she’s not as pretty as you,” I said “But she’s a simpler girl,” my mother whispered. — Janet Fitch Copy Share 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 Copy Share Image
“Mother prescribing her books like medicines. A good dose of Whitman would set me straight, like castor oil. But at least she… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
“You imagine you can see me, Mother? All you could ever see was your own face in a mirror.” “Who am I,… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I thought how tenuous the links were between mother and children between friends family things you think are eternal. Everything could be… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged,… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I imagined my soul taking in these words like silicated water in the Petrified Forest, turning my wood to patterned agate. I… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
They wanted the real mother, the blood mother, the great womb, mother of fierce compassion, a woman large enough to hold all… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
Who was I, really? I was the sole occupant of my mother's totalitarian state, my own personal history rewritten to fit the… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. Only… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
“They wanted the real mother, the blood mother, the great womb, mother of fierce compassion, a woman large enough to hold all… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I watched her for a long time, memorizing her shoulders, her long-legged gait. This was how girls left. They packed up their… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
“The expression in her eyes was bitter as nightshade. 'You ask me about regret? Let me tell you a few things about… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I took my mother's knife and played johnny johnny johnny on the playhouse floor. I was drunk, stabbed myself every few throws.… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
The decor bowled me over. Everywhere I looked, there was something more to see. Botanical prints, a cross section of pomegranates, a… — Janet Fitch Copy Share 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… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
I love Derrick Brown for the surprise of one word waking up next to another. One moment tender, funny or romantic, the next, visceral,… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“That fucking crow-bodied thing had won. How gleeful it was now. All because he'd wanted to live, forget genius and destiny, and simply be… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
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… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
When most people looked at Josie Tyrell, they only saw a certain collection of bones, a selection of forms filling space. But Michael saw… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“They can't touch us. We're the Vikings. We go into battle without armor for the flush and the blood of it.” — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“But I knew one more thing. That people who denied who they were or where they had been were in the greatest danger.” — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“To dare to see is to steal fire from the Gods. This is mankind's destiny, the engine which fuels us as a race. Three… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
This is what happens when you fall in love. You're looking at a natural disaster. — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“If I were a poet, that’s what I’d write about. People who worked in the middle of the night. Men who loaded trains, emergency… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“what was the point in creating something that was so futile and so precious? everything beautiful was like that. a little bit of the… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
“We received our coloring from Norsemen. Hairy savages who hacked their gods to pieces and hung the flesh from trees. We are the ones… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
¨Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness.… — Janet Fitch Copy Share
I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, men who made you love them then changed their minds. — Janet Fitch Copy Share
