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and each of his voices left his body in a different colored soul and floated up towards the sun still singing.

Margaret Atwood

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Margaret Atwood
Age: 85
Born: 1939
Born: November 18
Essayist
Inventor
Literary Critic
Non-Fiction Writer
Novelist
Pedagogue
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Ottawa (Ontario)
Margaret Eleanor Atwood
Left
Stills
Floated
Still
Colored
Body
Voices
Soul
Towards
Different
Sun
Singing
Voice

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What we share may be a lot like a traffic accident but we get one another. We are survivors of each other. We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something.
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No one knows what cuases an outer landscape to become an inner one.
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You can’t buy it, but it has a price,” said Oryx. “Everything has a price.
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Life's not fair why should I be?
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I began to forget myself in the middle of sentences.
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A voice is a human gift it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together.
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I don't want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.
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Most mothers worry when their daughters reach adolescence but I was the opposite. I relaxed, I sighed with relief. Little girls are cute and small only to adults. To one another they are not cute. They are life sized.
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In Paradise there are no stories, because there are no journeys.
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Some days I do appreciate things more, eggs, flowers, but then I decide I'm only having an attack of sentimentality, my brain going pastel Technicolor, like a beautiful-sunset greeting cards they used to make so many of in California. High-gloss hearts. The danger is grayout.
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... all this talking, this rather liquid confessing, was something I didn't think I could ever bring myself to do. It seemed foolhardy to me, like an uncooked egg deciding to to come out of its shell: there would be a risk of spreading out too far, turning into a formless puddle.
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I am not your justification for existence.
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We thought we were running away from the grownups, and now we are the grownups.
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Short forms are returning online. Interactivity is coming back it was always there in oral storytelling. Each form has its pluses and its minuses.
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In the animal world individuals cheat, as do we.
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When things are really dismal, you can laugh, or you can cave in completely.
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In the evenings there's been thunder, a distant bumping and stumbling, like God on a sullen binge.
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Knowledge is power only as long as you keep your mouth shut.
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