Quote

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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Janet Fitch
Age: 68
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Wasn
Oleanders
Stand
Fullness
Suffering
Awe
Care
Vast
Human
Survival
Humans
Capacity
Thing
Hold
Much
Question

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.
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Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.
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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?
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To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
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without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.
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I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds.
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The word rattled in my head like rocks in an oatmeal box.
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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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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.
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She should think about her own soul, what she was going to do with this funky tattered pond dank item. Dark and stained, a ruined thing.
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Memory is the fourth dimension to any landscape.
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echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
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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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I took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages... and fell into it as into a pool during dry season.
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her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth
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A cliche is everything you've ever heard of.
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I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.
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What was beauty unless you intended to use it, like a hammer, or a key? It was just something for other people to use and admire, or envy, despise. To nail their dreams onto like a picture hanger on a blank wall. And so many girls saying, use me, dream me.
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Whenever she thought she could not feel more alone, the universe peeled back another layer of darkness.
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What happened to a dream without a dreamer?
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