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Although she was giddy with exhaustion, sleep was a lover who refused to be touched.

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
Touched
Lovers
Although
Sleep
Giddy
Exhaustion
Refused
Lover

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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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She would buy magic every day of the week. Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you whatever you want.
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How could anybody confuse truth with beauty, I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with sunken eyes, bony or scarred, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.
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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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To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
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I couldn't imagine owning beauty like my mothers. I wouldn't dare.
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I wondered where he was now whether I would ever hear him again. Whether someone would love him, someday show him what beauty mean't.
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We read so that we can be moved by a new way of looking at things.
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Wasn't that the way it always was? You didn't know, you couldn't tell, you just let it happen... Perhaps they didn't know themselves. Sometimes the line was very fine.
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I could hear the icy winds of Sweden, but he didn't seem to feel the chill.
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They dream of men with gentle hands, eloquent with tenderness, fingers that brushed along a cheek, that outlined open lips in the lovers' braille. Hands that sculpted sweetness from sullen flesh, that traced breast and ignited hips, opening, kneading. Flesh becomes bread in the heat of those hands, braided and rising.
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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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We strive for beauty and balance, the sensual over the sentimental.
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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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she’s not as pretty as you,” I said “But she’s a simpler girl,” my mother whispered.
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One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright.
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purification in fire. public cremation
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What happened to a dream without a dreamer?
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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
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Dawn tinted the darkness like water ink.
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