Quote

His voice was cloves and nightingales, it took us to spice markets in the Celebs, we drifted with him on a houseboat beyond the Coral Sea. We were like cobras following a reed flute.

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
Following
Flute
Sea
Nightingales
Took
Flutes
Beyond
Reed
Voice
Spice
Celebs
Like
Reeds
Cobras
Spices
Coral
Markets
Drifted

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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Memory is the fourth dimension to any landscape.
Janet Fitch
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I'm incredibly restless. I read a lot of poetry. I also find myself reading the first 20 pages of everything, looking for something. And you know what? I'm usually looking for the book I'm writing. And it's not out there!
Janet Fitch
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A cliche is everything you've ever heard of.
Janet Fitch
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When I read, I want to be fully transported to another place. I want to feel things, smell things.
Janet Fitch
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Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.
Janet Fitch
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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
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In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show.
Janet Fitch
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Remember...we don't see objects, we see light. [...] Light can do anything water can do--flow, wash, trickle. It can do anything an artist can do--paint, burnish, carve. Candlelight falls, licks a face. There is always light in a room.
Janet Fitch
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We have no home, she told me. I am your home.
Janet Fitch
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To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
Janet Fitch
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I use my fiction to explore my own unconscious issues. I usually don't even know what's going on with me until I'm writing.
Janet Fitch
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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?
Janet Fitch
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There is no God, there is only what you want.
Janet Fitch
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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
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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They dream of men with gentle hands, eloquent with tenderness, fingers that brushed along a cheek, that outlined open lips in the lovers' braille. Hands that sculpted sweetness from sullen flesh, that traced breast and ignited hips, opening, kneading. Flesh becomes bread in the heat of those hands, braided and rising.
Janet Fitch
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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
Janet Fitch
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What happened to a dream without a dreamer?
Janet Fitch
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I wondered where he was now whether I would ever hear him again. Whether someone would love him, someday show him what beauty mean't.
Janet Fitch
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I emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.
Janet Fitch