“Because the moon feels loved, she lets our eyes follow her across the field, stepping from her clothes, strewn silk glinting in furrows. Feeling loved, the moon loves to be looked at, swimming all night across the river.” — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
The spirit in the body is like wine in a glass; when it spills, it seeps into air and earth and light….It’s a mistake… — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
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… — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
I wanted a line in a poem to be the hollow ney of the dervish orchestra whose plaintive wail is a call to God.… — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
Reading a poem in translation is like kissing a woman through a veil. — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
“I saved myself without thinking. I grasped the two syllables closest to me, and replaced my heartbeat with your name.” — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
When my parents were liberated, four years before I was born, they found that the ordinary world outside the camp had been eradicated. There… — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
It's a fantastic privilege to spend three or four hundred pages with a reader. You have time to go into certain questions that are… — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
I really believe we read differently when we know even the most banal facts of an author's life. — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
To share a hiding place, physical or psychological, is as intimate as love. — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
Though the contradictions of war seem sudden and simultaneous, history stalks before it strikes. Something tolerated soon becomes something good. — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
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… — Anne Michaels Copy Share Image
