Oleander time, she said. Lovers who kill each other now will blame it on the wind. 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 californiawestmatter 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 sorryhairrunning 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 painjudgingmen 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 darknessselfbelieve 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 actresseslinessaid echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back. Janet Fitch nowhere-to-goechoessound Her hatred glittered irresistibly. I could see it, the jewel, it was sapphire, it was the cold lakes of Norway. Janet Fitch hatredjewelslakes 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 spicesvoicesea I closed my eyes to watch tiny dancers like jeweled birds cross the dark screen of my eyelids. Janet Fitch dancereyedark 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 hairnightwatches 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 queenseyemother I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand. Janet Fitch pottersclayhands A fish has no concept of water. Janet Fitch fishesconceptswater How many people ask you to come share their life? Janet Fitch askssharepeople 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 bedmomchildren 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 flowerbeachart 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 rocksseablue 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 magiclonelygiving like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free. Janet Fitch humiliatedclasskids purification in fire. public cremation Janet Fitch cremationpurificationfire
