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She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.
— Angela Carter
linguist, screenwriter, novelist, translator, journalist, science fiction writer, children's writer, writer, playwright, film screenwriter, poet
1940 – 1992
She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.
Nostalgia, the vice of the aged. We watch so many old movies our memories come in monochrome.
What is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many?
She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening. She has the mysterious solitude of ambiguous states; she hovers in a no-man’s land between life and death, sleeping and waking.
Throwing open the door, she brings forth the veritable queen of all the souffles, that spreads its archangelic wings over the entire kitchen as it leaps upwards from the dish in which the force of gravity alone confines it.
Women's sexy underwear is a minor but significant growth industry of late-twentieth-century Britain in the twilight of capitalism.
Comedy is tragedy that happens to other people.
Cities have sexes: London is a man, Paris a woman, and New York a well-adjusted transsexual.
A book is simply the container of an idea—like a bottle; what is inside the book is what matters.
Aeneas carried his aged father on his back from the ruins of Troy and so do we all, whether we like it or not, perhaps even if we have never known them.
My work cuts like a steel blade at the base of a man's penis.
Art need no longer be an account of past sensations. It can become the direct organization of more highly evolved sensations. It is a question of producing ourselves, not things that enslave us.
