Marge Piercy
Marge Piercy
Marge Piercyis an American poet, novelist, and social activist. Piercy is the author of Woman on the Edge of Time; He, She and It, which won the 1993 Arthur C. Clarke Award; and Gone to Soldiers, a New York Times Best Seller and sweeping historical novel set during World War II...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth31 March 1936
CountryUnited States of America
strong-women eye justice
A strong woman is a woman at work, cleaning out the cesspool of the ages, and while she shovels, she talks about how she doesn't mind crying, it opens the ducts of the eyes, and throwing up develops the stomach muscles, and she goes on shoveling with tears in her nose.
sleep cat people
Sleeping together is a euphemism for people, but tantamount to marriage with cats.
cures being-loved
Work is its own cure. You have to like it better than being loved.
glasses steel use
The will to be totally rational is the will to be made out of glass and steel: and to use others as if they were glass and steel.
night anxiety scared
Where I came from, the nights I had wandered and survived scared them, and where I would go they never imagined.
women people firsts
The people I love the best, jump into work head first without dallying in the shallows.
slim diets dies
On this twelfth day of my diet I would rather die satiated than slim.
moving dust hands
I want to be with people who submerge in the task, who go into the fields to harvest and work in a row and pass the bags along, who are not parlor generals and field deserters but move in a common rhythm when the food must come in or the fire be put out. The work of the world is common as mud. Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust. But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
character thinking different
I think that if you use something from you life in fiction, it metamorphosizes into something strange and different. Afterward it is hard to tell what actually was part of your life and what is part of the story of the fictional character.
beautiful mother grateful
Now that I am in my forties, she [my mother] tells me I'm beautiful; now that I am in my forties, she sends me presents and we have the long, personal and even remarkably honest phone calls I always wanted so intensely I forbade myself to imagine them. How strange. Perhaps Shaw was correct and if we lived to be several hundred years old, we would finally work it all out. I am deeply grateful. With my poems, I finally won even my mother. The longest wooing of my life.
mother remember quarrels
I don't even remember what Mother and I quarreled about: it is a continual quarrel that began when I reached puberty.
pain turn-me turns
Pain is a forcing sieve that turns me to gruel.
kids people type
People are very afraid of any controversy. We've become very passive spectator types. And when the kids were protesting globilization - quite reasonably - they really got bashed.
self views trying
Too much self-regard has never struck me as dignified: trying to twist over my shoulder to view my own behind.