While he writes, I feel as if he is drawing me; or not drawing me, drawing on me - drawing on my skin - not with the pencil he is using, but with an old-fashioned goose pen, and not with the quill end but with the feather end. As if hundreds of butterflies have settled all over my face, and are softly opening and closing their wings.
("Alias Grace")
More Quotes from Margaret Atwood:
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Happy as a clam, is what my mother says for happy. I am happy as a clam: hard-shelled, firmly closed.
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