Fiona Apple Quotes

When you're surrounded by all these people, it can be lonelier than when you're by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone.

Everybody sees me as this sullen and insecure little thing. Those are just the sides of me that I feel necessary to show because no one else seems to be showing them.

Home is where my habits have a habitat

It's calm under the waves in the blue of my oblivion.

You fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun

Be kind to me, or treat me mean I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine

I don't want to give advice to a 19-year-old, because I want a 19-year-old to make mistakes and learn from them. Make mistakes, make mistakes, make mistakes. Just make sure they're your mistakes.

I've gone through stages where I hate my body so much that I won't even wear shorts and a bra in my house because if I pass a mirror, that's the end of my day.

When I was a kid--10, 11, 12, 13--the thing I wanted most in the world was a best friend. I wanted to be important to people; to have people that understood me. I wanted to just be close to somebody. And back then, a thought would go through my head almost constantly: "There's never gonna be a room someplace where there's a group of people sitting around, having fun, hanging out, where one of them goes, 'You know what would be great? We should call Fiona. Yeah, that would be good.' That'll never happen. There's nothing interesting about me." I just felt like I was a sad little boring thing.

I let the beast in too soon I don't know how to live without his hand on my throat. I fight him always and still. Oh, darling it's so sweet. You think you know how crazy, how crazy I am.

I was so self-critical. I still am; but it's not as bad anymore.

Nothing that you do will ever feel good if you let people convince you that you have no choice.

You can live your whole life in your brain and not experience what's around you. You go crazy that way. That's why I have to watch myself when I get isolated for too long.

I'm such an incredibly, stupidly sensitive person that everything that happens to me, I experience it really intensely. I feel everything very deeply. And when you feel things deeply and you think about things a lot and you think about how you feel, you learn a lot about yourself. And when you know yourself, you know life.

How can I ask anyone to love me when all I do is beg to be left alone?

Everybody acts like I'm nuts. I'm not nuts I just want to feel it all.

When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He'll Win the Whole Thing 'Fore He Enters the Ring There's No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might So When You Go Solo, You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and If You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and If You Fall It Won't Matter, Cuz You'll Know That You're Right

The way I feel about music is that there is no right and wrong; only true and false.

I really don't think anything I do is a mistake. It could be if I didn't learn from it.

I only write when I'm angry or sad, so because that's when I just have to write... If I'm having a good time and I'm happy and things are going really well, why would I want to stop what I'm doing to go and write at the piano?

I have a very steadfast tendency to parent myself, to monitor my development into the person I want to be. I try to keep the corruption minimal. And though I advocate learning from my mistakes as much as making mistakes, I also try and make sure my mistakes do not cost other people.

I took off my glasses while you were yelling at me once more than once so as not to see you see me react. Should've put 'em, should've put 'em on again so I could see you see me sincerely yelling back.

Go with yourself.

Cause I don't appreciate People who Don't appreciate

And I could liken you to a lot of things But I always come around 'Cause in the end I'm a sensible girl I know the fiction of the fix

My scars were reflecting the mist in your headlights I looked like a neon zebra, shaking rain off her stripes

I tell you how I feel But you don't care I say tell me the truth But you don't dare You say love is a hell You cannot bear And I say gimme mine Back and then go there For all I care.

Mom says dwelling in your feelings is no way to live, that there will always be something to be upset about and the secret to a happy life is not to let yourself be dragged down into negativity. She doesn’t understand how satisfying sadness can be; hours spent rocking in the hammock with Fiona Apple in my ears make me feel better than happy.

The early cars already are drawing deep breaths past my door. And last night's phrases sick with lack of basis are still writhing on my floor.

I'm a tulip in a cup. I stand no chance of growing up.

I have never been So insulted in all my life I could swallow the seas To wash down all this pride First you run like a fool Just to be at my side And now you run like a fool But you just run to hide.

We are like a wishing well And a bolt of electricity

She doesn’t understand how satisfying sadness can be; hours spent rocking in the hammock with Fiona Apple in my ears make me feel better than happy.

But then the dove of hope began its downward slope And I believed for a moment that my chances Were approaching to be grabbed But as it came down near, so did a weary tear I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag.

But l’m good at being uncomfortable So I can’t stop changing all the time.

he said its all in your head and i said so is everything but he didnt get it

Fiona Apple's album made me more immediately depressed than any other music I remembered hearing.

They know too well the violent hypnosis of those who hope to possess them-- men who can smell the blood on the places where a woman is breaking.

