Quote

She would buy magic every day of the week. Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you whatever you want.

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
Whatever
Faces
Give
Giving
Desperate
Every
Lonely
Would
Magic
Love
Week
Face

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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A cliché is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.
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A dependent clause (a sentence fragment set off by commas, dontcha know) helps you explore your story by moving you deeper into the sentence. It allows you to stop and think harder about what you've already written. Often the story you're looking for is inside the sentence. The dependent clause helps you uncover it.
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Wasn't that the way it always was? You didn't know, you couldn't tell, you just let it happen... Perhaps they didn't know themselves. Sometimes the line was very fine.
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No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.
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A cliche is everything you've ever heard of.
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If sinners where so unhappy, why would they prefer their suffering? But now I knew why. Without my wounds, who was I?
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I wandered through the stacks, running my hands along the spines of the books on the shelves, they reminded me of cultured or opinionated guests at a wonderful party, whispering to each other.
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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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I'm a fish swimming by...catch me if you want me.
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Now I wish she'd never broken any of her rules. I understood why she held to them so hard. Once you broke the first one, they all broke, one by one, like firecrackers exploding in your face in a parking lot on the Fourth of July.
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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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Don't hoard the past. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge.
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here, here is my dark world. you carry it for a change. im out
Janet Fitch
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I wanted to hear what she was saying. I wanted to smell that burnt midnight again, I wanted to feel that wind. It was a secret wanting, like a song I couldn't stop humming, or loving someone I could never have. No matter where I went, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.
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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.
Janet Fitch
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Find someone who will tremble for your touch, someone whose fingers are a poem.
Janet Fitch
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I wish my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart.
Janet Fitch
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It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have.
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Although she was giddy with exhaustion, sleep was a lover who refused to be touched.
Janet Fitch
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I took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages... and fell into it as into a pool during dry season.
Janet Fitch