Fathers die.You keep on loving them in any way you can.You can't hide him away in your heart. Michael Ondaatje More Quotes by Michael Ondaatje More Quotes From Michael Ondaatje She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Michael Ondaatje clarityshapesreason There is a story, always ahead of you. Barely existing. Only gradually do you attach yourself to it and feed it. You discover the carapace that will contain and test your character. You will find in this way the path of your life. Michael Ondaatje testsstoriescharacter I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur. Michael Ondaatje one-directionfalling-in-lovebelieve Everyone has to scratch on walls somewhere or they go crazy Michael Ondaatje scratcheswallcrazy 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 experience. Michael Ondaatje relationshipbelievebook For we live with those retrievals from childhood that coalesce and echo throughout our lives, the way shattered pieces of glass in a kaleidoscope reappear in new forms and are songlike in their refrains and rhymes, making up a single monologue. We live permanently in the recurrence of our own stories, whatever story we tell. Michael Ondaatje childhoodechoesglasses We are expanded by tears, we are told, not reduced by them. Michael Ondaatje tears The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human. Michael Ondaatje trustorderfirsts There is the hidden presence of others in us, even those we have known briefly. We contain them for the rest of our lives, at every border that we cross. Michael Ondaatje our-livesborderscrosses In the desert you celebrate nothing but water. Michael Ondaatje celebratedesertwater 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. Michael Ondaatje dreamchildrenpast A man in a desert can hold absence in his cupped hands, knowing it is something that feeds him more than water. Michael Ondaatje knowingmenhands The trouble with all of us is we are where we shouldn't be. Michael Ondaatje trouble The joyful will stoop with sorrow, and when you have gone to the earth I will let my hair grow long for your sake, I will wander through the wilderness in the skin of a lion Michael Ondaatje sorrowhairlong Death means you are in the third person. Michael Ondaatje third-personthirdsmean I think precision in writing goes hand in hand with not trying to say everything. You try and say two-thirds, so the reader will involve himself or herself. Michael Ondaatje writinghandsthinking And it would be a spare life he would be certain to lead as a schoolteacher in some urban location. But he had a serenity that came with the choice of the life he wanted to live. And this serenity and certainty I have seen only among those who have the armour of books close by. Michael Ondaatje serenitychoicesbook Could you fall in love with her if she wasn't smarter than you? I mean, she may not be smarter than you. But isn't it important for you to think she is smarter than you in order to fall in love? Think now. Michael Ondaatje falling-in-lovemeanthinking A love story is not about those who lost their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing—not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past. Michael Ondaatje sleepheartmean How does this happen? To fall in love and be disassembled. Michael Ondaatje falling-in-lovedoefall
