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Joan Frank

  • Coffee: We can get it anywhere, and get as loaded as we like on it, until such teeth-chattering, eye-bulging, nonsense-gibbering time as we may be classified unable to operate heavy machinery.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "Achieving Legal Liftoff," in San Francisco Examiner ()
  • [On coffee:] For a writer, it's more essential than food. Great American novel? Coming right up. We're talking second only to cocaine here, and hoarded as covetously.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "Achieving Legal Liftoff," in San Francisco Examiner ()
  • I found myself face to face with a long line of people resembling extras off the set of Night of the Living Dead: shuffling along, pale and twitching, empty cups in hand — murderous. Miserable. No matter that the air was rich with vapors of fresh-ground beans and warm muffins; no matter that the soft piped-in Vivaldi poured over us like steamed milk. These angry zombies were rushing to work, and their eyes flashed fair warning: Don't mess with us. We haven't had our coffee.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "Achieving Legal Liftoff," in San Francisco Examiner ()
  • I'm told some people no longer bother to have friends at all — can't fit them in.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "What Comes Around," in Utne Reader ()
  • Yes, letter writing is antiquated — though there remain a few renegades who still so treasure the luxury of contemplating their lives in letters that they would rather write than call.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "What Comes Around," in Utne Reader ()
  • Lovers and even some family members may come and go but the friendships that take root abide. Sometimes the best of what is true survives as if it had an independent will: The coals of friendship keep themselves alive until something happens to rekindle them.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "What Comes Around," in Utne Reader ()
  • Her belly was smooth and warm and luminous, like a bright moon, and she carried it the way women admire, high and centered and round.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "Sailing Away," Desperate Women Need to Talk to You ()
  • Public depictions of women still tend to remain rigid and narrow — about the size of a coffin, say.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "No One Escapes," Desperate Women Need to Talk to You ()
  • By now we know and anticipate one another so easily, so deeply, we unthinkingly finish each other's sentences, and often speak in code. No one else knows what I mean so exquisitely, painfully well; no one else knows so exactly what to say to fix me.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "Womb Mates," Desperate Women Need to Talk to You ()
  • And now I believe it a terrible, important, difficult charge, to guard a bristling brain inside the female form.

    • Joan Frank,
    • "The Ways Things Go," in Constance Warloe, ed., I've Always Meant to Tell You ()

Joan Frank, U.S. writer

(1949)