Quote

this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces

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
Like
Stranger
Surface
Draws
Paper
Pieces
Surfaces
Wonderful
Strangers
Bigs
Blank
Thing
Draw

More quotes by 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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without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.
Janet Fitch
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We don't have a unitary society anymore, you know it's very fragmented. I look up and down my block in Silverlake and there is a different universe in every house.
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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At every moment, each instrument knew what to play. Its little bit. But none could see the whole thing like this, all at once, only its own part. Just like life. Each person was like a line of music, but nobody knew what the symphony sounded like. Only the conductor had the whole score.
Janet Fitch
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Let me tell you a few things about regret...There is no end to it. You cannot find the beginning of the chain that brought us from there to here. Should you regret the whole chain, and the air in between, or each link separately as if you could uncouple them? Do you regret the beginning which ended so badly, or just the ending itself?
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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Women always put men first. That's how everything got so screwed up.
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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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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A cliche is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.
Janet Fitch
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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
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You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.
Janet Fitch
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How easy I was. Like a limpet I attached myself to anything, anyone who showed me the least attention.
Janet Fitch
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My hatred gives me strength.
Janet Fitch
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echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
Janet Fitch
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What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?
Janet Fitch
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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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How could anybody confuse truth with beauty, I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with sunken eyes, bony or scarred, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While 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
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Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.
Janet Fitch