When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that.
("The Handmaid's Tale")
More Quotes from Margaret Atwood:Jimmy had been full of himself back then, thinks Snowman with indulgence and a little envy. HeÆd been unhappy too, of course. It went without saying, his unhappiness. HeÆd put a lot of energy into it.
I suppose it's everyone's fate to be reduced to quaintness by those younger than themselves.
You can think clearly only with your clothes on.
Or heÆd watch the news: more plagues, more famines, more floods, more insect or microbe or small-mammal outbreaks, more droughts, more chickenshit boy-soldier wars in distant countries. Why was everything so much like itself?
These things sneak up on him for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency.
He stops, looks up at this window, and I can see the white oblong of his face. We look at each other. I have no rose to toss, he has no lute. But it's the same kind of hunger.
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