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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: 68
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Face
Fashioned
Faces
Destructive
Born
Gun
Girl
Rain
Truth
Girls
Like
Hold
Gunpowder
Learned
Exploded
Knowing
November
More quotes by Janet Fitch
Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay.
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this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces
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It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have.
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No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.
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What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?
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I'm a fish swimming by...catch me if you want me.
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The story of her life. God gave you everything just to take it away. Just so you knew exactly what you were missing.
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Women always put men first. That's how everything got so screwed up.
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My father was an engineer - he wasn't literary, not a writer or a journalist, but he was one of the world's great readers. Every two weeks, he'd take me to our local branch library and pull books off the shelf for me, stacking them up in my arms - 'Have you read this? And this? And this?
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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.
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I was always mortified.Didn't they know they were tying thier mothers to the ground? Weren't chains ashamed of their prisoners?
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How could anybody confuse truth with beauty, I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with sunken eyes, bony or scarred, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.
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To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
Janet Fitch
I felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
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Her hatred glittered irresistibly. I could see it, the jewel, it was sapphire, it was the cold lakes of Norway.
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We strive for beauty and balance, the sensual over the sentimental.
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You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem.
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I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds.
Janet Fitch
Appealing to the five senses is the feature that will always set writing apart from the visual media. A good writer will tell us what the world smells like, what the textures are, what the sounds are, what the light looks like, what the weather is.
Janet Fitch
Depression, suffering and anger are all part of being human.
Janet Fitch