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I closed my eyes to watch tiny dancers like jeweled birds cross the dark screen of my eyelids.
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
Eye
Cross
Like
Crosses
Eyelids
Tiny
Dancers
Bird
Dancer
Watches
Closed
Watch
Birds
Eyes
Screen
Dark
Screens
More quotes by Janet Fitch
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.
Janet Fitch
She should think about her own soul, what she was going to do with this funky tattered pond dank item. Dark and stained, a ruined thing.
Janet Fitch
Being in the library is so addictive for me that I really have to exercise self-control so I can get some writing done at home.
Janet Fitch
No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.
Janet Fitch
He hated crowds, never liked punk. He couldn't handle the nakedness of the rage -his own so sophisticated and finely tuned. He could never see the similarity between himself and Donnie Draino screaming into a mic.
Janet Fitch
Don't hoard the past. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge.
Janet Fitch
I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.
Janet Fitch
Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your mind. In life, knowledge of poisons is essential. I've told you, nobody becomes an artist unless they have to.
Janet Fitch
But I knew one more thing. That people w ho denied who they were or where they had been were in the greatest danger.
Janet Fitch
It's not that he was going nowhere, it's that he'd already arrived.
Janet Fitch
history only existed in the human mind, subject to endless revision. 'each man kills the thing he loves'-Oscar Wilde. You kill it before it kills you, but he was wrong. you killed it by accident. thinking you were doing something else. shattering, when all you wanted to do was keep it safe.
Janet Fitch
Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins.
Janet Fitch
Although she was giddy with exhaustion, sleep was a lover who refused to be touched.
Janet Fitch
We read so that we can be moved by a new way of looking at things.
Janet Fitch
here, here is my dark world. you carry it for a change. im out
Janet Fitch
I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds.
Janet Fitch
My house is modern, but I like my writing room to be old fashioned. I write on a little wooden secretary desk.
Janet Fitch
The story of her life. God gave you everything just to take it away. Just so you knew exactly what you were missing.
Janet Fitch
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.
Janet Fitch
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple.
Janet Fitch