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Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself.

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
Book
Writing
Like
Literacy
Reader
Reading

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A fairy tale is the kind of story in which one king goes to another king to borrow a cup of sugar
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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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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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Mother goddesses are just as silly a notion as father gods. If a revival of the myths of these cults gives woman emotional satisfaction, it does so at the price of obscuring the real conditions of life. This is why they were invented in the first place.
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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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That is what I'm looking forward to the most, practical learning. I want to be a registered nurse so getting to talk to people who already work in those jobs can really teach me what to expect when I get out in the real world.
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Is not this world an illusion? And yet it fools everybody.
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This lack of imagination gives his heroism to the hero.
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Spindly branches of buttercups were secreted among gleaming stems still moist at the roots from last night's rain that had washedand refreshed the entire wood, had dowered it in poignant transparency, the unique, inconsolable quality of rainy countries, as if all was glimpsed through tears.
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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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Language is power, life and the instrument of culture, the instrument of domination and liberation.
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Sad so sad, those smoky-rose, smoky-mauve evenings of late Autumn, sad enough to pierce the heart.
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A broken heart is never a tragedy. Only untimely death is a tragedy.
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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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Not many people can boast a photo of their grandmother posing for kiddiporn.
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The end of exile is the end of being.
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As for my father, few souls are less troubled. He can be simply pleased with us, pleased that we exist, and, from the vantage point of his wondrously serene old age, he contemplates our lives almost as if they were books he can dip into whenever he wants. His back pages, perhaps.
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The invisible is only another unexplored country, a brave new world.
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Comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.
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She stood lost in eternity wearing a crazy dress, watching the immense sky.
Angela Carter