Stick a shovel into the ground almost anywhere and some horrible thing or other will come to light. Good for trade, we thrive on bones; without them there’d be no stories.
MARGARET ATWOODStick a shovel into the ground almost anywhere and some horrible thing or other will come to light. Good for trade, we thrive on bones; without them there’d be no stories.
MARGARET ATWOODAnd yet it disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional.
MARGARET ATWOODImmortality,’ said Crake, ‘ is a concept. If you take ‘mortality’ as being, not death, but the foreknowledge of it and the fear of it, then ‘immortality’ is the absence of such fear. Babies are immortal. Edit out the fear, and you’ll be.
MARGARET ATWOODWaste not want not. I am not being wasted. Why do I want?
MARGARET ATWOODOnce upon a time, novelists of the 19th century, such as Charles Dickens, published in serial form.
MARGARET ATWOODIt’s evening, one of those gray water-color washes, like liquid dust.
MARGARET ATWOODDon’t misunderstand me. I am not scoffing at goodness, which is far more difficult to explain than evil, and far more complicated. But sometimes it’s hard to put up with.
MARGARET ATWOODShow me a character totally without anxieties and I will show you a boring book.
MARGARET ATWOODI read for pleasure and that is the moment I learn the most.
MARGARET ATWOODThe heart with letters on it shining like a light bulb through the trim hole painted in the chest, art history.
MARGARET ATWOODI would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.
MARGARET ATWOODNature is an expert in cost-benefit analysis,’ she says. ‘Although she does her accounting a little differently. As for debts, she always collects in the long run.
MARGARET ATWOODFatigue is here, in my body, in my legs and eyes. That is what gets you in the end. Faith is only a word, embroidered.
MARGARET ATWOODAlthough from you I far must roam, do not be broken hearted. We two, who in the souls are one, are never truly parted.
MARGARET ATWOODwe lived in the gaps between the stories
MARGARET ATWOODVictorian literature was my subject at Harvard.
MARGARET ATWOOD