Another belief of mine: that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.— Margaret Atwood, Cat’s Eye
But a chair, sunlight, flowers: these are not to be dismissed. I am alive, I live, I breathe, I put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight.— Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale
I was sand, I was snow — written on, rewritten, smoothed over.— Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
I was sand, I was snow — written on, rewritten, smoothed over.— Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin
I’m not sure which is worse: intense feeling, or the absence of it.— Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin