The temptation is to stay inside; to subside into the kind of recluse whom neighborhood children regard with derision and little awe; to let the hedges and weeds grow up, to allow the doors to rust shut, to lie on my bed in some gown-shaped garment and let my hair lengthens and spread out over the pillow and my fingernails to sprout into claws, while candle wax drips onto the carpet. But long ago I made a choice between classicism and romanticism. I prefer to be upright and containedโan urn in daylight.
Margaret AtwoodI never have [suffered writerโs block], although Iโve had books that didnโt work out. I had to stop writing them. I just abandoned them. It was depressing, but it wasnโt the end of the world. When it really isnโt working, and youโve been bashing yourself against the wall, itโs kind of a relief. I mean, sometimes you bash yourself against the wall and you get through it. But sometimes the wall is just a wall. Thereโs nothing to be done but go somewhere else.
Margaret AtwoodScience never makes things that do not have to do with what we feel, by which I mean what we want and what we fear.
Margaret AtwoodHuman understanding is fallible, and we see through a glass, darkly. Any religion is a shadow of God. But the shadows of God are not God.
Margaret AtwoodWhatโs with her?โ says the painter. โSheโs mad because sheโs a woman,โ Jon says. This is something I havenโt heard for years, not since high school. Once it was a shaming thing to say, and crushing to have it said about you, by a man. It implied oddness, deformity, sexual malfunction. I go to the living room doorway. โIโm not mad because Iโm a woman,โ I say. โIโm mad because youโre an asshole.
Margaret Atwood