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Margaret Atwood

"My self is a thing that I must now compose...as one composes a speech. What I must present is a 'made' thing. Not something born."

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"My self is a thing that I must now compose...as one composes a speech. What I must present is a 'made' thing. Not something born."

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Amber Hurdle

"She liked getting hold of some book... and keeping it to herself, and gnawing its contents in privacy, and pondering the meaning without sharing her thoughts with any one, or having to decide whether the book was a good one or a bad one."

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Amber Hurdle

"Dream your dream; and realize that you are more than just the dreamer, you are the point of origin for its reality."

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Amber Hurdle

"We are all worms but I do believe that I am a glow-worm."

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Amber Hurdle

"She can't help it,' he said. 'She's got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog."

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Amber Hurdle

"Songs of myselfI am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me, The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into new tongue. I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,.."

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Amber Hurdle

"Who would you impress if the world was blind?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Call me Richard. That's my real name. Call me that."

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Amber Hurdle

"Either way, you were connected. By your desires. By your defiance. By the simple, complicated fact of who you were."

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Amber Hurdle

"I have a dark soul, that doesn't mean I don't love the sun, rainbows and things that emphasize the light."

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Amber Hurdle

"Dreaming and loving and screwing. None of these are identities. Maybe when other people look at us, but not to ourselves. We are so much more complicated than that."

Explore more quotes by Margaret Atwood

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Margaret Atwood
"Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it's heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket."
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Margaret Atwood
"I hope that people will finally come to realize that there is only one 'race' - the human race - and that we are all members of it."
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Margaret Atwood
"She would roll up her sleeves and dispense with sentimentality, and do whatever blood-soaked, bad-smelling thing had to be done. She would become adept with axes."
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Margaret Atwood
"Little girls are cute and small only to adults. To one another they are not cute. They are life-sized."
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Margaret Atwood
"They spent the first three years of school getting you to pretend stuff and then the rest of it marking you down if you did the same thing."
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Margaret Atwood
"Walking was not fast enough so we ran. Running was not fast enough, so we galloped. Galloping was not fast enough, so we sailed. Sailing was not fast enough, so we rolled merrily along on long metal tracks. Long metal tracks were not fast enough, so we drove. Driving was not fast enough, so we flew.Flying isn't fast enough, not fast enough for us. We want to get there faster. Get where? Wherever we are not. But a human soul can go only as fast as a man can walk, they used to say. In that case, where are all the souls? Left behind. They wander here and there, slowly, dim lights flickering in the marshes at night, looking for us. But they're not nearly fast enough, not for us, we're way ahead of them, they'll never catch up. That's why we can go so fast: our souls don't weigh us down."
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Margaret Atwood
"I wish I didn't have to think about you. You wanted to impress me; well, I'm not impressed, I'm disgusted...You wanted to make damn good and sure I'd never be able to turn over in bed again without feeling that body beside me, not there but tangible, like a leg that's been cut off. Gone but the place still hurts."
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Margaret Atwood
"Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow."
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Margaret Atwood
"I keep on going with this sad and hungry and sordid, this limping and mutilated story, because after all I want you to hear it.By telling you anything at all I'm at least believing in you. Because I'm telling you this story I will your existence. I tell, therefore you are."
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Margaret Atwood
"The Chorus Line:A Rope-Jumping Rhymewe are the maidsthe ones you killedthe ones you failedwe danced in airour bare feet twitchedit was not fairwith every goddess, queen, and bitchfrom there to hereyou scratched your itchwe did much lessthan what you didyou judged us badyou had the spearyou had the wordat your commandwe scrubbed the bloodof our deadparamours from floors, from chairsfrom stairs, from doors,we knelt in waterwhile you staredat our bare feetit was not fairyou licked our fearit gave you pleasureyou raised your handyou watched us fallwe danced on airthe ones you failedthe ones you killed."
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