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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: 69
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Face
Whatever
Faces
Give
Giving
Desperate
Every
Lonely
Would
Magic
Love
Week
More quotes by Janet Fitch
Memory is the fourth dimension to any landscape.
Janet Fitch
When I read, I want to be fully transported to another place. I want to feel things, smell things.
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Love could never bloom in a concrete block room.
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echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
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She’s never where she is,' I said. 'She’s only inside her head.
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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 emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.
Janet Fitch
The word rattled in my head like rocks in an oatmeal box.
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
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.
Janet Fitch
Find someone who will tremble for your touch, someone whose fingers are a poem.
Janet Fitch
We recived our colouring from the Norsemen,hairy savages who hacked their gods to pieces and hung the flesh from trees.We are the ones who sacked Rome.Fear only feeble old age and death in bed.Don't forget who you are.
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If I get ideas independently of the act of writing, they never really fit. So for me, there's no hanging out, waiting for inspiration.
Janet Fitch
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.
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
My hatred gives me strength.
Janet Fitch
Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair.
Janet Fitch
When I start writing, my unconscious, my conflicts, my thoughts all start to come up. So for me, writing is an exploration. I never know how my stories will end.
Janet Fitch
The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.
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
