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There is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

Angela Carter

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Angela Carter
Age: 51 †
Born: 1940
Born: May 7
Died: 1992
Died: February 16
Author
Journalist
Linguist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Translator
Writer
Eastbourne
Sussex
Angela Olive Stalker Carter
Angela Olive Carter
Angela Olive Stalker
Angela Olive Pearce
Love
Torturer
Resemblance
Striking
Chamber

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The lovely Hazard girls', they used to call them. Huh. Lovely is as lovely does if they looked like what they behave like, they'd frighten little children.
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I know that whenever a group of women are gathered together, the grandmother always makes a phantom appearance, hovering above them.
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Pornography is a satire on human pretensions.
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And each stroke of his tongue ripped off skin after successive skin, all the skins of a life in the world, and left behind a nascent patina of shining hairs. My earrings turned back to water and trickled down my shoulders I shrugged the drops off my beautiful fur.
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It is far easier for a woman to lead a blameless life than it is for a man all she has to do is to avoid sexual intercourse like the plague.
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I see her as a series of marvellous shapes formed at random in the kaleidoscope of desire.
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Reciprocity of sensation is not possible because to share is to be robbed.
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I think it's one of the scars in our culture that we have too high an opinion of ourselves. We align ourselves with the angels instead of the higher primates.
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I think the adjective post-modernist really means mannerist. Books about books is fun but frivolous.
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Not for Moorcock the painful, infrequent excretion of dry little novels like so many rabbit pellets his is the grand, messy fluxitself, in all its heroic vulgarity, its unquenchable optimism, its enthusiasm for the inexhaustible variousness of things.
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Our fingernails match our toenails, match our lipstick match our rouge...The habit of applying warpaint outlasts the battle.
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One beast and only one howls in the woods by night.
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Language is power, life and the instrument of culture, the instrument of domination and liberation.
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Hope for the best, expect the worst.
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A book is simply the container of an idea-like a bottle what is inside the book is what matters.
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Why do you do up your hair in those tortured plaits, now, Melanie? Why? Because, she said. You know that's no answer. You're spoiling your pretty looks, pet. Come here. She did not move. He ground out his cigarette on the window-ledge and laughed. Come here, he said again, softly. So she went.
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Nostalgia, the vice of the aged. We watch so many old movies our memories come in monochrome.
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I will tell you what Jeanne was like. She was like a piano in a country where everyone has had their hands cut off.
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