“Just make sure nothing is wasted. Take notes. Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your… — Janet Fitch Art Copy Share Image
Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of… — Janet Fitch Barnacles Copy Share Image
It's their skins I'm peeling," she said. "The skins of the insipid scribblers, which I graft to the page, creating monsters of… — Janet Fitch Creating Copy Share Image
I took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages... and fell into it as into a pool during dry… — Janet Fitch Dry Copy Share Image
Panic was the worst thing. When you panicked, you couldn't see possibilities. Then came despair. — Janet Fitch Anxiety Copy Share Image
She would buy magic every day of the week. Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you… — Janet Fitch Days of the week Copy Share Image
“But then I realized, they didn't mean their own mothers. Not those weak women, those victims. Drug addicts, shopaholics, cookie bakers. They… — Janet Fitch Drug addict Copy Share Image
Women always put men first. That's how everything got so screwed up. — Janet Fitch Firsts Copy Share Image
“Why does each man kill the thing he loves?...you killed it by accident. Thinking you were doing something else. It was a… — 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 Mother 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 Daggers Copy Share Image
How can I shed tears for a man I should never have allowed to touch me in any way? — Janet Fitch Men Copy Share Image
“In Berlin, you had to wrestle with the past, you had to build on the ruins, inside them. It wasn’t like America,… — janet fitch Empty canvas Copy Share Image
“Who am I? I am who I say I am and tomorrow someone else entirely. You are too nostalgic, you want memory… — Janet Fitch Artist Copy Share Image
“I could see the two of us in the round mirror on the wall, our long hair down, our blue eyes. Norsewomen.… — Janet Fitch Long hair Copy Share Image
Don't turn over the rocks if you don't want to see the pale creatures who live under them. — Janet Fitch Creatures Copy Share Image
The writer is both a sadist and a masochist. We create people we love, and then we torture them. The more we… — Janet Fitch Along Copy Share Image
I wanted to tell her not to entertain despair like this. Despaire wasn't a guest, you didn't play its favorite music, find… — Janet Fitch Chairs 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 Books 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 Achieve Copy Share Image
“This ragged heart," she said, pulling at her kimono. "I should rip it out and bury it for compost.” — Janet Fitch Copy Share Image
After all the fears, the warnings, after all, a woman's mistakes are different from a girl's. They are written by fire on… — Janet Fitch Different Copy Share Image
