Explore Quotes by Marge Piercy

Burning dinner is not incompetence but war.

Never doubt that you can change history. You already have.

If you want to be listened to, you should put in time listening.

Live as if you like yourself, and it may happen.

It is not sex that gives the pleasure, but the lover.

Remember that every son had a mother whose beloved son he was, and every woman had a mother whose beloved son she wasn't.

Where I came from, the nights I had wandered and survived scared them, and where I would go they never imagined.

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.

Work is its own cure. You have to like it better than being loved.

The best gift you can give is a hug: one size fits all and no one ever minds if you return it.

Sleeping together is a euphemism for people, but tantamount to marriage with cats.

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.

We lie in each other's arms eyes shut and fingers open and all the colors of the world pass through our bodies like strings of fire.

When she kissed him, he melted like a lump of milk chocolate.

Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.

The anger of the weak never goes away, Professor, it just gets a little moldy. It molds like a beautiful blue cheese in the dark, growing stronger, and more interesting. The poor and the weak die with all their anger intact and probably those angers go on growing in the dark of the grave like the hair and the nails.

Writing is a futile attempt to preserve what disappears moment by moment. All that remains of my mother is what I remember and what I have written for and about her. Eventually that is all that will remain of [my husband] and me. Writing sometimes feels frivolous and sometimes sacred, but memory is one of my strongest muses. I serve her with my words. So long as people read, those we love survive however evanescently. As do we writers, saying with our life's work, Remember. Remember us. Remember me.

Writing is a futile attempt to preserve what disappears moment by moment.

We can only know what we can truly imagine. Finally what we see comes from ourselves.

Nobody hates us as ourselves. In their minds we're not human... They don't hate us because we did something or said something. They make us stand for an evil they invent and then they want to kill it in us.

Every artist creates with open eyes what she sees in her dream.