Margaret Atwood Quotes About Home

Quotes about: Home

• That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn't even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn't even an enemy you could put your finger on.

  Margaret Atwood

  Home, Night, People

  FaceBook post by Margaret Atwood from Feb 20, 2017

• All fathers are invisible in daytime; daytime is ruled by mothers and fathers come out at night. Darkness brings home fathers, with their real, unspeakable power. There is more to fathers than meets the eye.

  Margaret Atwood

  Daughter, Mother, Father

• Today on the way home, it snows. Big, soft caressing flakes fall onto our skin like cold moths; the air fills with feathers.

  Margaret Atwood

  Fall, Home, Air

  Margaret Atwood (1988). “Cat's eye”, Doubleday, 1989

• A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.

  Margaret Atwood

  Crush, Home, Emptiness

  Margaret Atwood (2007). “The Tent”, p.25, Anchor

• Home is where the heart is, I thought now, gathering myself together in Betty's Luncheonette. I had no heart any more, it had been broken; or not broken, it simply wasn't there any more. It had been scooped neatly out of me like the yolk from a hard-boiled egg, leaving the rest of me bloodless and congealed and hollow. I'm heartless, I thought. Therefore I'm homeless.

  Margaret Atwood

  Home, Heart, Eggs

  Margaret Atwood (2007). “The Blind Assassin: A Novel”, p.447, Anchor

• Nature full strength is more than we can take, Adam One used to say. It's a potent hallucinogen, a soporific, for the untrained Soul. We're no longer at home in it. We need to dilute it. We can't drink it straight. And God is the same. Too much God and you overdose. God needs to be filtered.

  Margaret Atwood

  Home, Soul, Needs

  Margaret Atwood (2009). “The Year of the Flood”, p.326, Anchor

• No matter how much you've been warned, 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.

  Margaret Atwood

  Death, Children, Home

  Margaret Atwood (2009). “The Year of the Flood”, p.325, Anchor

• In the First World War, people would be receiving letters from loved ones who had been dead for weeks, and they would not know until that black-bordered telegram arrived. I remember, of course, when it was letters only, or the telephone, and you did not make expensive long-distance calls unless it was, "Come home to the funeral," or the like.

  Margaret Atwood

  War, Distance, Home

  Source: www.macleans.ca

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