Quote

She kissed me on the mouth. Her mouth tasted like iced coffee and cardamom, and I was overwhelmed by the taste, her hot skin and the smell of unwashed hair. I was confused, but not unwilling. I would have let her do anything to me.

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
Coffee
Unwilling
Smell
Kissed
Mouths
Overwhelmed
Taste
Confused
Hair
Hot
Anything
Skin
Unwashed
Would
Skins
Iced
Like
Mouth
Tasted

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I couldn't imagine owning beauty like my mothers. I wouldn't dare.
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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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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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Death like a lover, caressing him, promising him peace, running its fingers through his hair, its tongue in his ear. She put her own two fingers in her mouth. Im so sorry. And pulled the trigger
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A novel is like a dream in which everyone is you. They’re all parts of yourself.
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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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She was not used to being cruel, but he had taught her how.
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We read so that we can be moved by a new way of looking at things.
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We have no home, she told me. I am your home.
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There is no God, there is only what you want.
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Appealing to the five senses is the feature that will always set writing apart from the visual media. A good writer will tell us what the world smells like, what the textures are, what the sounds are, what the light looks like, what the weather is.
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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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It's all I ever really wanted, that revelation. The possibility of fixed stars.
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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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Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair.
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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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How can I shed tears for a man I should never have allowed to touch me in any way?
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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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Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins.
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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
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