Explore Quotes by Janet Fitch

Dawn tinted the darkness like water ink.

Love could never bloom in a concrete block room.

These people picked you up and played with you and then left you lying in the rain

Their love as a dragonfly, skimming over echo park, stoppin to visit the lotus. Eating dreams and drinking blue sky.

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.

You paid for every second of beauty you managed to steal.

this was the wonderful thing about strangers. they were big blank pieces of paper, you could draw watever you like on their impresionable surfaces

She should think about her own soul, what she was going to do with this funky tattered pond dank item. Dark and stained, a ruined thing.

It wasn't awful to be dead. The stillness would almost be a relief. She wouldn't want pain, she wouldn't want to be wounded or mutilated. She could never shoot herself or jump off a building. But being dead wasn't unthinkable.

history only existed in the human mind, subject to endless revision. 'each man kills the thing he loves'-Oscar Wilde. You kill it before it kills you, but he was wrong. you killed it by accident. thinking you were doing something else. shattering, when all you wanted to do was keep it safe.

her scruffy innoscense to impregnate with his dreams. reason was seductive, it gave the appearance of truth

He hated crowds, never liked punk. He couldn't handle the nakedness of the rage -his own so sophisticated and finely tuned. He could never see the similarity between himself and Donnie Draino screaming into a mic.

They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?

at least if you were ignorant you could do wat you wanted. you had no idea wat had been acheived in the past. you were free instead of chewed at by bleeding impotence, dissolved away like a pearl in acid

echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.

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?

purification in fire. public cremation

like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.

here, here is my dark world. you carry it for a change. im out

Just because a poet said something didn’t mean it was true, only that it sounded good.

It's all I ever really wanted, that revelation. The possibility of fixed stars.