How were we to know we were happy?
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
The way love feels is always only approximate. I would like to be without shame. I would like to be shameless. I would like to be ignorant. Then I would not know how ignorant I was.
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
Possible, impossible. What could be done? We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
The tulips along the border are redder than ever, opening, no longer wine cups but chalices; thrusting themselves up, to what end? They are, after all, empty. When they are old they turn themselves inside out, explode slowly, the petals thrown like shards.
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
I was nervous. How was I to know he loved me? It might be just an affair. Why did we ever say just? Though at that time men and women tried each other on, casually, like suits, rejecting whatever did not fit.
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
On the top of my desk there are initials, carved into the wood, and dates...This carving, done with a pencil dug many times into the warn varnish of the desk, has the pathos of all vanished civilizations. It's like a handprint on stone. Whoever made this was once alive.
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
I find the entrance to the women's washroom...There's a rest area, gently lit in pinkish tones, with several easy chairs and a sofa, in a lime-green bamboo-shoot print, with a wall clock above it in a gold filigree frame. Here they haven't removed the mirror, there's a long one opposite the sofa. You need to know, here, what you look like.
Margaret AtwoodTags: the-handmaid-s-tale
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