Janet Fitch Quotes About Hatred

We have collected for you the TOP of Janet Fitch's best quotes about Hatred! Here are collected all the quotes about Hatred starting from the birthday of the Author – November 9, 1955! We hope you will be inspired to new achievements with our constantly updated collection of quotes. At the moment, this page contains 5 sayings of Janet Fitch about Hatred. We will be happy if you share our collection of quotes with your friends on social networks!
  • 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.

  • I wondered why it had to be so poisonous. Oleanders could live through anything, they could stand heat, drought, neglect, and put out thousands of waxy blooms. So what did they need poison for? Couldn't they just be bitter? They weren't like rattlesnakes, they didn't even eat what they killed. The way she boiled it down, distilled it, like her hatred. Maybe it was a poison in the soil, something about L.A., the hatred, the callousness, something we didn't want to think about, that the plant concentrated in its tissues. Maybe it wasn't a source of poison, but just another victim.

  • My hatred gives me strength.

    Janet Fitch (2002). “White Oleander”, Large Print Press
  • Isn't it funny.I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than i ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.

  • Her hatred glittered irresistibly. I could see it, the jewel, it was sapphire, it was the cold lakes of Norway.

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