Quote

And I realized as I walked through the neighborhood how each house could contain a completely different reality. In a single block, there could be fifty seperate worlds. Nobody ever really knew what was going on just next door.

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
House
Block
Next
Realized
Reality
Door
Ever
Completely
Contain
Different
Doors
Walked
Going
Nobody
Worlds
Really
Single
Neighborhood
World
Knew
Fifty

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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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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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She would be half a planet away, floating in a turquoise sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco guitar.
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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.
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I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children between friends family things you think are eternal. Everything could be lost more easily than anyone could imagine.
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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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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
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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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I emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.
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like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.
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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.
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I decided that if I was never going to sell anything as long as I lived, I might as well do what I want to do 'cause then at least I would've done what I wanted to do in life. What's that worth?
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Depression, suffering and anger are all part of being human.
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I felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
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Never apologize. Never explain.
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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.
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We read so that we can be moved by a new way of looking at things.
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The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.
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The word rattled in my head like rocks in an oatmeal box.
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Writing mirrors the interior self. You know, any book is like the perfect blueprint of the psyche of the author.
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