Quote

When I start writing, my unconscious, my conflicts, my thoughts all start to come up. So for me, writing is an exploration. I never know how my stories will end.

Janet Fitch

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Janet Fitch
Age: 68
Born: 1955
Born: November 9
Author
Journalist
Novelist
University Teacher
Writer
LA
California
Janet Elizabeth Fitch
Stories
Come
Conflicts
Writing
Exploration
Never
Unconscious
Conflict
Thoughts
Start
Ends

More quotes by Janet Fitch

Image
I wish my life could be like that, knotted up so that even if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart.
Janet Fitch
Image
Dawn tinted the darkness like water ink.
Janet Fitch
Image
The sound of her laughter was sticky as sap, the smell of night-blooming jasmine soft as a milk bath.
Janet Fitch
Image
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
Image
Her hatred glittered irresistibly. I could see it, the jewel, it was sapphire, it was the cold lakes of Norway.
Janet Fitch
Image
purification in fire. public cremation
Janet Fitch
Image
The nearest I'd come to feeling anything like God was the plan blue cloudless sky and a certain silence, but how do you pray to that?
Janet Fitch
Image
At every moment, each instrument knew what to play. Its little bit. But none could see the whole thing like this, all at once, only its own part. Just like life. Each person was like a line of music, but nobody knew what the symphony sounded like. Only the conductor had the whole score.
Janet Fitch
Image
I was always mortified.Didn't they know they were tying thier mothers to the ground? Weren't chains ashamed of their prisoners?
Janet Fitch
Image
He hated crowds, never liked punk. He couldn't handle the nakedness of the rage -his own so sophisticated and finely tuned. He could never see the similarity between himself and Donnie Draino screaming into a mic.
Janet Fitch
Image
One can bear anything. The pain we cannot bear will kill us outright.
Janet Fitch
Image
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.
Janet Fitch
Image
echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
Janet Fitch
Image
Never apologize. Never explain.
Janet Fitch
Image
Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.
Janet Fitch
Image
Don't hoard the past. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge.
Janet Fitch
Image
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.
Janet Fitch
Image
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
Image
In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show.
Janet Fitch
Image
What happened to a dream without a dreamer?
Janet Fitch