Janice Quotes

Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?

Everything is within your power, and your power is within you.

It's inappropriate for the queen of the dead to be afraid of ghosts.

I mean really if you can't count on your best friend to go to jail with you, what good are they?

You have attained maturity; display it for us, if you please.

Hell couldn't be worse than a WalMart after midnight, right?

Janice suddenly flopped her body down on the dusty, musty train seat and pulled herself into a fetal position. Libby stroked her shoulder, trying to comfort her. Maggie and I looked at each other. We knew Janice had more to tell us.

You would think there's a natural limit to tears: only so much the body can give at one sitting before it runs dry.

I'm the wife of a king, and the mother of kings. And I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. So fuck off, Jack.- Queen Christina (The Royal Treatment)

I've traveled the world twice over, Met the famous; saints and sinners, Poets and artists, kings and queens, Old stars and hopeful beginners, I've been where no-one's been before, Learned secrets from writers and cooks All with one library ticket To the wonderful world of books.

…the excitement of doing something for the first time had passed. I laid there in the back seat looking at the moon. It was unobscured by clouds except for a few wisps here and there. (Mitch) put his arms around me, and we looked at the moon together. You think we’ll have a lot of moons like this, this month? Mitch asked. “I hope so,” I said. We turned to each other and laughed. He didn’t try to fuck me after that. We just talked for a while about music, school, our brothers, and Janice, of course. And then he drove me home.

He said my name the way diabetics talked about hot fudge sundaes.

We have souls. Sure we do. Otherwise we'd do bad things all the time. You know, like politicians.

The last few weeks of that summer, Janice lost interest in our conversations…. Her mind was taking her to other places, as though she was listening to a song or watching a movie or reading a book we could neither see nor hear.

Never let your fiend off his leash unless there's lots of room to run (and no people around).

The call from Momma was like a bullet piercing my Washington bubble. Janice had been on short trip with her baby daughter locked safely in a car seat in the back. The baby was fussy and, as Janice reached back to grab her daughter’s pacifier that had fallen, another vehicle had blindsided her car. She survived it but her baby girl didn’t.

I could have gone to medical school, I said. Except for all the math and stuff.

You don't scare me, Cadence Jones. I've lived with crazy, I've ridden with crazy, I've vacationed with crazy, I've visited crazy in various hospitals, I've sat in on therapy sessions with crazy. Frankly, I think women who don't have major emotional disorders are really very dull.

Take your hands off her, Sinclair told the guy behind me, Or they'll write books about what I'll do to you.

I'm rubber and you're glue," I told Satan, " and everything that bounces of me sticks to you.

Our happiness depends on ourselves

He snarled at me. "This isn't over yet, Betsy." "Excellent," I said. "I would also have accepted 'You haven't seen the last of me' and 'You'll regret this'.

I was so furious I was actually dizzy with it. There were so many bitchy, sarcastic observations to make, I was having a sarcasm stroke. "My God! You people! You're - you're so stupid you're making my eyeballs throb. They're throbbing, dammit!

Needing people yet being afraid of them is wearing me out.

I would not bend. They could not make me Pliable. My mind was strong. My mind was mine.

No matter how often I think I can't stand it anymore, I always do. There is no alternative. I don't fall, I don't foam at the mouth, faint, collapse or die. It's the same for all of us. You can't get out of the inside of your own head. Something keeps you going. Something always does.

Fraser's mother, Janice, was actually quite a happy soul but she had to hide it because, like all pseudo intellectuals, she thought being cheery made her look stupid, which of course she was for believing that rubbish in the first place. She like to talk about Sartre sometimes, just as insurance.

I was learning about journalism, and I was learning about politics. I discovered there was plenty of politics in journalism, dumping a story, a great story, to keep the Mayor happy. I heard Coach Michael’s voice in my head: ‘You can’t run and gun, girl.’ Mitch’s voice: ‘You can’t wear that bikini, girl.’ Even Janice’s voice: ‘You can’t tell anyone, ever.’ Can’t. Can’t. Can’t. That’s why I wasn’t going to back down (about killing the story).

I had to wonder if the Lord above had flashed a heavenly spotlight over my head and whispered, "Preach this sermon just for her. She's not going to get the message otherwise.

Fear is a bird that refuses to fly, and each time she neglects to use her wings, she consents to the slow death of her destiny.

And in the end, I think, we're all just trying to survive, aren't we?

They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

It's easy to write upcoming scenes in books and television shows. Trusting God to write them in real life is a lot harder. But it's worth it. And you have to admit, it's an adventure.

Doing whats right is never easy ... You think you're right, but you lose track of what you were trying to do all along and then there's blood and screaming and death.Doing a bad thing for a good end just sours the good.

Has anyone ever told you that you lack focus?

