Janet Fitch Quotes About Eyes

Quotes about: Eyes

• To know I was beautiful in his eyes made me beautiful.

  Janet Fitch

  Beautiful, Eye, Made

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.51, Hachette UK

• That was the thing about words, they were clear and specific-chair, eye, stone- but when you talked about feelings, words were too stiff, they were this and not that, they couldn't include all the meanings. In defining, they always left something out.

  Janet Fitch

  Eye, Feelings, Stones

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.185, Hachette UK

• You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem.

  Janet Fitch

  Love, Beautiful, Eye

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.61, Hachette UK

• I closed my eyes to watch tiny dancers like jeweled birds cross the dark screen of my eyelids.

  Janet Fitch

  Eye, Dark, Dancer

• How could anybody confuse truth with beauty, I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with sunken eyes, bony or scarred, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.

  Janet Fitch

  Prayer, Eye, Hair

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.222, Hachette UK

• When most people looked at Josie Tyrell, they only saw a certain collection of bones, a selection of forms filling space. But Michael saw past the mouth and the eyes, the architecture of the body, her fleshly masquerade. Other boys were happy enough to enjoy the show, they just wanted to be entertained in the body's shadow theater. But Michael had to come backstage. He went down into the mines, into the dark, and brought up the gold, your new self, a better self. But what good was it if he was just going to leave her behind?

  Janet Fitch

  Eye, Dark, Boys

• 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

  Mother, Queens, Eye

  Janet Fitch (2002). “White Oleander”, Large Print Press

• Beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.

  Janet Fitch

  Prayer, Eye, Orange

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.222, Hachette UK

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