So what about love? I asked. She had started toward the kitchen but stopped, turned back, glasses in her hands. What about it? When Olivia frowned, two vertical lines sliced between her eyebrows and cut into her rounded forehead. I flushed red, but I wanted to know. If only I could ask without falling all over myself like a clown in size fourteen shoes. Don’t you believe in it? I don’t believe in it the way people believe in God or the tooth fairy. It’s more like the National Enquirer. A big headline and a very dull story. ― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

So what about love? I asked. She had started toward the kitchen but stopped, turned back, glasses in her hands. What about it? When Olivia frowned, two vertical lines sliced between her eyebrows and cut into her rounded forehead. I flushed red, but I wanted to know. If only I could ask without falling all over myself like a clown in size fourteen shoes. Don’t you believe in it? I don’t believe in it the way people believe in God or the tooth fairy. It’s more like the National Enquirer. A big headline and a very dull story.
― Janet Fitch,

White Oleander

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