Janet Fitch
Janet Fitch
Janet Fitch is most famously known as the author of the Oprah's Book Club novel White Oleander, which became a film in 2002. She is a graduate of Reed College, located in Portland, Oregon...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth9 November 1955
CountryUnited States of America
beautiful way needs
A person didn’t need to be beautiful, they just needed to be loved. But I couldn’t help wanting it. If that was the way I could be loved, to be beautiful, I’d take it
names tears twenties
What can she possibly teach you, twenty seven names for tears?
hate giving hatred
My hatred gives me strength.
coins too-much language
A cliche is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.
handwriting computer terrible
As a person with terrible handwriting, I love the computer. I've waited all my life for the computer.
artist want what-you-want
As an artist, you can never get what you want. What you do never approaches what you want it to be.
beautiful eye made
To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.
heart passion clothes
So much wanting and longing, clutching, desiring, passion and hatred and terrible need. Here, death was suitable, there was room for it, the grip of life's relentless urges slackened, replaced by this icy simplicity. This wasnt her death. It was his. That was the sad and honest truth. Though it would stay with her, it would be more like a black onyx heart on a silver chain, worn privately, under her clothes, close to her body, all her life. The guilt, the beauty, everything. It wasnt over, it had only begun. Well ok then, Okay.
crowds punk rage
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.
pain relief want
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.
drug answers
They say drugs are not the answer, but really, what is the question?
echoes nowhere-to-go sound
echo, the death of a sound that had nowhere to go but to come back.
kids class humiliated
like a kid kicked out of class. humiliated and free.
fire purification cremation
purification in fire. public cremation