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If Miss means respectably unmarried, and Mrs. respectably married, then Ms. means nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

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
Miss
Missing
Married
Respect
Means
Winking
Women
Wink
Mean
Unmarried
Nudge

More quotes by Angela Carter

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Pornographers are the enemies of women only because our contemporary ideology of pornography does not encompass the possibility of change, as if we were the slaves of history and not its makers. . . . Pornography is a satire on human pretensions.
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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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Hollywood... was the place where the United States perpetrated itself as a universal dream and put the dream into mass production.
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Just because we're sisters under the skin doesn't mean we've got much in common.
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In the mythic schema of all relations between men and women, man proposes, and woman is disposed of.
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Aeneas carried his aged father on his back from the ruins of Troy and so do we all, whether we like it or not, perhaps even if we have never known them.
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I had the brief notion that his heart, pressed flat as a flower, crimson and thin as tissue paper, lay in this file. It was a very thin one.
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The child's laughter is pure until he first laughs at a clown.
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His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.
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Women's sexy underwear is a minor but significant growth industry of late-twentieth-century Britain in the twilight of capitalism.
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Love is desire sustained by unfulfilment.
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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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For hours, for days, for years, she had wandered endlessly within herself but never met anybody, nobody.
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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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I think I want to be in love with you but I don't know how.
Angela Carter
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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.
Angela Carter
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Fine art, that exists for itself alone, is art in a final state of impotence. If nobody, including the artist, acknowledges art as a means of knowing the world, then art is relegated to a kind of rumpus room of the mind and the irresponsibility of the artist and the irrelevance of art to actual living becomes part and parcel of the practice of art.
Angela Carter
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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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He is, I think, already pondering a magisterial project: that of buggering the English language, the ultimate revenge of the colonialised.
Angela Carter