Best 23 quotes of Margaret Millar on MyQuotes

Any good marriage involves a certain amount of play-acting.

Civilization has imposed countless restrictions and conventions on each of us, with the result that the subconscious in the majority of us has become a storage room without a key. We are forced to suppress or forget so many events and ideas and thoughts that those to which we should have access are lost in the welter. However, there are people who seem capable of unlocking this part of their minds and extracting relevant information.

Common sense is a vastly overrated virtue. I myself prefer the spark of genius.

I didn't mind giving up carnality, jewelry and red meat in return for comradeship and an afterlife.

I've reached the age where anyone who lets me talk seems like an old By listening to my memories, you have become part of them.

People, alas, are more impressed by statistics than they are by ideas.

Perfect young men don't get murdered, they don't even get born.

Private problems don't constitute an excuse for bad manners.

Sanity is a matter of culture and convention. If it's a crazy culture you live in, then you have to be irrational to want to conform. A completely rational person would recognize that the culture was crazy and refuse to conform. But by not conforming, he is the one who would be judged crazy by that particular society.

Some people become so expert at reading between the lines they don't read the lines.

That's what a conscience is made of, scar tissue ... Little strips and pieces of remorse sewn together year by year until they formed a distinctive pattern, a design for living.

The day will probably come when you can tell everything about a person from his dreams except his age and weight.

the emotions at death, as at birth, are instinctive and primitive.

There is no such thing as an ex-exhibitionist.

the smell of lilacs crept poignantly into the room like a remembered spring.

The smell of moist earth and lilacs hung in the air like wisps of the past and hints of the future.

The sun was shining like a congratulation.

The world of maps is nice and flat and simple. It has areas for people and areas for monsters. What a shock it is to discover the world is round and the areas merge and nothing separates the monsters and ourselves; that we are all whirling around in space together and there isn't even a graceful way of falling off.

To the uneducated eye, as to the incurious mind, much of the world is in darkness, and a thousand songs are lost on the unlistening ear.

When someone gives me three reasons instead of one, I'm inclined not to believe any of them.

You have what is known as a lot of character, meaning you can be wrong at the top of your lungs.

Animosity hung between them like a two-edged sword; neither of them could use it without first getting hurt herself.

It was a street of conformity; where identical houses were painted at the same time every spring, a place of rules where gardens, parenthood and the future were planned with equal care, and even if everything went wrong the master plan remained in effect–keep up appearances, clip the hedges, mow the lawn, so that no one will suspect that there’s a third mortgage and that Mother’s headaches are caused by martinis not migraine.