Quotes About Choice

I do not say making love, because this is not what he's doing. Copulating too would be inaccurate, because it would imply two people and only one is involved. Nor does rape cover it: nothing is going on here that I haven't signed up for. There wasn't a lot of choice, but there was some, and this is what I chose.

Where I am is not a prison but a privilege, as Aunt Lydia said, who is in love with either/or.

It's a gamble every time you get up in the morning

We were a society dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.

Nothing is ever settled," says Jocelyn. "Every day is different. Isn't it better to do something because you've decided to? Rather than because you have to?

Which way will the cat jump?

God isn't what they say," she said. She said you could believe in Gilead or you could believe in God, but not both. That was how she had managed her own crisis. I said that I wasn't sure I would be able to choose. Secretly I feared that I would be unable to believe in either. Still, I wanted to believe; indeed I longed to; and, in the end, how much of belief comes from longing?

women on their own, making up their minds. They wore blouses with buttons down the front that suggested the possibilities of the word undone. These women could be undone; or not. They seemed to be able to choose. We seemed to be able to choose, then. We were a society of dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.

We're ankle deep in blood, and all because we ate the birds, we ate them a long time ago, when we still had the power to say no.

I say, leave me alone, this is my winter, I will stay here if I choose

We would not be Human if we did not prefer to be the devourers rather than the devoured, but either is a blessing. Should your life be required of you, rest assured that it is required by Life.

As Saint Paul says, marry or burn.

Right now I still have some choice in the matter. Not whether to die, but when and how. Isn't that freedom of a sort? Oh, and who to take down with me. I have made my list.

after the man had left, the mothers who had sold their children felt empty and sad. They felt as if this act, done freely by themselves (no one had forced them, no one had threatened them) had not been performed willingly. They felt cheated as well, as if the price had been too low. Why hadn't they demanded more?

I am still a coward, still fearful; none of that has changed. But I turn and walk away from her. It's like stepping off a cliff, believing the air will hold you up. And it does. I see that I don't have to do what she says, and worse and better, I've never had to do what she says. I can do what I like.

The answer can only be that God has given Adam free will, and therefore Adam may do things that God Himself cannot anticipate in advance.

Right now I still have some choice in the matter. Not whether to die, but when and how. Isn't that freedom of a sort?

Lilies used to be a movie theatre, before. Students went there a lot; every spring they had a Humphrey Bogart festival, with Lauren Bacall or Katherine Hepburn, women on their own, making up their minds. They wore blouses with buttons down the front that suggested the possibilities of the word 'undone'. These women could not be undone; or not. They seemed to be able to choose.

Right now I have some choice in the matter. Not whether to die, but when and how. Isn't that a freedom of sort? Oh, and who to take down with me. I have made my list

I had nightmares myself. Shall I describe on for you? No, I will not....When push comes to shove, only one's own nightmares are of any interest or significance. Last night I had a nightmare....You are of course fully in control of what you choose to read, and may pass over this dream of mine at will.

Exploited, they'd say. Yes, any way you cut it, but I've a choice of how, and I'll take the money.

Kick in the door, and what did I tell you? Caught in the act, sinfully Scrabbling. Quick, eat those words. Maybe

She who does not hesitate is lost.

We use butter, I said. When we can get it. Or margarine. A lot of the time it's margarine. Butter, he said, musing. That's very clever. Butter. He laughed. I could have slapped him.