Quote

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.

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
Even
Going
Explore
Unconscious
Usually
Fiction
Issues
Use
Writing

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy.
Janet Fitch
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Memory is the fourth dimension to any landscape.
Janet Fitch
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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
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Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.
Janet Fitch
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A cliche is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.
Janet Fitch
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A cliché is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.
Janet Fitch
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A cliche is everything you've ever heard of.
Janet Fitch
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We don't have a unitary society anymore, you know it's very fragmented. I look up and down my block in Silverlake and there is a different universe in every house.
Janet Fitch
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echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
Janet Fitch
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And if there is no god? You act as if there is, and it's the same thing.
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright.
Janet Fitch
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What is real is always worth it.
Janet Fitch
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We read so that we can be moved by a new way of looking at things.
Janet Fitch
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I understood why she did it. At that moment I knew why people tagged graffiti on the walls of neat little houses and scratched the paint on new cars and beat up well-tended children. It was only natural to want to destroy something you could never have.
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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Her hatred glittered irresistibly. I could see it, the jewel, it was sapphire, it was the cold lakes of Norway.
Janet Fitch
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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?
Janet Fitch