Quotes from Francesca Lia Block

People worry so much. Just enjoy your body. That you can love. And you're alive.

The lesson of this life is not for me to touch you again. It is to accept who I am now and not feel shame.

If you were sad about something that hadn't happened yet you couldn't be disappointed.

The circus tent was flowing pale in the rain like a fleshy flower lit from within. It seemed to bloom in the downpour. Drops of rain caught on Rafe's eyelashes, blinding him as the circus light struck them. He groped for the flap, that slit in the fabric that would reveal her to him. She was on the rope again, her skirt flashing with tiny mirrors, hair braided with petals. He looked up at her, dizzy with it, seeing her face framed in the parasol. There were bluish shadows around her eyes.

Once she was standing by her locker and her puka shells broke and scattered and she made a joke about it but he could tell she was upset. He wanted to buy her some more. He wanted to give her a million strands of little nesting polished shells, and tropical flowers and ice creams and lemonades and a pale blue surfboard to teach her to surf on and anything else she wanted. Instead he let his checkered Vans step on one of the rolling shells and crush it.

The fairy who was not old, not young, who was red roses, white snowfall, who was blind and saw everything, who sent stories resounding through the universe said, You much reach inside yourself where I live like a story, not old, not young, laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.

Each of us has a family tree full of stories inside of us, Dirk thought. Each of us has a story blossoming out of us.

But death is stronger than that and when you cover your eyes you are the one who can't see the dark. The dark still sees you.

Okay. I wish for world peace," Weetzie said. "I am sorry," the genie said. "I cant grant that wish. Its out of my league." "Then I wish for an infinite number of wishes!" Those people on fairy tales never thought of that. "People in fairy tales wish for that all the time," the genie said. "They arent stupid. It just isnt in the records because I cant grant that type of wish.

I will go to campus alone dressed in antique silk slips and beat-up cowboy boots and gypsy beads, and I will study poetry. I will sit on the edge of the fountain in the plaza and write.

Same Bat time, same Bat place.

I thought he had taken my soul, said Rev. I thought he took mine, too. But no one can. It's just been sleeping.

A kiss about apple pie à la mode with the vanilla creaminess melting in the pie heat. A kiss about chocolate, when you haven't eaten chocolate in a year. A kiss about palm trees speeding by, trailing pink clouds when you drive down the Strip sizzling with champagne. A kiss about spotlights fanning the sky and the swollen sea spilling like tears all over your legs.

What are you going to do if you find art, Pen? You going to steal some and put it in the van? I'm going to remember. When there was art.

When someone so young and lovely vanishes they leave a cutout in the atmosphere; they don't fade. They leave a place for the sun rays to cut through and burn us, melt all the important ice to floods.

You try to decide if you should take this as a message of endings. Or beginnings.

I said I was an English major, that I wanted to write someday, that I read the way other people ate chocolate.

I was starting to learn how to forget the things that made me sad. It was like a charm you followed step-by-step, collecting and blending the ingredients, placing everything in its proper place. It was the magic of forgetting.

They knew, though, she would not suffer as they had suffered. She was perfect. They were scarred.

Some people think you begin to grow up when you stop trying to figure out who you are.

We no longer believe in fairy tales. But we will learn to believe in monsters.

We are all insane. But how do you distinguish sanity from insanity, how do you diagnose abnormality in this new world?

The world isn't necessarily going to explode. There will just be vast change. There is hope. It is in the rain forests, the healing plants from there, and in sex and the children who are being born. They have different strains of DNA. They aren't really humans. So they will make the difference.

I saw my own blood and I thought, how could I live in a world where this exists- where love can become death?