Quotes by Margaret Atwood

Im not going to have a husband anyway, said Laura. Im going to live by myself in the garage.

Every Canadian has a complicated relationship with the United States, whereas Americans think of Canada as the place where the weather comes from.

She writes like an angel, it says of Laura on the back of one of the editions of The Blind Assassin. An American edition, as I recall, with gold scrollwork on the cover: they set a lot of store by angels in those parts. In point of fact angels dont write much. They record sins and the names of the dammed and the saved, or they appear as disembodied hands and scribble warnings on walls. Or they deliver messages, few of which are good news: God be with you is not an unmixed blessing.

I guess thats how they were able to do it, in the way they did it, all at once, without anyone knowing beforehand. If there had still been portable money, it would have been more difficult. It was after the catastrophe, when they shot the president and machine-gunned the Congress and the army declared a state of emergency. They blamed it on the Islamic fanatics at the time. I was stunned. Everyone was, I know that. It was hard to believe, the entire government gone like that. How did they get in, how did it happen? That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasnt even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasnt even an enemy you could put your finger on.

Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you cant go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.

Setting fire to the roofs, getting away with the loot, suiting herself. She studied modern philosophy, read Sartre on the side, smoked Gitanes, and cultivated a look of bored contempt. But inwardly, she was seething with unfocused excitement, and looking for someone to worship.

« Stan wants to see them work the facial features, especially the smiles. He has a professional interest, from his job at Dimple. The Empathy Model he’d worked on could smile, but it was the same smile every time. Though what else did you need for checking out groceries? Put two eyes on anything and basically it looks like a face. »

Thinking he knows can be a trap. An ex-professor once told him he had a diamond-hard intellect and he’d been flattered at the time. Now he considers the nature of diamonds. Although sharp and glittering and useful for cutting glass, they shine with reflected light only. They’re no use at all in the dark

Sauve qui peut. To survivewe’d all turn thiefand rascal, or so says the fox,with her coat of an elegant scoundrel,her white knife of a smile,who knows just where she’s going:to steal somethingthat doesn’t belong to her -some chicken, or one more chance,or other life.

Surviving Is the only warWe can afford

He would have died soon, but more painfully. Anyway, it was Urban Bloodshed Limitation. First rule: limit bloodshed by making sure that none of your own gets spilled.

And if I talk to him, Ill say something wrong, give something away. I can feel it coming, a betrayal of myself.

Its simple, Kat told them. You bombard them with images of what they ought to be, and you make them feel grotty for being the way they are. Youre working with the gap between reality and perception. Thats why you have to hit them with something new, something theyve never seen before, something they arent. Nothing sells like anxiety.

I am certain that a Sewing Machine would relieve as much human suffering as a hundred Lunatic Asylums, and possibly a good deal more.

No wires tender even as nervescan transmit the impact ofour seasons, our catastropheswhile we are closed inside them

Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave -The water below is as dark as the grave,And maybe youll sink in your little blue boat -Its hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat

I wish I didnt have to think about you. You wanted to impress me; well, Im not impressed, Im disgusted...You wanted to make damn good and sure Id never be able to turn over in bed again without feeling that body beside me, not there but tangible, like a leg thats been cut off. Gone but the place still hurts.

The sun was up, the room already too warm. Light filtered in through the net curtains, hanging suspended in the air, sediment in a pond. My head felt like a sack of pulp. Still in my nightgown, damp from some fright Id pushed aside like foliage, I pulled myself up and out of my tangled bed, then forced myself through the usual dawn rituals - the ceremonies we perform to make ourselves look sane and acceptable to other people. The hair must be smoothed down after whatever apparitions have made it stand on end during the night, the expression of staring disbelief washed from the eyes. The teeth brushed, such as they are. God knows what bones Id been gnawing in my sleep.

But unshed tears can turn rancid. So can memory. So can biting your tongue. My bad nights were beginning. I couldnt sleep.

More and more I feel like a letter—deposited here, collected there. But a letter addressed to no one.