Really, there was only one sensible thing to do. Stay the course. Pray it through, day by day, minute by minute. The Lord had an answer and it would surely come. (p. 203)

I've been stabbed before. Barely a week ago, in fact. AND I've been audited, AND I come from a broken home. In short - no offense, shorty - you don't scare me.

Driving home, I thought of Janice, wondering why I wasn’t upset or hurt by (William) Styron’s wine-soaked moves. Did I give his flirtations a pass because of the alcohol? Was it because he was a famous and a highly praised writer whom I'd wanted to meet? Or did I need to protect him since he was somebody, and I was nobody? I only knew that I didn’t feel abused, like I knew Janice had been…. Styron was famous. But so was Coach, at least in Soso.

Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for the idignity you suffered and offer you the head of our enemy as—" "Put that thing down," I said impatiently. "I can't talk to you when you're shaking his head like a damned maraca.

No matter how dark the room gets I can always see. It looks emptier when I put the lights on so I don't do it if I can help it. Brightness disagrees with me: it hurts my eyes, wastes electricity and encourages moths, all sorts of things. I sit in the dark for a number of reasons.

Was there anything more intimate than being truly seen?

What good are dreams if they lie only in closed boxes.

Did vampirism encourage Stockholm syndrome?

Wow, girlfriend, you're incompatible with life! And here I thought I was just incompatible with pink.

...the only way to happiness is to find people with whom you can eat, drink and laugh. That is everything

There are so many things to know and learn. She reads...and finds comfort in the fact that she will never run out of books.

I slipped one of the shoes off, looked at the inside. Property of Antonia O'Neill Taylor. I knew it. My stepmother! The bitch meant to bury me wearing her cast off shoes!

Elizabeth Anne Taylor April 25, 1974 - April 25, 2004 Our Sweetheart, Only resting

I know it's practical for career women, but sneakers with suits? Jesus couldn't possibly weep harder than I did.

Entitlement is an expression of conditional love. Nobody is ever entitled to your love. You always have a right to protect your mental, emotional, and physical well-being by removing yourself from toxic people and circumstances.

It's nice to see you again, Laura." "Thank you, Mrs. T-" "No, no, no. Please, my name is-" "Mud," I suggested. "Mud Barfbag Taylor. Call her Asshat for short." ~Laura, Antonia, Betsy

I mean, I wouldn't have wanted to be recognized. But I was kind of a prude about cheating on taxes, group sex, murder, and stuff.

Darling, I have a penis. Ergo I have no preferences.

George you were very very bad to run away from Alice. Very bad But you were very good to stomp Sinclair when he was being a dick so I think we'll call this a wash.

I walked in on my folks doing it doggy style less than four hours ago." "Waitress!" Jonas screamed, clicking his fingers madly. "Bring two!" then, more quietly,"You want a neck massage? A bedtime story? A bullet in the ear?

There's more than one way for a girl to Google a cat.

I swore we'd never be together, but—' 'Your inner whore would not be denied.' she finished.

There is no work-life balance. We have one life. What's most important is that you be awake for it.

As though I am oriented only by your presence, or your absence. You are my north.

I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.

Also,I loathe it when you refer to me as dude" Eric Sinclair to Betsy

Creativity is the Blue Heron within us waiting to fly; through her imagination, all things become possible.

It's asking for trouble to listen to music alone.

Sometimes the very best stuff can seem quite plain, until one examines it closely. It is only then that one sees its true quality.

I—I adore you, too. Well, I don't know if I adore you. That's not really the word I'd use. But I—I—" I managed to wrench it out. God, this was hard! "I love you." "Of course you do," he said, totally unsurprised. "WHAT? I finally tell you my deepest, most personal feelings and you're all, 'Yeah, I already got that memo'? This, this is why you drive me nuts! This is why it's so hard to tell you things! I take it back.

Nature is one of the most underutilized treasures in life. It has the power to unburden hearts and reconnect to that inner place of peace.

A Tip from Bonnie Sue: God is the ultimate band director. Pay close attention, because you don't want to get ahead of him. Stick with him in perfect timing, and he will make a beautiful melody out of your life.

Sinclair doesn't love your sister." "Not yet." I said darkly. "Give him time." "Look, I'm sure he's interested in her—" "Wait till you see her. Just wait." "Like he doesn't have pussy thrown at him from cars?" "What a horrifying mental image.

In order to discover your own contents, you have to investigate the inside of someone else.

She couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the irises began; looking into those eyes was like looking into a well where children had drowned.

I'll have you know Southern isn't a synonym for stupid.

And anyway, in our house, no-one is obliged to sparkle. Which, I find, makes it far more likely that they might.

The ones we pretend to ignore are the ones we're most aware of.

Then she (Queen Christina) stood with the Prince and grinned like a monkey and waved like a fucked-up prom queen while about a thousand flashbulb went off in her face.

Why is it suddenly uncool to spell? That's all I want to know.

