“When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too—leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back.”
More from Margaret Atwood
“Pray for us, who once, too, thought we could fly.”
“Every love story is a tragedy if you wait long enough.”
“In this house, little things mean everything.”
“I should be ashamed of myself to take such delight in the suffering of others.”