Quote

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

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Janet Fitch
Age: 68
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Moved
Bursts
Blue
Neon
Urchins
Rocks
Purple
Barnacles
Among
Sharp
Stinging
Black
Surrounded
Starfish
Red
Edged
Fingers
Bouquets
Sea
Limp

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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.
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her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth
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Beauty was deceptive. I would rather wear my pain, my ugliness. I was torn and stitched. I was a strip mine, and they would just have to look. I hoped I made them sick. I hoped they saw me in their dreams.
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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.
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purification in fire. public cremation
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The nearest I'd come to feeling anything like God was the plan blue cloudless sky and a certain silence, but how do you pray to that?
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How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention.
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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.
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That was what she really wanted. To forget so thoroughly she'd never have another memory again, the bitter so bitter you gave up the sweet.
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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.
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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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It's not that he was going nowhere, it's that he'd already arrived.
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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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without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.
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Memory is the fourth dimension to any landscape.
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This is what happens when you fall in love. You're looking at a natural disaster.
Janet Fitch
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To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
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Isn't it funny.I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than i ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.
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Dawn tinted the darkness like water ink.
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No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.
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