Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow. Margaret Atwood More Quotes by Margaret Atwood More Quotes From Margaret Atwood At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down. Margaret Atwood runningideasfall I hate to tell you this, but you will never actually go to a galaxy far, far away and encounter Darth Vader. That's science fiction; it isn't going to happen. Margaret Atwood encountershatefiction The heart of Jesus glowed, because it was holy. Holy things glowed in general. Margaret Atwood holyheartjesus The proper study of Mankind is Everything. Margaret Atwood mankindstudy I know that some books and some writers, you can pretty much draw a square around it and say, 'Nobody under 40,' or 'Nobody under 25.' With my books, it always has been, and continues to be, spread right across the board, and I think the operative term is 'reader.' Margaret Atwood squaresbookthinking I suppose these deadlines we set for ourselves are really a way of saying we appreciate time, and want to use all of it. Margaret Atwood appreciateusewant I'm a strict, strict agnostic. It's very different from a casual, 'I don't know.' It's that you cannot present as knowledge something that is not knowledge. You can present it as faith, you can present it as belief, but you can't present it as fact. Margaret Atwood differentbelieffacts In Paradise there are no stories, because there are no journeys. Margaret Atwood paradisejourneystories The truth is seldom welcome, especially at dinner. Margaret Atwood welcomedinnertruth-is I am not a saint or a cripple, I am not a wound; now I will see whether I am a coward. Margaret Atwood cripplescowardsaint I grew up in the north woods of Canada. You had to know certain things about survival. Wilderness survival courses weren't very formalized when I was growing up, but I was taught certain things about what to do if I got lost in the woods. Margaret Atwood woodsgrowing-upsurvival Inside the peach, there is a stone. Margaret Atwood peachesstones Your hand is a warm stone I hold between two words. Margaret Atwood stonestwohands A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other people talking about me, saying bad things about me, behind my back. There's the same flush of shame, of guilt and terror, and of cold disgust with myself. But I don't know where these feelings have come from, what I've done. Margaret Atwood talkinglyingblood It's clear, it's fresh, like a mint candy. Margaret Atwood mintcandyclear He has to find more and better ways of occupying his time. His time, what a bankrupt idea, as if he's been given a box of time belonging to him alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that he can spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what he does with it. Margaret Atwood doerunningideas But maybe, underneath, she loves him too much. Maybe it's her excessive love that pushes him away. Margaret Atwood excessive-lovetoo-much You can’t buy it, but it has a price,” said Oryx. “Everything has a price. Margaret Atwood said and each of his voices left his body in a different colored soul and floated up towards the sun still singing. Margaret Atwood singingvoicesoul We slept in what had once been the gymnasium. Margaret Atwood gymnasiums
