Francesca Lia Block Quotes

Valentinemy friends stitched it up with golden threadlike a redsatin pillow they gave me other whole ones tooroses and charms and red candlesmilagros to repair the real onethey told me i was no longer...

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.

About Author

Francesca Lia Block (born December 3, 1962) is an American writer of adult and young-adult literature. She wrote the Weetzie Bat series, which she began while a student at UC Berkeley.

I climb through the rubble toward the door. It takes a long time, time enough for a Giant to see me from the blood-red stained-glass eye window and reach out to crush me in his hand the size of a trac...

The wishes might not come true the way you think they will, not everything will be perfect, but love will come because it always does, because why else would it exist and it will make everything hurt...

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 wa...

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

We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting...

You must reach inside yourselves 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.

My baby brother would never call Hex soft. Not Hex.And not me, either. Not anymore. Not any fucking more.

My pain is ugly, Angel Juan. I feel like I have so much ugly pain,' says Witch Baby in a dream.'Everyone does,' Angel Juan says. 'My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try t...

Why was fabulousness important? The world was a scary, sad place and adornment was one of the only ways she knew to make herself and the people around her forget their troubles. That was why she had o...

Pain didn't ever really stop, he thought; it just changed forms.

The night was a rush of steaming pasta, wet irises, Italian leathers, swaddled beggars, skulking boys, sulking girls, garbage piles, pretzel vendors.

She had changed him. The ice was in his eyes and in his heart, like he had predicted with that song, but now they were deep embedded there, all the pain of the world. Not pain to make you feel for som...

You turned your head to look at me. Your eyes looked so big in your face, so mysterious — wide and flickering like a butterfly-wing mask. When you saw me the wails turned to sobs, and then just quiete...

So the spell was broken and she ran home through a tangle of words where the letters jumbled and made no sense and meant nothing, and the words were ugly and she was not to be heard or seen, she was b...

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

Dirk, this is Peace, Granola, Crystal, Chi, Aura, Tahini, and the twins, Yin and Yang, Duck said....They had all of us one right after the other. Me while they were into the total surf scene when they...

When they first kiss, there on the beach, they will kneel at the edge of the Pacific and say a prayer of thanks, sending all the stories of love inside them out in a fleet of bottles all across the oc...

Part of me wanted to swoon into nothing, but the other women’s bones were talking. I didn’t see the bones but I knew they were there, under the house. The little runaway bones of skinny, hungry girls...