The Testaments (The Handmaid's Tale, #2)

by Margaret Atwood

How tedious is a tyranny in the throes of enactment. It’s always the same plot.

Did I weep? Yes: tears came out of my two visible eyes, my moist weeping human eyes. But I had a third eye, in the middle of my forehead. I could feel it: it was cold, like a stone. It did not weep: it saw. And behind it someone was thinking: I will get you back for this. I don’t care how long it takes or how much shit I have to eat in the meantime, but I will do it.

I thought I was learning how to act; or rather, how to be an actress. Or how to be a better actress than before.