“My mother says that pain is hidden in everyone you see. She says try to imagine it like big bunches of flowers that everyone is carrying around with them. Think of your pain like a big bunch of red roses, a beautiful thorn necklace. Everyone has one.” ThinkingTryingBigsPainBeautifulMotherImagineFlowerRedRoseLovelyBunchNecklacesRed Rose Author:Francesca Lia Block
“I dreamed you were standing in this dark place and you touched these dead flowers and they lit up like they were electric or something. Electric lilies. Lighting up the Valley.” DarkFlowerStandingTouchedValleysElectricLitLightingLiliesDark PlacesDead Flowers Author:Francesca Lia Block
“She wished she had a little yellow house of her own, with a flower box full of real flowers and herbs – pansies and rosemary – and a sweet lover who would swing dance with her in the evenings and cook pasta and read poetry aloud.” LittlesRealHouseSweetFlowerLoversBoxesEveningCooksYellowSwingsHerbsPastaPansiesRosemary Author:Francesca Lia Block
“the rain is coming. little sister, the night broke. the thunder cracked my brain finally. the rain is coming, i promise you. i didn’t mean to but your tears will bring life back. purple flowers grow, the colour blood looks in the veins. they’ll sprout out of my chest. i promise you they’ll crack the ground, grow over the freeways, down the slopes to the sea. i’ll be in their faces. i’ll be in the waves, coming down from the sky. i’ll be inside the one who holds you. and then i won’t be.” LooksMeanLittlesFacesNightGrowsBrainBloodSeaSkyTearsFlowerPromiseRainWaveBrokeColourCracksChestsVeinsThunderPurpleI PromiseCrackedSlopesSproutsFreewaysLittle Sister Author:Francesca Lia Block
“The circus tent was flowing pale in the rain like a fleshy flower lit from within. It seemed to bloom in the downpour. Drops of rain caught on Rafe's eyelashes, blinding him as the circus light struck them. He groped for the flap, that slit in the fabric that would reveal her to him. She was on the rope again, her skirt flashing with tiny mirrors, hair braided with petals. He looked up at her, dizzy with it, seeing her face framed in the parasol. There were bluish shadows around her eyes.” LightEyeFacesSeeingFlowerHairShadowRainMirrorsCaughtTinyPaleFabricHer EyesLitRopeCircusSkirtsTentsPetalsFramedDizzyEyelashesSlitsParasols Author:Francesca Lia Block
“She was no longer a slow dreamer watching the flowers grow. She was a warrior now. Warriors need something to fight for though, beside their lives, because otherwise their lives will not be worth it.” NeedsFightingGrowsFlowerWarriorDreamerWorth It Author:Francesca Lia Block
“Flowers are reincarnation. They come out of the earth of our ashes. Nothing else looks so soul-like.” LooksSoulEarthFlowerAshesReincarnation Author:Francesca Lia Block
“I pounded through the houses, staggering down the hallways, falling down the steps. It was a hot streaky dawn full of insecticides, exhaust, flowers that could make you sick or fall in love. My battered Impala was still parked there on the side of the road and I wanted to lie down on the shredded seats and sleep and sleep. But I thought of the bones; I could hear them singing. They needed me to write their song.” WritingStillsWantedLyingSongFallHouseSidesSleepStepsFlowerNeededSingingSickHotFalling In LoveBonesDawnSeatsFalling DownStaggeringHallwaysBatteredInsecticides Author:Francesca Lia Block
“You were just a boy on a bed in a room, like a kaleidoscope is a tube full of bits of broken glass. But the way I saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew.” WayLightUniverseBitsRoomsBoysSawsPiecesPlanetsFlowerBrokenBedInfiniteGlassesCellsRainbowInsectsShiftingTubesDividingKaleidoscopeBroken GlassInfinite Universe Book:Wasteland Source: Wasteland
“I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.” WantHandsEyeSongFlowerUnrequited LoveUnrequitedWant Him Author:Francesca Lia Block
“It's not that I literally think I'm a fearie. It's just that I feel so different from most people. And this idea of a race living underground in caverns, spending all their days dancing and playing the fiddle and eating flowers and reciting poetry and sharing their dreams, that to me sounds much more real than the way people live in this world, hating and fighting and wanting and hurting.” PeopleThinkingWorldWayFeelsIdeasDifferentRealDreamHateFightingSoundHurtRaceThis WorldFlowerEatingDancingSpendingFiddleRecitingCaverns Author:Francesca Lia Block
