Quote

When a man dies, his secrets bond like crystals, like frost on a window. His last breath obscures the glass.

Anne Michaels

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Anne Michaels
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: April 15
Novelist
Pedagogue
Poet
University Teacher
Writer
City of Toronto
Men
Glasses
Like
Breath
Breaths
Obscures
Window
Crystals
Secret
Frost
Dies
Bond
Lasts
Secrets
Last
Glass

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History is the gradual instant
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The best teacher lodges an intent not in the mind but in the heart.
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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.
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The shadow-past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst. A biography of longing. It steers us like magnetism, a spirit torque. This is how one becomes undone by a smell, a word, a place, the photo of a mountain of shoes. By love that closes its mouth before calling a name.
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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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Any given moment - no matter how casual, how ordinary - is poised, full of gaping life.
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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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There's a moment when love makes you believe in death for the first time. You recognize the one whose loss, even contemplated, you'll carry forever, like a sleeping child. All grief, anyone's grief...is the weight of a sleeping child.
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Some stones are so heavy only silence helps you carry them!
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Now we're like planets, holding to each other from a great distance. [...] Now we're hundreds of miles apart, our short arms keep us lonely, no one hears what's in my head. [...] It's March, even the birds don't know what to do with themselves.
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Reading a poem in translation is like kissing a woman through a veil.
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I see that I must give what I most need.
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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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The truth doesn't care what we think of it.
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Trees for example, carry the memory of rainfal. In their rings we read ancient weather - storms, sunlight and temperatures, the growing seasons of centuries. A forest shares a history which each tree remembers even after it has been felled.
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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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Though the contradictions of war seem sudden and simultaneous, history stalks before it strikes. Something tolerated soon becomes something good.
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The dead leave us starving with mouths full of love.” from “Memoriam
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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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The shadow past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst.
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