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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.

Francesca Lia Block

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Francesca Lia Block
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: January 3
Editor
Novelist
Poet
Writer
LA
California
Free
Ran
Wish
Creature
Girl
Desert
Littles
Clouds
Little
Creatures
Much
Lived
Deserts
Life
Needed
Lilies
Wasn
Slept

More quotes by Francesca Lia Block

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You make me feel like I have wings when you touch me.
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You are so intense. Like a storm. It's shocking how intense you are.
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Maybe her own tears were the poison that made her grow.
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We no longer believe in fairy tales. But we will learn to believe in monsters
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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.
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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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What sexual preference do you hope she has?” “Happiness.” Isnt that cool?
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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.
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In order to have bliss you have to be able to accept all the parts of the other, all the wildness and the darkness. You have to be able to hold on.
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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.
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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 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?
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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.
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Sometimes a wild horse needs to feel that his rider is just a little bit wilder.
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Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.
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I try to see the dark and light in everything. This is my way of comforting myself when I am dealing with those emotions.
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The wishes might not come true the way you think they will, not everything will be perfect, but love will come because it always does, because why else would it exist and it will make everything hurt a little less. You just have to believe in yourself.
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What happens to the rest of something when you smash its heart?
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It's important to tell your story. It's important to listen.
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At least the girls in stories were alive before they died.
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