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Writing mirrors the interior self. You know, any book is like the perfect blueprint of the psyche of the author.

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
Interiors
Author
Mirrors
Perfect
Book
Blueprint
Self
Blueprints
Writing
Psyche
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Interior

More quotes by Janet Fitch

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Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal.
Janet Fitch
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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
Janet Fitch
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I almost said, you're not broken, you're just going through something. But i couldn't. She knew. There was something terribly wrong with her, all the way inside. She was like a big diamond with a dead spot in the middle. I was supposed to breathe life into that dead spot, but it hadn't worked.
Janet Fitch
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And I realized as I walked through the neighborhood how each house could contain a completely different reality. In a single block, there could be fifty seperate worlds. Nobody ever really knew what was going on just next door.
Janet Fitch
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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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Women always put men first. That's how everything got so screwed up.
Janet Fitch
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Take my advice. Stay away from all broken people.
Janet Fitch
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Inside every human being, there is unlimited time and space.
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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Don't hoard the past. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge.
Janet Fitch
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Pick a better verb. Most people use twenty verbs to describe everything from a run in their stocking to the explosion of an A-bomb.
Janet Fitch
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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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Beauty was deceptive. I would rather wear my pain, my ugliness. I was torn and stitched. I was a strip mine, and they would just have to look. I hoped I made them sick. I hoped they saw me in their dreams.
Janet Fitch
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What is real is always worth it.
Janet Fitch
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I felt suddenly cruel, like I´d told dmall children there was no tooth fairy, that it was just their Mom sneaking into their room after they went to bed.
Janet Fitch
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Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.
Janet Fitch
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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.
Janet Fitch
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That kind of tenderness couldn't be permitted to last. You only got a taste, enough to know what perfection meant, and then you paid for it the rest of your life. Like the guy chained to a rock, who stole fire. The gods made an eagle eat his liver for all eternity. You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.
Janet Fitch
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There is no God, there is only what you want.
Janet Fitch
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I've been depressed many times in my life. But under it all I'm an optimist.
Janet Fitch