Only peons made excusses for themselves she taught me. Never apologize, never explain. — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
Beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
Beauty was deceptive. I would rather wear my pain, my ugliness. I was torn and stitched. I was a strip mine, and… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
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 Image
Darkness coiled between what he wanted them to believe and the self he despised. It only made him more alone. How could… — 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,… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
...I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, their smell of beer or fifteen-year-old whiskey. Men who didn't come… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
That kind of tenderness couldn't be permitted to last. You only got a taste, enough to know what perfection meant, and then… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I imagined Kandinsky's mind, spread out all over the world, and then gathered together. Everyone having only a piece of the puzzle.… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
Most people use twenty verbs to describe everything from a run in their stocking to the explosion of an atomic bomb. You… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
I'm always gratified when I check something I've made up and discover that I've gotten it right. How can we imagine something… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
But that was the thing about zero. Its weakness. Even if zero had taken over the entire universe, the biggest fascist of… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
In a train...smash. In his arm her last...breath.' He had loved her. But he hated himself more. Such suffering, so much pain.… — 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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
No matter how unappealing, each of them imagines he is somehow worthy. — Janet Fitch Copy Share 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… — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
This is what happens when you fall in love. You're looking at a natural disaster. — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
