She pushed the gardener away and called for them. In her sleep she had seen love. It was poisoning. It was possessing. Devouring. Or it was seven pairs of boots climbing up the stairs to find her. — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
Ugster vinyl pumps, Partridge Family records, plastic daisy jewelry, old postcards. . . . It's a magpie Christmas market. — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
Sometimes I wanted to peel away all of my skin and find a different me underneath. — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
The circus tent was flowing pale in the rain like a fleshy flower lit from within. It seemed to bloom in the downpour. Drops… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
I think depression creates in me an urgent need to write, but I also believe that daily stress, and even the positive stress of… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
“It’s hard to remember what you fall in love with. Usually it is an expression in the eyes, an exchange, or a gesture or… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
“Weetzie and My Secret Agent Lover Man and Dirk and Duck and Cherokee and Witch Baby and Slinkster Dog and Go-Go Girl and the… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
“When you look at pain as material it makes all the difference in the world. I thought, the pain that is too big to… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
If Death is your father, you don't ever have to worry about what part of his body the disease will strike next. If Death… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
“My mind is like the valley—this vast barren waste. Car lots. Malls. Tract homes. I know there are other worlds beyond it—of canyons full… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
“And then I cried a flood of tears as if I really were a mermaid who had absorbed too much sea into herself. The… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
“Sylvie wishes the anti-depressants had been around when she was in her early twenties, not only to rescue her from the dark tunnels that… — Francesca Lia Block Copy Share Image
