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It's important to tell your story. It's important to listen.

Francesca Lia Block

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Francesca Lia Block
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: January 3
Editor
Novelist
Poet
Writer
LA
California
Important
Listening
Listen
Story
Tell
Stories

More quotes by Francesca Lia Block

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Everything was fine, but Weetzie wanted a baby. “How could you want one?” My Secret Agent Lover Man said. “There are way too many babies. And diseases. And nuclear accidents. And crazy psychos. We cant have a baby,” he said.
Francesca Lia Block
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Wish on everything. Pink cars are good, especially old ones. And stars of course, first stars and shooting stars. Planes will do if they are the first light in the sky and look like stars. Wish in tunnels, holding your breath and lifting your feet off the ground. Birthday candles. Baby teeth.
Francesca Lia Block
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No matter how bad things get, you can always see the beauty in them. The worse things get, the more you have to make yourself see the magic in order to survive.
Francesca Lia Block
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He said that black sheeps express everyone else's anger and pain. It's not that they have all the anger and pain-they're just the only ones who let it out. Then the other people don't have to.
Francesca Lia Block
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You were just a boy on a bed in a room, like a kaleidoscope is a tube full of bits of broken glass. But the way I saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew.
Francesca Lia Block
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I believe we recover from loss by facing the loss, grieving, going deep inside ourselves (hopefully with a guide) and re-emerging to live and love again.
Francesca Lia Block
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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.
Francesca Lia Block
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Love is a dangerous angel.
Francesca Lia Block
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Choose to believe in your own myth your own glamour your own spell a young woman who does this (even if she is just pretending) has everything.
Francesca Lia Block
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Relieved because what I dreaded most in the whole world was going to happen and I wouldn’t have to live with it anymore—the fear. There is the relief of finally not being alone and the relief of being alone when no one can take anything away from you. Here she was, my beautiful fear. Shiny as crystal lace frost.
Francesca Lia Block
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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.
Francesca Lia Block
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At least the girls in stories were alive before they died.
Francesca Lia Block
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I think that poetry is perfect for women raising children, with just bits of time and such need to connect to other women out of the isolation of motherhood.
Francesca Lia Block
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We no longer believe in fairy tales. But we will learn to believe in monsters
Francesca Lia Block
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Maybe her own tears were the poison that made her grow.
Francesca Lia Block
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There’s nowhere to escape,” Dobey said, jamming his hands into his pockets and staring into the Valley. That’s not true, baby,” said Desiree. She took his hands and pulled him to her, wrapping her legs around his torso. She could feel the sobs in both of them, but quiet, silenced by the kiss. They could escape inside each other.
Francesca Lia Block
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I saw my own blood and I thought, how could I live in a world where this exists- where love can become death?
Francesca Lia Block
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Love is the worst earthquake there is. Can crush you to the thickness of your bones. Love can be like cancer sometimes. Terminal. It can make you vomit. It can make you want to cut it out. It can take you over against your will.
Francesca Lia Block
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I will not eat cakes or cookies or food. I will be thin, thin, pure. I will be pure and empty. Weight dropping off. Ninety-nine... ninety-five... ninety-two... ninety. Just one more to eighty-nine. Where does it go? Where in the universe does it go?
Francesca Lia Block
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Just like any woman,...we weave our stories out of our bodies. Some of us through our children, or our art some do it just by living. It's all the same.
Francesca Lia Block