Fine art, that exists for itself alone, is art in a final state of impotence. If nobody, including the artist, acknowledges art as a means of knowing the world, then art is relegated to a kind of rumpus room of the mind and the irresponsibility of the artist and the irrelevance of art to actual living becomes part and parcel of the practice of art.
And, oh God, in my misspent youth as a housewife, I, too, used to bake bread, in those hectic and desolating days just prior to the woman's movement,… - Angela Carter
And, oh God, in my misspent youth as a housewife, I, too, used to bake bread, in those hectic and desolating days just prior to the woman's movement,…
- Angela Carter
Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself. You bring to a novel, anything you read, all your experience of the world. You bring your history … - Angela Carter
Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself. You bring to a novel, anything you read, all your experience of the world. You bring your history …
Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself. - Angela Carter
Reading a book is like re-writing it for yourself.
What would the daughters of the rich do with themselves if the poor ceased to exist? - Angela Carter
What would the daughters of the rich do with themselves if the poor ceased to exist?
She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very f… - Angela Carter
She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very f…
In a world where women are commodities, a woman who refuses to sell herself will have the thing she refuses to sell taken away from her by force - Angela Carter
In a world where women are commodities, a woman who refuses to sell herself will have the thing she refuses to sell taken away from her by force
How far does a pretence of feeling, maintained with absolute conviction, become authentic? - Angela Carter
How far does a pretence of feeling, maintained with absolute conviction, become authentic?
There was a house we all had in common and it was called the past, even though we'd lived in different rooms. - Angela Carter
There was a house we all had in common and it was called the past, even though we'd lived in different rooms.
I desire therefore I exist. - Angela Carter
I desire therefore I exist.
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