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Moonlight, white satin, roses. A bride.

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
White
Satin
Bride
Brides
Moonlight
Roses
Rose

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There is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.
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The kind of power mothers have is enormous. Take the skyline of Istanbul - enormous breasts, pathetic little willies, a final revenge on Islam. I was so scared I had to crouch in the bottom of the boat when I saw it.
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Is not this world an illusion? And yet it fools everybody.
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Love is desire sustained by unfulfilment.
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I desire therefore I exist.
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It's every woman's tragedy, that, after a certain age, she looks like a female impersonator. Mind you, we've known some lovely female impersonators, in our time.
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It shone on everyone, whether they had a contract or not. The most democratic thing I'd ever seen, that California sunshine.
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All artists, they say, are a little mad. This madness is, to a certain extent, a self-created myth designed to keep the generality away from the phenomenally close-knit creative community. Yet, in the world of the artists, the consciously eccentric are always respectful and admiring if those who have the courage to be genuinely a little mad.
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At the best of times, spring hurts depressives.
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The tiger will never lie down with the lamb he acknowledges no pact that is not reciprocal. The lamb must learn to run with the tigers.
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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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The only time I ever iron the sheets or make meringues is when there is an ... urgent deadline in the offing.
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A mother is always a mother, since a mother is a biological fact, whilst a father is a movable feast.
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Stars on our door, stars in our eyes, stars exploding in the bits of our brains where the common sense should have been
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The kind of power mothers have is enormous.
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A young girl would go into the wood as trustingly as Red Riding Hood to her granny's house but this light admits no ambiguities and, here, she will be trapped in her own illusion because everything in the woods is exactly as it seems.
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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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Your green eye is a reducing chamber. If I look into it long enough, I wil become as small as my own reflection, I will diminish to a point and vanish. I will be drawn down into that black whirlpool and be consumed by you. I shall become so small you can keep me in one of your osier cages and mock my loss of liberty.
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