Angela Carter
Angela Carter
Angela Olive Carter-Pearcewho published as Angela Carter, was an English novelist, short story writer and journalist, known for her feminist, magical realism, and picaresque works. In 2008, The Times ranked Carter tenth in their list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945". In 2012, Nights at the Circus was selected as the best ever winner of the James Tait Black Memorial Prize...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth7 May 1940
sky eternity lost
She stood lost in eternity... watching the immense sky...
book writing ideas
A book is simply the container of an idea-like a bottle; what is inside the book is what matters.
culture language-and-power instruments
Language is power, life and the instrument of culture, the instrument of domination and liberation.
new-york sex men
Cities have sexes: London is a man, Paris a woman, and New York a well-adjusted transsexual.
angel thinking culture
I think it's one of the scars in our culture that we have too high an opinion of ourselves. We align ourselves with the angels instead of the higher primates.
humanity rags scarecrow
We must all make do with the rags of love we find flapping on the scarecrow of humanity.
eggs salt argument
A day without an argument is like an egg without salt.
literature pins hypothesis
To pin your hopes upon the future is to consign those hopes to a hypothesis, which is to say, a nothingness. Here and now is what we must contend with.
taken world commodity
In a world where women are commodities, a woman who refuses to sell herself will have the thing she refuses to sell taken away from her by force
europe names nostalgia
Soon, nostalgia will be another name for Europe.
sunshine california contracts
It shone on everyone, whether they had a contract or not. The most democratic thing I'd ever seen, that California sunshine.
girl eye moon
She said to the Daisy girl with her big brown eyes: 'I will not have it plain. No. Fancy. It must be fancy!' She meant her future. A moon-daisy dropped to the floor, down from her hair, like a faintly derisive sign from heaven.
girl children lovely
The lovely Hazard girls', they used to call them. Huh. Lovely is as lovely does; if they looked like what they behave like, they'd frighten little children.
father book soul
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.