30 Total Quotes

Marge Piercy Quotes

My strength and my weakness are twins in the same womb.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Strength

It is not sex that gives the pleasure, but the lover.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Pleasure

This life is a war we are not yet winning for our daughters' children./ Don't do your enemies' work for them./ Finish your own.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#Children

Never doubt that you can change history. You already have.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

The pitcher cries for water to carry and a person for work that is real.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

The real writer is one who really writes. Talent is an invention like phlogiston after the fact of fire. Work is its own cure. You have to like it better than being loved.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Fire

Sleeping together is a euphemism for people, but tantamount to marriage with cats
Marge Piercy Permalink
#Cats

A strong woman is a woman determined to do something others are determined not be done.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Woman

It you want to be listened to, you should put in time listening
Marge Piercy Permalink
#Listening

All women are misfits. We do not fit into this world without amputations.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Women

Shared laughter is erotic too
Marge Piercy Permalink
#Laughter

Burning dinner is not incompetence but war
Marge Piercy Permalink
#Incompetence

Love as if you liked yourself, and it may happen.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Love #Quote of the Day

When I work I am pure as an angel tiger and clear is my eye and hot my brain and silent all the whining grunting piglets of the appetites.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer #Work

Long hair is considered bohemian, which may be why I grew it, but I keep it long because I love the way it feels, part cloak, part fan, part mane, part security blanket.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

Burning dinner is not incompetence but war.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

If you want to be listened to, you should put in time listening.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

Shared laughter is erotic too.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

Sleeping together is a euphemism for people, but tantamount to marriage with cats.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#American Writer

The woman in the ordinary pudgy downcast girl is crouching with eyes and muscles clenched. Round and pebble smooth she effaces herself under ripples of conversation and debate. The woman in the block of ivory soap has massive thighs that neigh, great breasts that blare and strong arms that trumpet. The woman of the golden fleece laughs uproariously from the belly inside the girl who imitates a Christmas card virgin with glued hands, who fishes for herself in other's eyes, who stoops and creeps to make herself smaller. In her bottled up is a woman peppery as curry, a yam of a woman of butter and brass, compounded of acid and sweet like a pineapple, like a handgrenade set to explode, like goldenrod ready to bloom.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#Poems about Women

And thus the people every year in the valley of humid July did sacrifice themselves to the long green phallic god and eat and eat and eat. They're coming, they're on us, the long striped gourds, the silky babies, the hairy adolescents, the lumpy vast adults like the trunks of green elephants. Recite fifty zucchini recipes! Zucchini tempura; creamed soup; sauté with olive oil and cumin, tomatoes, onion; frittata; casserole of lamb; baked topped with cheese; marinated; stuffed; stewed; driven through the heart like a stake. Get rid of old friends: they too have gardens and full trunks. Look for newcomers: befriend them in the post office, unload on them and run. Stop tourists in the street. Take truckloads to Boston. Give to your Red Cross. Beg on the highway: please take my zucchini, I have a crippled mother at home with heartburn. Sneak out before dawn to drop them in other people's gardens, in baby buggies at churchdoors. Shot, smuggling zucchini into mailboxes, a federal offense. With a suave reptilian glitter you bask among your raspy fronds sudden and huge as alligators. You give and give too much, like summer days limp with heat, thunderstorms bursting their bags on our heads, as we salt and freeze and pickle for the too little to come.
Marge Piercy Permalink
#People