I'm so tired of trying to say things to people and having them not listen. That's probably the reason why a lot of people think that I'm either depressed or sullen or shy because I just simply will not talk to you unless that I think that you're listening to me. I just simply won't. I can't.

Riley made me a tape of her Fiona Apple album.

Container" I was screaming into the canyon At the moment of my death The echo I created Outlasted my last breath My voice it made an avalanche And buried a man I never knew And when he died his widowed bride Met your daddy and they made you [Hook:] 3x I have only one thing to do and that's To be the wave that I am and then Sink back into the ocean Sink back into the o- Sink back into the ocean Sink back into the o- Sink back into the ocean Sink back into the ocean

Loneliness is not abstract and intangible - metaphors about desert islands and mismatched shoes, Edward Hopper's characters staring at windows, Fiona Apple's entire discography. Loneliness is here. It molds our souls, but also our bodies.

You get dragged down to the bottom so many times that it just seems like that’s the safest place to be. Otherwise, people are kicking you down there. You might as well just stay down there and make a home because it’s safer here… It’s no way to live. So I guess the message in the whole record is just: Fetch the fucking bolt cutters and get yourself out of the situation you’re in, whatever it is that you don’t like. Even if you can’t do it physically.

dwelling in your feelings is no way to live, that there will always be something to be upset about and the secret to a happy life is not to let yourself be dragged down into negativity. She doesn’t understand how satisfying sadness can be; hours spent rocking in the hammock with Fiona Apple in my ears make me feel better than happy.

I have only one thing to do and that's be the wave that I am and then sink back into the ocean.

Where his thigh not quite touches mine, it feels like a piping hot knife held against butter.

In the restaurant kitchen, August meant lobsters, blackberries, silver queen corn, and tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes. In honor of the last year of the restaurant, Fiona was creating a different tomato special for each day of the month. The first of August (two hundred and fifty covers on the book, eleven reservation wait list) was a roasted yellow tomato soup. The second of August (two hundred and fifty covers, seven reservation wait list) was tomato pie with a Gruyère crust. On the third of August, Ernie Otemeyer came in with his wife to celebrate his birthday and since Ernie liked food that went with his Bud Light, Fiona made a Sicilian pizza- a thick, doughy crust, a layer of fresh buffalo mozzarella, topped with a voluptuous tomato-basil sauce. One morning when she was working the phone, Adrienne stepped into the kitchen hoping to get a few minutes with Mario, and she found Fiona taking a bite out of red ripe tomato like it was an apple. Fiona held the tomato out. "I'd put this on the menu," she said. "But few would understand.

Paper Bag" I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star To pray on, or wish on, or something like that I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had But then the dove of hope began its downward slope And I believed for a moment that my chances Were approaching to be grabbed But as it came down near, so did a weary tear I thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills 'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb Looking for a little hope Baby said he couldn't stay, wouldn't put his lips to mine, And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope I said, 'Honey, I don't feel so good, don't feel justified Come on put a little love here in my void,' he said 'It's all in your head,' and I said, 'So's everything' But he didn't get it I thought he was a man But he was just a little boy Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills 'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love Hunger hurts, but I want him so bad, oh it kills 'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love Hunger hurts, but I want him so bad, oh it kills Because I know that I'm a mess that he don't wanna clean up I got to fold because these hands are just too shaky to hold Hunger hurts, but starving, it works, when it costs too much to love

Both sisters knew the story well. For the past sixteen years, starting in 1940, someone had been planting pipe bombs around New York City, in subway stations, department stores, theaters, even Grand Central Terminal. The newspapers called the culprit the Big Apple Bomber, and so far, a dozen people had been injured, some seriously. The very first bomb was planted in a toolbox at a Met Power compound on Sixty-Fourth Street, with a note reading Met Power crooks—this is for you. That one hadn’t gone off. But since then, the bomber had expanded his reach and his skill, setting off explosions in well-populated places like the Port Authority and Penn Station, sometimes repeating the same target years later. And now he’d hit the library. Even worse, the madman’s pace was picking up.

