I'm probably the only novelist who has ever written about political fugitives who actually knew a lot about them, had contact with them, and had a realistic notion of how they survived. — Marge Piercy Copy Share Image
Where I came from, the nights I had wandered and survived scared them, and where I would go they never imagined. — 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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
the body is simple as a turtle / and straight as a dog: / the body cannot lie. — Marge Piercy Copy Share Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
