Francesca Lia Block Quotes

Between the fear that something would happen and the hope that still it wouldn't, there is much more space than one thinks. On that narrow, hard, bare and dark space a lot of us spend their lives.

What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come

I have always found it difficult to wait for things - whether it was to see my father or sailor brother, Alan, again after their long sea trips, or the chance of a better job, or even new curtains.

Waiting for the end, boys, waiting for the end.

Do we not all spend the greater part of our lives under the shadow of an event that has not yet come to pass?

I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of.

This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.

I wait for options, hoping that a space for a pass will appear at the last moment.

I said, I prefer the ocean when it's gray. Or not really gray. A pale, in-between color. It reminds me of waiting for something good to happen.

If one hesitates in his path, let him not proceed. Let him respect his doubts, for doubts, too, may have some divinity in them.

No, what I felt was the torment of waiting, stuck between the end of one sentence and the beginning of the next which might or might not bring a hail storm, plane crash, poetic justice, or a miraculous reversal.

Can you imagine how it is, to want to be neither inside nor outside, to want to be nowhere and disappear?

Sometimes he thinks that if he could only trace the path of his life carefully enough, everything would become clear. The ways that he screwed up would make sense. He closes his eyes tightly. His life wasn't always a mistake, he thinks, and he breathes uncertainly for awhile, trying to find a pathway into unconsciousness, into sleep.

Every day brings a ship, Every ship brings a word; Well for those who have no fear, Looking seaward well assured That the word the vessel brings Is the word they wish to hear.

If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing.

Sometimes I believe...Sometimes I really do believe.

We hope vaguely but dread precisely.

I will never fully understand; that is the nature of such creatures. Or is this Inner Truth now, this that is happening to me? I will wait. I will see. Which it is. Perhaps it is both.

How could you tell if your instincts were just hope in disguise, and if your hope was really desperation parading as possibility?

You know there are moments such as these when time stands still and all you do is hold your breath and hope it will wait for you.

I wasn’t having second thoughts, but I was having thoughts.

The suspense is terrible. I hope it'll last.

Sometimes she did not know what she feared, what she desired: whether she feared or desired what had been or what would be, and precisely what she desired, she did not know.