Sylvie wishes the anti-depressants had been around when she was in her early twenties, not only to rescue her from the dark tunnels that came when her brother first got sick, but also to keep her from fucking all those assholes.

— Francesca Lia Block

The girl in the mirror wasn't who I wanted to be, and her life wasn't the one I wanted to have.

— Francesca Lia Block

They knew, though, she would not suffer as they had suffered. She was perfect. They were scarred.

— Francesca Lia Block

They were laughing, and their hair was shining like leaves in moonlight, their limbs long as saplings. I thought, Girls are magical at this phase, girls are invincible, nothing can touch them. I didn’t think ‘us’ because I didn’t feel that; I felt other, on the outside, watching them.

— Francesca Lia Block

Think about the word destroy. Do you know what it is? Destroy. Destroy. Destroy. You see. And restore. That's re-story. Do you know that only two things have been proven to help survivors of the Holocaust? Massage is one. Telling their story is another. Being touched and touching. Telling your story is touching. It sets you free.

— Francesca Lia Block

This was not a fierce tale. This was not the movies. This was life. It hurt more. It was excruciating. Furthermore, it was excruciatingly beautiful.

— Francesca Lia Block

Ulster vinyl pumps, Partridge Family records, plastic daisy jewelry, old postcards. . . . It's a magpie Christmas market.

— Francesca Lia Block

Under the ground seep the toxins of the population that lives above. If you have to, you will eat roots and earthworms. It is always night. Candles burn in lanterns made from tin cans. When it is nighttime up above, you can crawl out, but only for a little while. You feel ashamed of your matted hair, your torn clothes, the dirt on your face. Who would want to speak to you? They are all shiny and pretty. They have parents and house with gardens. What do you have? The earth. Whole handfuls of it. The lizard people with their slit eyes and scaly skin. Your loneliness. Your longing.

— Francesca Lia Block

Under the pink Harlequin sunglasses strawberry dangling charms, and sugar-frosted eyeshadow she was really almost beautiful.

— Francesca Lia Block

War is being reminded that you are completely at the mercy of death at every moment, without the illusion that you are not. Without the distractions that make life worth living.

— Francesca Lia Block