Hot Knife" If I'm butter, if I'm butter, If I'm butter, then he's a hot knife, He makes my heart a cinemascope screen Showing the dancing bird of paradise. If I'm butter, if I'm butter, If I'm butter, then he's a hot knife, He makes my heart a cinemascope screen Showing the dancing bird of paradise. He excites me Must be like a genesis of rhythm I get feisty Whenever I'm with him If I'm butter, if I'm butter, If I’m butter, then he's a hot knife, He makes my heart a cinemascope screen Showing the dancing bird of paradise. I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter. If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that He's never gonna need another, never need another. If I'm butter, if I'm butter (I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife) If I’m butter, then he's a hot knife (I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter) He makes my heart a cinemascope screen (If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that) Showing the dancing bird of paradise (He's never gonna need another, never need another) If I'm butter, if I'm butter (I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife) If I’m butter, then he's a hot knife (I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter) He makes my heart a cinemascope screen (If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that) Showing the dancing bird of paradise (He's never gonna need another, never need another) He excites me Must be like the genesis of rhythm I get feisty Whenever I'm with him. If I'm butter, if I'm butter (I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife) If I’m butter, then he's a hot knife (I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter) He makes my heart a cinemascope screen (If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that) Showing the dancing bird of paradise (He's never gonna need another, never need another) If I'm butter, if I'm butter (I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife) If I’m butter, then he's a hot knife (I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter) He makes my heart a cinemascope screen (If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that) Showing the dancing bird of paradise (He's never gonna need another, never need another) I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter. If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that He's never gonna need another, never need another. I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter. If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that He's never gonna need another, never need another. He excites me Must be like the genesis of rhythm I get feisty Whenever I'm with him. [7x] If I'm butter, if I'm butter (I'm a hot knife, I'm a hot knife) If I’m butter, then he's a hot knife (I'm a hot knife, he's a pat of butter) He makes my heart a cinemascope screen (If I get a chance, I'm gonna show him that) Showing the dancing bird of paradise (He's never gonna need another, never need another)

Alison Krauss, Lauryn Hill, Norah Jones. She added vintage Billie Holiday, Nina Simone, Carole King. She rounded it out with some edge: Fiona Apple, Courtney Love, Alanis Morissette.

a sound is still a sound around no one

One night, my husband, Rodney, and I were surfing YouTube videos when we stumbled on a video of a Fiona Apple concert. It was an “aha!” moment for me. I thought: This woman is telling the truth with her body. She’s not what you would typically call a good dancer, she was jerky and unconcerned about looking pretty, but something about her was raw and real. She was moving with her wounds, with her limitations—she was moving truthfully. She wasn’t hiding, and she wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable and expose herself through her voice and movements. Her courage and honesty made her dance mesmerizing and powerful. It penetrated something deep inside me. When you bow to someone and say, “Namaste,” it means, “The deepest part of me acknowledges the deepest part of you.” Fiona Apple’s performance was a Namaste from her body to mine. I want to have the courage to be as honest in my life, my teaching, and in this book as she was in that dance. Yoga can bring you to this kind of truth by helping you to observe, then to let go of, the habits you cling to and the stories you use to protect yourself. As you practice, you become intimate with your body, which many of us spend a lifetime either alienated from or waging war with. Yoga practice can pierce emotional places that most of us guard or avoid. Our bodies are intelligent, more a source of direct truth than our minds, but we rarely listen to the wisdom that’s buried in our beautiful chambers.

Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey A Little Party Never Killed Nobody- Fergie Gangsta- Kehlani You Don’t Own Me- Grace Bonnie and Clyde- Kellie Pickler Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore I Feel a Sin Comin’ On- Pistol Annies Raise Hell- Dorothy Renegade Runaway- Carrie Underwood Black Widow- Iggy Azalea Hard Out Here- Lily Allen Fix- Chris Lane Make Me Wanna Die- Pretty Reckless Natalie- Bruno Mars Grenade- Bruno Mars Criminal- Fiona Apple Hunter- Ella Fence Gunpowder & Lead- Miranda Lambert Addicted to Love- Florence & The Machine Titanium- David Guetta & Sia Talking Body- Tove Lo Tornado- Little Big Town Fastest Girl in Town- Miranda Lambert Just Tonight- The Pretty Reckless Ready Set Roll- Chase Rice Till I Collapse- Eminem Remember the Name- Fort Minor Kill!Kill!Kill!- The Pierces Hard- Rihanna Cherry Bomb- The Runaways Bad Romance- Lady Gaga Gasoline & Matches- Julie Roberts Loca- Shakira My Medicine- The Pretty Reckless Fake It- Seether Psycho- Puddle of Mud All or Nothing- Theory of a Deadman Next to You- Buckcherry Better Dig Two- The Band Perry

That language is an instrument of human reason and not merely a medium for the expression of thought, is a truth generally admitted. -George Boole The way I feel about music is that there is no right and wrong. Only true and false. -Fiona Apple

Where Do I Begin,” Shirley Bassey; “Swing Life Away,” Rise Against; “I’ve Got a Crush on You,” Frank Sinatra; “My Best Friend’s Girl,” The Cars; “Mr. Brightside,” The Killers; “What Sarah Said,” Death Cab for Cutie; “The Scientist,” Coldplay; “Everlong,” Foo Fighters; “Wild Horses,” The Sundays; “One Love,” U2; “Criminal,” Fiona Apple; “Bleeding Love,” Leona Lewis; “Again,” Janet Jackson; “I Think That She Knows,” Justin Timberlake; “Let’s Get it On,” Marvin Gaye; “Let’s Stay Together,” Al Green; “Save the Last Dance for Me,” The Drifters.

