Quote

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.

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
Wish
Fourth
Firsts
Broke
First
Held
Firecrackers
Hard
Rules
Oleanders
Never
Understood
Firecracker
Like
Broken
Exploding
Face
Parking
Faces
July

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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 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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Dawn tinted the darkness like water ink.
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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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without my wounds, who was I? My scars were my face, my past was my life.
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His voice was cloves and nightingales, it took us to spice markets in the Celebs, we drifted with him on a houseboat beyond the Coral Sea. We were like cobras following a reed flute.
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here, here is my dark world. you carry it for a change. im out
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She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.
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like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.
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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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She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad.
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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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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've been depressed many times in my life. But under it all I'm an optimist.
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But I knew one more thing. That people w ho denied who they were or where they had been were in the greatest danger.
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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.
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A cliche is everything you've ever heard of.
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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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The cake had a trick candle that wouldn't go out, so I didn't get my wish. Which was just that it would always be like this, that my life could be a party just for me.
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The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.
Janet Fitch