October 24th, 2012
When you are in the middle of a story it isn’t a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass and splintered wood; like a house in a whirlwind, or else a boat crushed by the icebergs or swept over the rapids, and all aboard powerless to stop it. It’s only afterwards that it becomes anything like a story at all. When you are telling it, to yourself or to someone else.
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood

∞04:30 pm, by lostinthesounds ∩36
[Quote] [Book Quote] [Alias Grace] [1996] [Margaret Atwood]
Notes
  1. mauerbauer reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  2. ciel-infini reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  3. tormentedthrenodist reblogged this from transcendentthorn
  4. transcendentthorn reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  5. bushrax3 reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  6. avvhiteblankpage reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  7. literaryabortions reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  8. wecantalkornottalkforhours reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  9. bestknownfact reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  10. saturdaysandtherocketsummer reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  11. ambulatoire-perdu reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  12. preciousjules reblogged this from lostinthesounds
  13. lostinthesounds posted this