Through the media, we’ve established this standard of what every human being should look up to: somebody who always looks right; who always has the right light on their face; never has bags under their eyes; never says anything inappropriate. Somebody who always somehow turns out perfect. I hate the fact that celebrities are supposedly a higher class of human being. That’s the way I felt growing up, and that’s the way I think a lot of people feel. So now that I’m in this position, I want to change things. I want to be like the patron saint of reality.

Merry Go Round – Kasey Musgraves West Coast – Lana Del Rey Whore – In This Moment Ocean Eyes – Billie Eilish Hot Girl Bummer - blackbear Bad Guy – Billie Eilish Teeth – 5 Seconds of Summer Hate Me – Ellie Goulding ft. Juice World 99 Problems – Hugo Burning House – Cam Walk Away – Five Finger Death Punch All the Good Girls Go to Hell – Billie Eilish Bath Salts – Highly Suspect Criminal – Fiona Apple Idfc – blackbear

That’s a great way to be in regular life. But if you’re making a song? And you’re making music and there is going to be passion in it and there is going to be anger in it? You have to go to the myelin sheath—you know, to the central nervous system—for it to be good, I feel like. And if that’s not true? Then fuck me, I wasted my fucking life and ruined everything...

I have only one thing to do and that’s be the wave that I am, and then sink back into the ocean. —Fiona Apple

...while riot grrrl is part of the punk rock/alternative rock feminism of the 1990s, it's by no means the majority of it. Despite the slogan, not every girl was a riot grrrl, and there's a huge swath of awesome women in '90s music who aren't riot grrrls. In no particular order: L7, Hole, PJ Harvey, Belly, Throwing Muses, Seven Year Bitch, Babes in Toyland, Liz Phair, Bjork, Juliana Hatfield, Gwen Stefani/No Doubt, Shirley Manson/Garbage, the Breeders, Luscious Jackson, Elastica, Sleater-Kinney, and may more women were part of either the alternative or indie rock music scene. Beyond that, the decade was pretty amazing for singer-songwriters like Tori Amos, Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Fiona Apple, Alanis Morissette, Tracy Chapman, and Melissa Etheridge; for the R&B and hip-hop artists like Salt-n-Peppa, Queen Latifah, TLC, En Vogue, and Missy Elliott; and, at the tail end of the decade, all the pop you could ever want with the Spice Girls, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and Destiny's Child. So, if you read this book, then run to Spotify to listen to riot grrrl bands, and find they're not for you, remember: there's more than one way to be a girl, and there's more than one kind of music to power you to your goals. What you listen to will never be as important as what you do.

This particular day in May, Fiona has slipped Thatch a note in the hallway between history and music class, a scrap of paper that says, simply, "cheesecake." Last week, she passed him notes that said "quiche" and "meatballs," and the week before it was "bread pudding" and "veal parmigiana." Most of the time the word is enticing enough to get him over right after school- for example, the veal parmigiana. Thatcher and Jimmy and Phil sat at Fiona's kitchen table throwing apples from the fruit bowl at one another and teasing the Kemps' Yorkshire terrier, Sharky, while Fiona, in her mother's frilly, flowered, and very queer-looking apron, dredged the veal cutlets in flour, dipped them in egg, dressed them with breadcrumbs, and then sautéed them in hot oil in her mother's electric frying pan. The boys really liked the frying part- there was something cool about meat in hot, splattering oil. But they lost interest during the sauce and cheese steps, and by the time Fiona slid the baking pan into the oven, Jimmy and Phil were ready to go home. Not Thatcher- he stayed until Fiona pulled the cheesy, bubbling dish from the oven and ate with Fiona and Dr. and Mrs. Kemp. His father worked late and his brothers were scattered throughout the neighborhood (his two older brothers could drive and many times they ate at the Burger King on Grape Road). Thatcher liked it when Fiona cooked; he liked it more than he would ever admit.