Block

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Francesca Lia Block
Age: 63
Born: 1962
Born: January 3
Editor
Novelist
Poet
Writer
LA
California
Baby
Barbie
Reception
Sticking
Thats
Witch
Babies
Barbies
Pulling
Antenna
Heads
Ruining

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She began to feel like the plastic doll she had been named after, without even a hole where her mouth was supposed to be.
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I'll be inside the one who holds you. And then I won't be.
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Sometimes I wanted to peel away all of my skin and find a different me underneath.
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Writing is literally transformative. When we read, we are changed. When we write, we are changed. It's neurological. To me, this is a kind of magic.
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But be careful sand is already broken but glass breaks. The shoes are for dancing, not running away.
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Pianos, unlike people, sing when you give them your every growl. They know how to dive into the pit of your stomach and harmonize with your roars when you’ve split yourself open. And when they see you, guts shining, brain pulsing, heart right there exposed in a rhythm that beats need need, need need, need need, pianos do not run. And so she plays.
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Everything was chocolate ice cream and kisses and wind.
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i could see the veins through your skin like a map to inside you. how could skin be that thin? i was so afraid you might drop and break. i stopped breathing so you wouldn't.
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I think depression creates in me an urgent need to write, but I also believe that daily stress, and even the positive stress of intense happiness, can compel me to express myself through the written word.
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I didn't tell him that what I was most scared of, most haunted by, was something I didn't understand and could never run away from. It was myself.
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War is being reminded that you are completely at the mercy of death at every moment, without the illusion that you are not. Without the distractions that make life worth living.
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Ugster vinyl pumps, Partridge Family records, plastic daisy jewelry, old postcards. . . . It's a magpie Christmas market.
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Maybe her own tears were the poison that made her grow.
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Stories are like genies...They can carry us into and though our sorrows. Sometimes they burn, sometimes they dance, sometimes they weep, sometimes they sing. Like genies, everyone has one. Like genies, sometimes we forget that we do. Our stories can set us free...When we set them free.
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I dont know about happily ever after... but I know about happily, Weetzie Bat thought.
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You have to make your own family, your own life.
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Any alphabet book for children where 'P is for Patti' Smith and 'X is for the women whose names we don't know' is something I can recommend, especially when the book is as well written, representationa lly diverse and vividly illustrated as this one.
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I wanted to die, then. I wanted to destroy the body I was trapped in, become what she was, no matter what it took. No matter how much mutilation or pain. But he looked away, at me. He pulled my face down and pressed my lips against his like he was almost trying to suffocate us both.
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Pain can give you sight or make you blind.
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I wish I wasn’t a girl who needed so much but a little free creature that slept in deserts and ran on clouds and lived on lilies.
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