Doing what's right is seldom easy.

Yeah, well, it's been a super fun week. And by 'super fun' I mean 'horrible and endless'.

I am struck, at this moment, by how precisely we know how to hurt the ones we love.

Fredrika Bimm, what do you think you're doing?" "Freaking out. Losing my mind. Thinking about snapping your husband's spine. Squashing the urge to vomit. Wishing I had died at childbirth." "Oh, you say that when you don't get a prize in your Lucky Charms.

It never failed—I'd buy a new journal, write like a madwoman for ten pages, then lose total interest in the process. Three months later, I'd start the whole process all over again. I think I just liked buying new notebooks.

A Tip from Bonnie Sue: Struggling to fill your dance card? Remember, the Lord wants to be your ultimate partner. He's the one who knows you best after all.

Touch my things again, whether I'm dead or not, and I'll kick your ass up into your shoulder blades.

What's amazing is that she was possessed by Satan for almost a year and nobody noticed anything unusual!

Sometimes we eat others to affirm our own existence. Sometimes we forget what we see the moment we've seen it.

I'm in a Roadrunner cartoon, Sinclair. And I'm the coyote.

I've always assumed he'd be around to be, you know, yelled at and taken for granted. And of course I was wrong. Nobody's going to put up with that forever.

Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

Books are like a disease. Once you've got it, it's incurrable and lifelong

I trudged around on the muddy river bottom for half an hour, patiently waiting to drown, before giving up and slogging my way back to shore.

Me a Basseri legend? Saints, how sad must their lives be if I was the best thing they had to talk about?

The phone is an instrument of intrusion into order. It is a threat to control. Just when you think you are alone and safe, the call could come that changes your life. Or someone else's. It makes the same flat, mechanical noise for everyone and gives no clues what's waiting there on the other end of the line. You can never be too careful.

He's all right. His hair is cute." Jonas froze, his lobster fork halfway to his mouth. " Oh my God, you're in love." "I'm not in love." "'his hair is cute'? You never say anything nice about anyone. Coming from you, cute hair is a mating call." " I talked to the guy for thirty seconds. And then he waved at me while i was in the tank." "Holy fuck, you're getting married, aren't you!" " Will you simmer. I certainly am not.

May the road rise to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. May the rains fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again, May the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand. Irish blessing

He flashed the warmest smile I'd ever seen, and my heart felt comforted. Maybe D.J. saw my insecurities, my fears. Maybe he knew God still had a lot of work to do in my life before I'd be good girlfriend material. Or maybe, just maybe, he saw beyond all that and simply wanted to flirt with the wedding coordinator instead of rehearse for the big night. I did my best to relax...and let him.

Stories are told at festive, joyful gatherings, but the ones narrated at funerals are special because they reaffirm existence, of the listeners and the narrators. They are times of remembrance that haul the past into the present, and keep people alive even when they’re gone.

Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" I snapped. "If I want to take my sister to my place of business, that's my own damned business and not any of your business." Was I overusing the word business? Fuck it. "So mind your own business.

I already read everything. I read poems and plays and novels and newspapers and comic books and magazines. I read tins in supermarkets and leaflets that come through the door, unsolicited mail. None of it lasts long and it doesn't give me answers. Reading too fast is not soothing.

My my Laura Goodman. I must say that is a charming name for a charming young lady." "Eric's old." I broke in. "Really really old." "Er— really?" Laura asked. "Gosh you don't look even out of your thirties." "Tons of face-lifts. He's a surgical addict. I'm trying to get him help." I added defensively when they both gave me strange looks.

You may stay. But Jessica, please watch what you say and do. Don't look them in the eyes for long. Speak only when spoken to. Yes, sir; yes, ma'am." "Sit up. Arf," I teased. "What about her?" Jessica cried, pointing in my general direction. "She's more in need of an etiquette lesson than I am." "Yeah," I said, "but I'm the Queen. With a capital fucking Q. Hey, you're looking me in the eyes for too long! Eric, make her stop!

If women really choose prostitution, why is it mostly marginalized and disadvantaged women who do? If we want to discuss the issue of choice, let’s look at who is doing the actual choosing in the context of prostitution. Surely the issue is not why women allegedly choose to be in prostitution, but why men choose to buy the bodies of millions of women and children worldwide and call it sex. Philosophically, the response to the choice debate is ‘not’ to deny that women are capable of choosing within contexts of powerlessness, but to question how much real value, worth, and power these so-called choices confer. Politically, the question becomes, should the state sanction the sex industry based on the claim that some women choose prostitution when most women’s choice is actually 'compliance’ to the only options available? When governments idealize women’s alleged choice to be in prostitution by legalizing, decriminalizing, or regulating the sex industry, they endorse a new range of 'conformity’ for women. Increasingly, what is defended as a choice is not a triumph over oppression but another name for it.