Quote

Your anger was a climate I inhabited like a desert in a dry frigid weather of high thin air and ivory sun, sand dunes the wind lifted into stinging clouds that blinded and choked me where the only ice was in the blood.

Marge Piercy

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Marge Piercy
Age: 88
Born: 1936
Born: March 31
Activist
Climate Activist
Feminist
Novelist
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Detroit
Michigan
Blood
Desert
Inhabited
High
Weather
Ivory
Like
Clouds
Blinded
Anger
Lifted
Climate
Dry
Dunes
Sun
Thin
Stinging
Air
Ice
Frigid
Wind
Sand
Choked

More quotes by Marge Piercy

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The incidence of violent brand-loyalty to one's own current dogma has risen.
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Sometimes when a character in a novel is difficult for me to enter, I sue something in myself or in my own life as a doorway into that character's mind and emotions.
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We live in a media soup and are constantly being programmed or are fighting that programming. Thus any truthful account of a life, every part of a life, is about society as well as an individual.
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Our wedding plans please everybody as if we were fertilizing the earth and creating social luck.
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Any life is lived in a particular time and place. Every life is impacted by the family's socio-economic circumstances, and, in later life, by the person's.
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There are obviously a great many ways to organize some fraction of the material in a life.
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You are built to pull a cart, to lift a heavy load and bear it, to haul up the long slope, and so am I, peasant bodies, earthy, solid shapely dark glazed clay pots that can stand on the fire.
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Art is a game only if you playat it, a mirror that reflects from the inside out.
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I am a driven writer. I feel guilty if I don't write, not self-indulgent if I do.
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Writing is a futile attempt to preserve what disappears moment by moment.
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A new idea is rarely born like Venus attended by graces. More commonly it's modeled of baling wire and acne. More commonly it wheezes and tips over.
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I have no connections here only gusty collisions, rootless seedlings forced into bloom, that collapse. ... I am the Visiting Poet: a real unicorn, a wind-up plush dodo, a wax museum of the Movement. People want to push the buttons and see me glow.
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Too much self-regard has never struck me as dignified: trying to twist over my shoulder to view my own behind.
Marge Piercy
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Suspense is one of the ways you persuade a reader to become engaged and stay engaged with your work.
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Shared laughter is erotic too.
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Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.
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This life is a war we are not yet winning for our daughters' children. Don't do your enemies' work for them. Finish your own.
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The real writer is one who really writes.
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In her bottled up is a woman peppery as curry, a yam of a woman of butter and brass.
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The politics of the exile are fever, revenge, daydream, theater of the aging convalescent. You wait in the wings and rehearse. You wait and wait.
Marge Piercy