Category: Book The Handmaid S Tale

But there is no point to it, this wanting. The Handmaid’s Tale 0 Don’t let the bastards grind you down.’ I The Handmaid’s Tale 0 I feel like cotton candy: sugar and air. Squeeze me and I’d turn into a small sickly damp wad of weeping pinky-red. I The Handmaid’s Tale 0 To have them…

I try not to think too much. Like other things now, thought must be rationed The Handmaid’s Tale 9 The willow is full plumage and is no help, with its insinuating whispers.Rendevous, it says. Terraces;the sibilants run up my spine, a shiver as if in fever. The summer dress rustles against the flesh of my…

The more difficult it was to love the particular man beside us, the more we believed in Love, abstract and total. We were waiting, always, for the incarnation. That word, made flesh. And sometimes it happened, for a time. That kind of love comes and goes and is hard to remember afterwards, like pain. You…

El invierno no es tan peligroso. Necesito la insensibilidad, el frío, la rigidez; no esta pesadez, como si yo fuera un melón sobre un tallo, esta madurez líquida. The Handmaid’s Tale 0 it, something naughty, secretive, forbidden, thrilling. It’s like a spell, of sorts. It deflates them, reduces them to the common denominator where they…

But a chair, sunlight, flowers: these are not to be dismissed. I am alive, I live, I breath, I put my hand out, unfolded, into the sunlight. Where I am is not a prison but a privilege… The Handmaid’s Tale 1 at a time, a quick move of the head, up and down, to the…

…women on their own, making up their minds. They wore blouses with buttons down the front that suggested the possibilities of the word undone. These women could be undone; or not. They seemed to be able to choose. We seemed to be able to choose, then. We were a society of dying, said Aunt Lydia,…

palimpsest The Handmaid’s Tale 0 I consider these things idly. Each one of them seems the same size as all the others. Not one seems preferable. Fatigue is here, in my body, in my legs and eyes. That is what gets you in the end. Faith is only a word, embroidered.   I look out…

Last week they shot a woman, right about here. She was a Martha. She was fumbling in her robe, for her pass, and they thought she was hunting for a bomb. They thought she was a man in disguise. There have been such incidents. Rita and Cora knew the woman. I heard them talking about…