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If love wants you if you've been melted down to stars, you will love with lungs and gills with feathers and scales with warm blood and cold.

Anne Michaels

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Anne Michaels
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: April 15
Novelist
Pedagogue
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
City of Toronto
Wants
Blood
Gills
Stars
Melted
Love
Feathers
Lungs
Scales
Warm
Cold

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The dead leave us starving with mouths full of love.” from “Memoriam
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Even as a child, even as my blood-past was drained from me, I understood that if I were strong enough to accept it, I was being offered a second history.
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The shadow past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst.
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I'm naive enough to think that love is always good no matter how long ago, no matter the circumstances.
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Like other ghosts, she whispers not for me to join her, but so that, when I'm close enough, she can push me back into the world.
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The truth doesn't care what we think of it.
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I see that I must give what I most need.
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Long after you’ve forgotten someone’s voice, you can still remember the sound of their happiness or their sadness. You can feel it in your body.
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Some stones are so heavy only silence helps you carry them!
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But sometimes the world disrobes, slips its dress off a shoulder, stops time for a beat. If we look up at that moment, it's not due to any ability of ours to pierce the darkness, it's the world's brief bestowal. The catastrophe of grace.
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It is not a person’s depth you must discover, but their ascent. Find their path from depth to ascent.
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Hold a book in your hand and you're a pilgrim at the gates of a new city.
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The best teacher lodges an intent not in the mind but in the heart.
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Any given moment - no matter how casual, how ordinary - is poised, full of gaping life.
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To share a hiding place, physical or psychological, is as intimate as love.
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Reading a poem in translation is like kissing a woman through a veil.
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When you put a tremendous amount of love into your work, as in any relationship, you can't know - you can only hope - that what you're offering will in some way be received. You shape your love to artistic demands, to the rigors of your genre. But still, it's a labor of love, and it's the nature of love that you must give it freely.
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History and memory share events that is, they share time and space. Every moment is two moments.
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Once I was lost in a forest. I was so afraid. My blood pounded in my chest and I knew my heart's strength would soon be exhausted. I saved myself without thinking. I grasped the two syllables closest to me, and replaced my heartbeat with your name.
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Important lessons: look carefully record what you see. Find a way to make beauty necessary find a way to make necessity beautiful.
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