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Angela Carter Biography

Angela Olive Carter-Pearce (née Stalker; 7 May 1940 – 16 February 1992), who published as Angela Carter, was an English novelist, short story writer and journalist, known for her feminist, magical realism, and picaresque works. In 2008, The Times ranked Carter tenth in their list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945". In 2012, Nights at the Circus was selected as the best ever winner of the James Tait Black Memorial Prize.

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Angela Carter Quotes

How far does a pretence of feeling, maintained with absolute conviction, become authentic?

Feelings, Doe, Conviction, Authentic, Become

A broken heart is never a tragedy. Only untimely death is a tragedy.

Broken, Heart, Tragedy

The notion of a universality of human experience is a confidence trick and the notion of a universality of female experience is a clever confidence trick.

Clever, Experience, Female, Universality

She stood lost in eternity. . . watching the immense sky.

Eternity, Immense, Lost, Sky, Stood, Watching

Mother is in herself a concrete denial of the idea of sexual pleasure since her sexuality has been placed at the service of reproductive function alone. She is the perpetually violated passive principle; her autonomy has been sufficiently eroded by the presence within her of the embryo she brought to term. Her unthinking ability to reproduce, which is her pride, is, since it is beyond choice, not a specific virtue of her own.

Mother, Pride, Ideas, Violated, Placed, Denial

If the Barbarians are destroyed, who will we then be able to blame for the bad things?

Able, Bad, Barbarians, Blame, Things

Sad; so sad, those smoky-rose, smoky-mauve evenings of late Autumn, sad enough to pierce the heart.

Sad, Heart, Autumn, Pierce, Evenings

Your green eye is a reducing chamber. If I look into it long enough, I wil become as small as my own reflection, I will diminish to a point and vanish. I will be drawn down into that black whirlpool and be consumed by you. I shall become so small you can keep me in one of your osier cages and mock my loss of liberty.

Drawn, Eye, Loss, Reducing, Reflection

I should have liked to have had him beside me in a glass coffin, so that I could watch him all the time and he would not have been able to get away from me.

Away, Glasses, Liked, Should Have, Watch, Watches

Though I still turn up my coat-collar in a lonely way and am always looking at myself in mirrors, they’re only habits and give no clue at all to my character, whatever that is. The most difficult performance in the world is acting naturally isn’t it? Everything else is artful.

Character, Lonely, Mirrors, Naturally

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, when middle-class women were supposed to be wonderful wives and mothers, gracious hostesses. . . . I used to feel so womanly when I was baking my filthy bread.

Mother, Class, Wife, Desolating, Bake, Prior

Soon, nostalgia will be another name for Europe.

Europe, Name, Names, Nostalgia

His main principles were indeed as follows: everything it is possible to imagine can also exist.

Exist, Follows, Imagine, Possible, Principles

Mother goddesses are just as silly a notion as father gods. If a revival of the myths of these cults gives woman emotional satisfaction, it does so at the price of obscuring the real conditions of life. This is why they were invented in the first place.

God, Goddesses, Life, Mother, Revival, Woman

There are lots of things that you can brush under the carpet about yourself until you're faced with somebody whose needs won't be put off.

Knowledge, Needs, Brushes, Under, Brush, Faced

Among the monsters, I am well hidden; who looks for a leaf in a forest?

Forest, Forests, Hidden, Leaf, Looks, Monsters

It shone on everyone, whether they had a contract or not. The most democratic thing I'd ever seen, that California sunshine.

California, Contracts, Shone, Sunshine

For most of human history, 'literature,' both fiction and poetry, has been narrated, not written — heard, not read. So fairy tales, folk tales, stories from the oral tradition, are all of them the most vital connection we have with the imaginations of the ordinary men and women whose labor created our world.

Imagination, Labor, Men, Our World, Poetry, World

In the mythic schema of all relations between men and women, man proposes, and woman is disposed of.

Proposes, Relationship, Schemas, Woman, Women

I am entirely alone. I and my shadow fill the universe.

Alone, Entirely, Fill, Shadow, Universe

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