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Love could never bloom in a concrete block room.

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
Room
Rooms
Never
Love
Bloom
Concrete
Block

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What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?
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Pick a better verb. Most people use twenty verbs to describe everything from a run in their stocking to the explosion of an A-bomb.
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How can I shed tears for a man I should never have allowed to touch me in any way?
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I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple.
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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?
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purification in fire. public cremation
Janet Fitch
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Never apologize. Never explain.
Janet Fitch
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I could hear the icy winds of Sweden, but he didn't seem to feel the chill.
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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We read so that we can be moved by a new way of looking at things.
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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How vast was a human being's capacity for suffering. The only thing you could do was stand in awe of it. It wasn't a question of survival at all. It was the fullness of it, how much could you hold, how much could you care.
Janet Fitch
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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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I closed my eyes to watch tiny dancers like jeweled birds cross the dark screen of my eyelids.
Janet Fitch
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Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.
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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I felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
Janet Fitch
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history only existed in the human mind, subject to endless revision. 'each man kills the thing he loves'-Oscar Wilde. You kill it before it kills you, but he was wrong. you killed it by accident. thinking you were doing something else. shattering, when all you wanted to do was keep it safe.
Janet Fitch
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...The men eyed her with the automatic mix of curiosity, lust, and aesthetic judgment they always gave young women, subject to object, the way you'd stare at an animal. She pretended not to notice. To remind them she was a person was too much effort. Objects bore no guilt.
Janet Fitch
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We strive for beauty and balance, the sensual over the sentimental.
Janet Fitch