6 Quotes by Marie Darrieussecq

There are times when you wake at dawn and check your neck for the marks of the vampire, those two little red dots, your pupils still contracted with hate, muscles weary from the struggle.

It wasn't night, it was simply darkness, with me in the middle hoping all the while that time was carrying on flowing, that something would crop up, me all alone in the middle, with my veins and my muscles dissolving rapidly into nothingness, me made of molecules of flesh and thought, dispersing in a cloud (a process of expansion as sudden as that of the room, a nebula of bedroom and me, between limits that grew dimmer by the moment).

Over the following days and weeks I would come to see, with mounting weariness, that this was to be the pattern of my life from now on: marginal and grim; my habitual daydreams and memories of our life as a couple reduced to nothing, to stuttering salvoes, by the gunpowder of the simple physical truth of my husband's absence.

Les femmes n'ont pas de nom. Elles ont un prénom. Leur nom est un prêt transitoire, un signe instable, leur éphémère. Elles trouvent d'autres repères. Leur affirmation au monde, leur "être là", leur création, leur signature, en sont déterminés. Elles s'inventent dans un monde d'hommes, par effraction.

My husband's disappeared. He got in from work, propped his briefcase against the wall and asked me if I'd bought any bread. It must have been around half past seven.

The ham tastes like an old handbag.