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Girls were born knowing how destructive the truth could be. They learned to hold it in, tamp it down, like gunpowder in an old fashioned gun. Then it exploded in your face on a November day in the rain.
Janet Fitch
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Janet Fitch
Age: 69
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Girl
Rain
Truth
Girls
Like
Hold
Gunpowder
Learned
Exploded
Knowing
November
Face
Fashioned
Faces
Destructive
Born
Gun
More quotes by Janet Fitch
That kind of tenderness couldn't be permitted to last. You only got a taste, enough to know what perfection meant, and then you paid for it the rest of your life. Like the guy chained to a rock, who stole fire. The gods made an eagle eat his liver for all eternity. You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.
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I felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
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I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.
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One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright.
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I'm a fish swimming by...catch me if you want me.
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The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.
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To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
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Depression, suffering and anger are all part of being human.
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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
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How can I shed tears for a man I should never have allowed to touch me in any way?
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The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.
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Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.
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My house is modern, but I like my writing room to be old fashioned. I write on a little wooden secretary desk.
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I couldn't imagine owning beauty like my mothers. I wouldn't dare.
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Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair.
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Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.
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A womans mistakes are different from a girls
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Who was I, really? I was the sole occupant of my mother's totalitarian state, my own personal history rewritten to fit the story she was telling that day. There were so many missing pieces. I was starting to find some of them, working my way upriver, collecting a secret cache of broken memories in a shoebox.
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Once you get below the floor of our personal identities, we're all connected. Perhaps that's why we can move into others' lives.
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like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.
Janet Fitch