Quotes from Angela Carter

My fays shall lullaby you as we cuddle up on my mattress of dandelion down.

We do not go to bed in single pairs; even if we choose not to refer to them, we still drag there with us the cultural impedimenta of our social class, our parents' lives, our bank balances, our sexual and emotional expectations, our whole biographies / all the bits and pieces of our unique existences.

The real value of a sexually attractive woman in a world which regards good looks as a commodity depends on the degree to which she puts her looks to work for her.

Not many people can boast a photo of their grandmother posing for kiddiporn.

They say there's an ointment the Devil gives you that turns you into a wolf the minute you rub it on.

Sometimes it was possible for me to believe he had practised an enchantment upon me, as foxes in this country may, for, here, a fox can masquerade as human and at the best of times the high cheekbones gave to his face the aspect of a mask.

The piety, the gentleness, the honesty, the sensitivity, all the qualities she has learned to admire in herself, are invitations to violence; all her life, she has been groomed for the slaughterhouse. And though she is virtuous, she does not know how to do good.

I will tell you what she was like. She was like a piano in a country where everyone has had their hands cut off.

I've changed a lot since 1969, and so has the world; I'm more benign, the world is far bleaker, and the people in Love would now be edging nervously up to the middle age they thought could never happen, they thought the world would end first.

Her face. And she smiling. For a moment, just that moment, you would have thought it was May morning.

And I could believe that it has been the same with him; he was alive from the desire of the woods.

How can she bear the pain of becoming human? The end of exile is the end of being.

Below me, in spreading, concentric circles, like those a fish makes when it rises in still water, spun round the lower tiers; above me arched the black sky pierced by the gas jets of the stars.

Marianne had sharp, cold eyes and she was spiteful but her father loved her.

Swahili storytellers believe that women are incorrigibly wicked, diabolically cunning and sexually insatiable; I hope this is true, for the sake of the women.

step between the gateposts of the forest with the greatest trepidation and infinite precautions, for if you stray from the path for one instant, the wolves will eat you. They are grey as famine, they are as unkind as plague. The

It was the fault of the wedding-dress night, when she married the shadows and the world ended.

A free woman in an unfree society will be a monster. Her freedom will be a condition of personal privilege that deprives those on which she exercises it of her own freedom. The most extreme kind of this deprivation is murder. These women murder.

She walked in technicolor.

Most intellectual development depends upon new readings of old texts. I am all for putting new wine in old bottles, especially if the pressure of the new wine makes the bottles explode.

October, crisp, misty, golden October, when the light is sweet and heavy.

For Sade, all tenderness is false, a deceit, a trap; all pleasure contains within itself the seeds of atrocities; all beds are minefields.

The earth turned on the pivot of her mouth.

My father lost me to the Beast at cards