Quote

I imagined my soul taking in these words like silicated water in the Petrified Forest, turning my wood to patterned agate. I liked it when my mother shaped me this way. I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand.

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
Feel
Hand
Wood
Must
Happy
Forest
Feels
Water
Imagined
Patterned
Way
Words
Forests
Petrified
Good
Mother
Turning
Potter
Like
Hands
Woods
Potters
Thought
Liked
Shaped
Soul
Taking
Clay

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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Do you ever want to go home?' I asked Paul. He brushed an ash from my face. 'It's the century of the displaced person,' he said. 'You can never go home.
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She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.
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If I get ideas independently of the act of writing, they never really fit. So for me, there's no hanging out, waiting for inspiration.
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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've been depressed many times in my life. But under it all I'm an optimist.
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Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.
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I wandered through the stacks, running my hands along the spines of the books on the shelves, they reminded me of cultured or opinionated guests at a wonderful party, whispering to each other.
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Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay.
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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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I'm a fish swimming by...catch me if you want me.
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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 felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
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Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.
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In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show.
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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
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She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad.
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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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Take my advice. Stay away from all broken people.
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she’s not as pretty as you,” I said “But she’s a simpler girl,” my mother whispered.
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She’s never where she is,' I said. 'She’s only inside her head.
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