A clichรฉ is like a coin that has been handled too much. Once language has been overly handled, it no longer leaves a clear imprint.
Janet FitchI tried writing fiction as a little kid, but had a teacher humiliate me, so didn't write again until I was a senior in college.
Janet FitchHow could anybody confuse truth with beauty, I thought as I looked at him. Truth came with sunken eyes, bony or scarred, decayed. Its teeth were bad, its hair gray and unkempt. While beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.
Janet Fitchsheโs not as pretty as you,โ I said โBut sheโs a simpler girl,โ my mother whispered.
Janet Fitch