Michael Ondaatje

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Michael Ondaatje

The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human. Meander if you want to get to town.More Michael Ondaatje [01/01/2000 12:01:00]
In the book the relationship with Katharine and Almasy is sort of only in the patient's mind.More Michael Ondaatje [03/12/2018 02:03:32]
That's Anil's path. She grows up in Sri Lanka, goes and gets educated abroad, and through fate or chance gets brought back by the Human Rights Commission to investigate war crimes.More Michael Ondaatje [03/12/2018 02:03:32]
I am not in love with him, I am in love with ghosts. So is he, he's in love with ghosts.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
How can you smile as though your whole life hasn't capsizedMore Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. It comes from too long having to read into hardly anything at all.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
Do you understand the sadness of geography?More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
She moved from being a young woman into having the angular look of a queen, someone who has made her face with her desire to be a certain kind of person. He still likes that about her. Her smartness, the fact that she did not inherit that look or that beauty, but it was something searched for and that it will always reflect a present stage of her character.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
Nicholas Temelcoff is famous on the bridge, a daredevil. He is given all the difficult jobs and he takes them. He descends into the air with no fear. He is a solitary. He assembles ropes, brushes the tackle and pulley at his waist, and falls off the bridge like a diver over the edge of a boat.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
He turns his back to the far shore and rows toward it. He can in this way travel away from, yet still see, his house....he feels he is riding a floating skeleton...Some birds in the almost-dark are flying as close to their reflections as possible.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves. I wish for all this to be marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experieMore Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
You must talk to me, Caravaggio. Or am I just a book? Something to be read, some creature to be tempted out of a loch and shot full of morphine, full of corridors, lies, loose vegetation, pockets of stones.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
all this Beethoven and rainMore Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
I have spent weeks in the desert, forgetting to look at the moon, he says, as a married man may spend days never looking into the face of his wife. These are not sins of omission but signs of pre-occuopation.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
...the heart is an organ of fire.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
There's more danger in the violence you don't face.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
There's always been anger in the making of music or literature or dance.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
I see myself as someone who's been saved by writing. God knows what I would have been, become or how I would have ended up without it.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
There are betrayals in war that are childlike compared with our human betrayals during peace. The new lovers enter the habits of the other. Things are smashed, revealed in a new light. This is done with nervous or tender sentences, although the heart is an organ of fire.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
For the first forty days a child is given dreams of previous lives. Journeys, winding paths, a hundred small lessons and then the past is erased.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
I want to die on your chest but not yet she wrote sometime in the 13th century of our loveMore Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
You built your walls too, she tells him. So I have my wall. She says it glittering in a beauty he cannot stand. She with her beautiful clothes with her pale face that laughs at everyone who smiles at her...More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
He knows that the only way he can accept losing her is if he can continue to hold her or be held by her. If they can somehow nurse each other out of this. Not with a wall.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]
What he would say, he cannot say to this woman whose openness is like a wound, whose youth is not mortal yet. He cannot alter what he loves most in her, her lack of compromise, where the romance of the poems she loves still sits with ease in the real world. Outside these qualities he knows there is no order in the world.More Michael Ondaatje [03/29/2018 05:03:36]

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