Learning to love differently is hard, love with the hands wide open, love with the doors banging on their hinges, the cupboard unlocked, the windroaring and whimpering in the rooms. — Marge Piercy Copy Share Image
“To Have Without Holding: Learning to love differently is hard, love with the hands wide open, love with the doors banging on their hinges, the cupboard unlocked, the wind roaring and whimpering in the rooms rustling the sheets and snapping… — Marge Piercy Copy Share Image
The anger of the weak never goes away, Professor, it just gets a little moldy. It molds like a beautiful blue cheese in the… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
“The people I love the best jump into work head first without dallying in the shallows and swim off with sure strokes almost out… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
Every poet has a certain amount of "stuff." That's what you draw from for imagery. The more stuff you know well, not simply intellectually… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
the body is simple as a turtle / and straight as a dog: / the body cannot lie. — Marge Piercy Copy Share
We must shine with hope, stained glass windows that shape light into icons, glow like lanterns borne before a procession. Who can bear hope… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
Remember that every son had a mother whose beloved son he was, and every woman had a mother whose beloved son she wasn't. — Marge Piercy Copy Share
We live in a media soup and are constantly being programmed or are fighting that programming. Thus any truthful account of a life, every… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
The moon is always female and so am I although often in the vale of razorblades I have wished I could put on and… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
Sometimes when a character in a novel is difficult for me to enter, I sue something in myself or in my own life as… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
Doorways are sacred to women for we are the doorways of life and we must choose what comes in and what goes out. — Marge Piercy Copy Share
“Writing sometimes feels frivolous and sometimes sacred, but memory is one of my strongest muses. I serve her with my words. So long as… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
The work of the world is common as mud. Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust. But the thing worth doing well done… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
We're herded into schools and terrified into behaving. Taught how we're supposed to pretend to be, taught to parrot all kinds of nonsense at… — Marge Piercy Copy Share
