Death always comes without knocking. Why now? is the cry. Why so soon? It’s the cry of a child being called home at dusk, it’s the universal protest against Time. Just remember, dear Friends: What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question.

— Margaret Atwood

Margaret Atwood Quotes

Even the village had too many people for him, he needed an island, a place where he could recreate not the settled farm life of his own father but that of the earliest ones who arrived when there was nothing but forest and no ideologies but the ones they brought with them. When they say Freedom they never quite mean it, what they mean is freedom from interference.

— Margaret Atwood

I can’t make sense out of them. The handwriting is my father’s, but changed, more hasty or careless.

— Margaret Atwood

You yourself would never have done such things! But you yourself will never have had to.

— Margaret Atwood

This is the forgotten possibility: he might have gone insane. Crazy, loony. Bushed, the trappers call it when you stay in the forest by yourself too long. And if insane, perhaps not dead: none of the rules would be the same.

— Margaret Atwood

My mother was a saver: rubber bands, string, safety pins, jam jars, for her the Depression never ended.

— Margaret Atwood

You didn’t even look at it!” I would whine. “Yes, I did, my treasure. It’s very aesthetic.” “I was watching! Your back was turned!” “Who says you need eyes for seeing?

— Margaret Atwood

He thinks of Elizabeth, briefly, with detachment. For a moment she’s someone he once knew. He wonders what has become of her. It’s the walks they never took, the fields he could never convince her to enter he regrets now.

— Margaret Atwood

Perhaps she’ll only be surprised, and possibly not even that. He anticipates this moment, which he cannot predict, which leaves room for hope and also for disaster.

— Margaret Atwood

Women do not usually write novels of the type favoured by men but men are known to write novels of the type favoured by women. Some people find this odd.

— Margaret Atwood

He smiles most of the time and has eyes that the naive might think of as candid.

— Margaret Atwood

China is not paradise; paradise does not exist. Even the Chinese know it, they must know it, they live there. Like cavemen, they paint not what they see but what they want.

— Margaret Atwood

It did make a mess; but then, I don’t think I’ll ever be a very tidy person.

— Margaret Atwood

The dark torpedo shapes of the fish are seeing it, sniffing at it, prodding it with their noses. I believe in them the way other people believe in God: I can’t see them but I know they are there.

— Margaret Atwood

It’s the turnips in their innocent rows, ordinary, lit from within, the praise lavished on mere tomatoes, the bunches of grapes, painted in all their translucent hues. As if they are worth it.

— Margaret Atwood

I stare into the water, it was always a kind of meditation. My brother fished by technique, he outguessed them, but I fished by prayer, listening. Our father who art in heaven Please let the fish be caught. Later when I knew that wouldn’t work, just Please be caught, invocation or hypnosis. He got more fish but I could pretend mine were willing, they had chosen to die and forgiven me in advance.

— Margaret Atwood

He said Jesus was a historical figure and God was a superstition, and a superstition was a thing that didn’t exist.

— Margaret Atwood

Every breath we inhale comes from nature; kill it and we kill ourselves.

— Margaret Atwood

This is a pattern humankind has repeated many times over the course of its history. When there is a crisis, whether real or imagined, culprits – whether real or imagined – must be found and eliminated.

— Margaret Atwood

Occasionally I do cry for no reason, as it says you are supposed to. But I can’t believe in my own sadness, I can’t take it seriously. I watch myself crying in the mirror, intrigued by the sight of tears.

— Margaret Atwood

You think I didn’t hate their pity, their forced kindness? And knowing that no matter what I did, how virtuous I was, or hardworking, I would never be beautiful. Not like her, the one who merely had to sit there to be adored. You wonder why I stabbed the blue eyes of my dolls with pins and pulled their hair out until they were bald? Life isn’t fair. Why should I be?

— Margaret Atwood
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