The prospect of his future life stretched before him like a sentence; not a prison sentence but a long-winded sentence with a lot of unnecessary subordinate clauses, as he was soon in the habit of quipping during Happy Hour pickup time at the local campus bars and pubs. He couldnโt say he was looking forward to it, this rest-of-his-life.
Margaret AtwoodYou can pretty much trace when the big individual indebtedness kicked in, and it was when the credit card became generally available.
Margaret AtwoodI wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilized. I wish it showed me in a better light, if not happier, than at least more active, less hesitant, less distracted by trivia. I wish it had more shape. I wish t were about love, or about sudden realizations important to oneโs life, or even about sunsets, birds, rainstorms, or snow. Iโm sorry there is so much pain in this story. Iโm sorry itโs in fragments, like a body caught in crossfire or pulled apart by force. But there is nothing I can do to change it.
Margaret AtwoodI wait. I compose myself. My self is a thing I must now compose, as one composes a speech. What I must present is a made thing, not something born.
Margaret Atwood