Life should always be like this. ... Like lingering over a good meal. Janet Fitch More Quotes by Janet Fitch More Quotes From Janet Fitch No matter where I was, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California. Janet Fitch california west matter Death like a lover, caressing him, promising him peace, running its fingers through his hair, its tongue in his ear. She put her own two fingers in her mouth. Im so sorry. And pulled the trigger Janet Fitch sorry hair running In a train...smash. In his arm her last...breath.' He had loved her. But he hated himself more. Such suffering, so much pain. And he thought it made him hateful. As if suffering was shameful, disgusting, as if pain were a crime. Who can judge another man's suffering? Janet Fitch pain judging men Darkness coiled between what he wanted them to believe and the self he despised. It only made him more alone. How could you save someone when he didn't let you kno him? What a waste. The beauty he murdered in this place. He could never see what he had, only what he failed to achieve. Janet Fitch darkness self believe she was such a bad actress. she never said her lines rite, it was something perverse in her nature. and wat was her line anyway? Janet Fitch actresses lines said echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back. Janet Fitch nowhere-to-go echoes sound Her hatred glittered irresistibly. I could see it, the jewel, it was sapphire, it was the cold lakes of Norway. Janet Fitch hatred jewels lakes 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 spices voice sea I closed my eyes to watch tiny dancers like jeweled birds cross the dark screen of my eyelids. Janet Fitch dancer eye dark The night crackled ... Everything had turned to static electricity in the heat. I combed my hair to watch the sparks fly from the ends. Janet Fitch hair night watches I thought of my mother as Queen Christina, cool and sad, eyes trained on some distant horizon. That was where she belonged, in furs and palaces of rare treasures, fireplaces large enough to roast a reindeer, ships of Swedish maple. Janet Fitch queens eye mother I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand. Janet Fitch potters clay hands A fish has no concept of water. Janet Fitch fishes concepts water How many people ask you to come share their life? Janet Fitch asks share people I felt suddenly cruel, like I´d told dmall children there was no tooth fairy, that it was just their Mom sneaking into their room after they went to bed. Janet Fitch bed mom children It was her first book, an indigo cover with a silver moonflower, an art nouveau flower, I traced my finger along the silver line like smoke, whiplash curves. ... I touched the pages her hands touched, I pressed them to my lips, the soft thick old paper, yellow now, fragile as skin. I stuck my nose between the bindings and smelled all the readings she had given, the smell of unfiltered cigarettes and the espresso machine, beaches and incense and whispered words in the night. I could hear her voice rising from the pages. The cover curled outward like sails. Janet Fitch flower beach art Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins. Janet Fitch rocks sea blue She would buy magic every day of the week. Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you whatever you want. Janet Fitch magic lonely giving like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free. Janet Fitch humiliated class kids purification in fire. public cremation Janet Fitch cremation purification fire
