When midlist writers are treated like dirt, I would desist were I less stubborn and less committed. Marge Piercy More Quotes by Marge Piercy More Quotes From Marge Piercy Attention is love, what we must give children, mothers, fathers, pets, our friends, the news, the woes of others. What we want to change we curse and then pick up a tool. Bless whatever you can with eyes and hands and tongue. If you can't bless it, get ready to make it new. Marge Piercy motherfatherchildren We can only know what we can truly imagine. Finally what we see comes from ourselves. Marge Piercy utopiaimagineknows The moon is always female and so am I although often in the vale of razorblades I have wished I could put on and take off my sex like a dress and why not? Marge Piercy moondressessex In her bottled up is a woman peppery as curry, a yam of a woman of butter and brass. Marge Piercy curryyamsbrass Shared laughter is erotic too. Marge Piercy laughterjoyhappiness The sense of being Jewish never left me, but when my grandmother died, I rebelled against Judaism as I knew it then, which was Orthodox. I saw the rituals, a lot of them, as very male, for a long time. Marge Piercy malesgrandmotherlong Suppose that a person writes what she must. That is only the first step of becoming a writer. The work must survive the moment of creation. It must get out to an audience. She or he must dare to show the work. She must risk ridicule, misunderstanding, scandal, condemnation, & what's often worse, none of the above: silence. No attention at all. Marge Piercy risksilencewriting The price of seeing is silence. Marge Piercy seeingsilence In fiction, I exercise my nosiness. I am as curious as my cats, and indeed that has led to trouble often enough and used up several of my nine lives. I am an avid listener. I am fascinated by other people's lives, the choices they make and how that works out through time, what they have done and left undone, what they tell me and what they keep secret and silent, what they lie about and what they confess, what they are proud of and what shames them, what they hope for and what they fear. The source of my fiction is the desire to understand people and their choices through time. Marge Piercy catexerciselying Nobody can live on a bridge or plant potatoes but it is fine for comings and goings, meetings, partings and long views and a real connection to someplace else where you may in the crazy weathers of struggle how and again want to be. Marge Piercy crazyrealstruggle The mind wraps itself around a poem. It is almost sensual, particularly if you work on a computer. You can turn the poem round and about and upside down, dancing with it a kind of bolero of two snakes twisting and coiling, until the poem has found its right and proper shape. Marge Piercy snakesdancingtwo Pain is a forcing sieve that turns me to gruel. Marge Piercy turn-meturnspain The real writer is one who really writes. Marge Piercy realwriting I don't even remember what Mother and I quarreled about: it is a continual quarrel that began when I reached puberty. Marge Piercy quarrelsmotherremember We admire predators - panthers, lions, tigers, even wolves. Maybe to be naturally thoughtful and hesitant to use violence is to be somehow second rate. To be in the middle of the social food chain. Especially if you're a man. This society thinks real men are violent. Marge Piercy realmenthinking History is a game played backwards only. Marge Piercy backwardsgameshistory The incidence of violent brand-loyalty to one's own current dogma has risen. Marge Piercy politicalpartyloyalty Too much self-regard has never struck me as dignified: trying to twist over my shoulder to view my own behind. Marge Piercy selfviewstrying Only when we break the mirror and climb into our vision, Marge Piercy mirrorsrealdream The politics of the exile are fever, Marge Piercy revengewingswar
