She had no images of this love. She could offer no anecdotes. It was a belief rather than a memory. Author: Margaret Atwood Copy Quote More from Margaret Atwood “You might even provide a Heaven for them. We need You for that. Hell we can mak…” “For every year of peace there have been four hundred years of war.” “Your friend is intellectually honourable," Jimmy's mother would say. "He doesn'…” “If you can call it talking, these clipped whispers, projected through the funne…”