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: 69
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Suffering
Awe
Care
Vast
Human
Survival
Humans
Capacity
Thing
Hold
Much
Question
Wasn
Oleanders
Stand
Fullness

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
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And if there is no god? You act as if there is, and it's the same thing.
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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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I couldn't imagine owning beauty like my mothers. I wouldn't dare.
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A womans mistakes are different from a girls
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I was always mortified.Didn't they know they were tying thier mothers to the ground? Weren't chains ashamed of their prisoners?
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Love could never bloom in a concrete block room.
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It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have.
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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 sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.
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purification in fire. public cremation
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My house is modern, but I like my writing room to be old fashioned. I write on a little wooden secretary desk.
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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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She was a beautiful woman dragging a crippled foot and I was that foot. I was bricks sewn into the hem of her clothes, I was a steel dress
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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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My hatred gives me strength.
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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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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.
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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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Never apologize. Never explain.
Janet Fitch