Janet Fitch Quotes

Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.

If I come back to you now, can we be what we were before life’s uncertain rhythms tore us so far apart? If I return today, will your arms gather me in, or will I be wrenched away, snatched by riptide I have no power to resist? If I find my way to you, one man standing in a crowd, will I even know who you are?

I think living with the absence of someone we love is like living in front of a mountain from which a person - a speck in the distance, on some distance ridge - is perpetually waving.

I knew that our time together was almost over, I asked her if she liked sports, she asked me if I liked chess, I asked her if she liked fallen trees, she went home with her father, the center of me followed her, but I was left with the shell of me, I needed to see her again, I couldn't explain my need to myself, and that's why it was such a beautiful need, there's nothing wrong with not understanding yourself.

Of course you want someone special to love you. A majority of the people who write to me inquire about how they can get the same thing... Unique as every letter is, the point each writer reaches is the same: I want love and I'm afraid I'll never get it. It's hard to answer those letters because I'm an advice columnist, not a fortune-teller. I have words instead of a crystal ball. I can't say when you'll get love or how you'll find it or even promise that you will. I can only say you are worthy of it and that it's never too much to ask for it.

The worst thing you can do if you miss or need someone is let them know it.

She fell asleep, lying there, her hand clasping his. Her last awareness, before she surrendered the responsibility of consciousness, was the sense of an enormous void, the void of a city and of a continent, where she would never be able to find the man whom she had no right to seek.

I wanted more of her, & no matter what happened between us, I already knew I’d never forget anything about her. As crazy as it sounded, she was becoming part of me, & I was already dreading the fact that we wouldn’t be able to spend the day together tomorrow. Or the day after, or the day after that. Maybe, I told myself, we could beat the odds

Help me to withstand your beauty as it stands out of reach. Give me the capacity to forget ever having felt your touch.

What I felt is the same kind of love I felt between Waylon and his audience. And that's what I miss.

Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.

All flowers in time bend towards the sun, I know you say there's no one for you, But here is one.

It's true what they say: 'You don't appreciate what you've got until it's gone.' I miss love. I miss being looked after.

I miss Betty madly. I loved her. Whenever people talk about her, I get really nostalgic. There are parts of her still with me; I played her for four years and, of course, the lines get blurred.

I think we've all been kind of... everyone's been hurt, everyone's felt loss, everyone has exultation, everyone has a need to be loved, or to have lost love, so when you play a character, you're pulling out those little threads and turning them up a bit.

I think it is very natural to want to be partnered, but you never know. you read about mature love affairs in the press, and it gives you hope. You think: 'Well, it's not impossible.'

An exile reads change the way he reads time, memory, self, love, fear, beauty: in the key of loss.

There's a sadness about love, a melancholy and a sadness about beauty. It's just part of the human experience of living on this planet.

Ah, were she pitiful as she is fair,Or but as mild as she is seeming so,Then were my hopes greater than my despair,Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.

For women who do not love us, as for the "disappeared", knowing that we no longer have any hope does not prevent us form continuing to wait. We live on our guard, on watch; women whose son has gone asea on a dangerous exploration imagine at any minute, although it has long been certain that he has perished, that he will enter, miraculously saved, and healthy.

A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks: “Aren’t you tired of waiting?” “Yes,” answers the rose, “but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.

Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.

I fear it, for her sake. It would mean that she too is a wanderer now, and that is a fate for human beings, not for unicorns. But I hope, of course I hope.

I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone.

I was praying that you and me might end up together. It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert, but I'm holding you closer than most, 'cause you are my heaven.