“It's his last thrill and his last sting of love, as fresh and painful as youth transplanted over time and an ocean.… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
They are so young, they forget that the world is not as in love with them as they are. — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
“For once, Frances is stripped of irony. She is in the presence of something bigger--namely Herself. Or at least the self implied… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
Writing is a hellish task, best snuck up on, whacked on the head, robbed and left for dead. — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
I grew up in a family where the love of stories is very strong. And there's also a love of performance. I… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
“Under a smoky streetlamp I stood face to face with my beloved and pricked my fingers against the diamond studs of her… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
“The world should not be organized to require heroines, and when one is required but fails to appear we should not judge. We should… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
“It's his last thrill and his last sting of love, as fresh and painful as youth transplanted over time and an ocean. There is… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
“By fall, they can read. It happened by osmosis, the way it ought to: after they have spent several months on Daddy's lap, following… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
Afterwards, in bed with a book, the spell of television feels remote compared to the journey into the page. To be in a book. To slip into the crease where two pages meet, to live in the place where your eyes alight upon the words to ignite a world of smoke and peril, colour and serene delight. That is a… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share
“Perhaps God dropped them on their heads before they were born.” — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
There are some stories you can't hear enough. They are the same every time you hear them. But you are not. That's one reliable… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
Some people talk about children wanting to be born as though somewhere out there in the collective unconscious there's a spirit, or a thought… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
“Memory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.” ― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees” — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
Do you think there's such a thing as a ghost who masquerades as a person? Do you believe that there are people whose bodies… — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
The world should not be organized to require heroines, and when one is required but fails to appear, we should not judge. — Ann-Marie MacDonald Copy Share Image
