We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
The desert could not be claimed or owned — it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
When we are young we do not look into mirrors. It is when we are old, concerned with our name, our legend,… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
Read him slowly, dear girl, you must read Kipling slowly. Watch carefully where the commas fall so you can discover the natural… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
There was a time when mapmakers named the places they travelled through with the names of lovers rather than their own. — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
A postcard. Neat handwriting fills the rectangle. Half my days I cannot bear to touch you. The rest of my time I… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
In the desert the most loved waters, like a lover's name, are carried blue in your hands, enter your throat. One swallows… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
I believe in such cartography – to be marked by nature, not just label ourselves on a map like the names of… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
“In spite of this, our table's status on the Oronsay continued to be minimal, while those at the Captain's Table were constantly toasting to… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
He will hear the rain before he feels it, a clicking on the dry grass, on the olive leaves. — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
“Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
“...those who had risked everything at a riverbend on a left turn and so discovered a fortune.” — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
“All over the world there must be people like us, Anna had said then, wounded in some way by falling in love - seemingly… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog's paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
What is interesting and important happens mostly in secret, in places where there is no power. Nothing much of lasting value ever happens at… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
From this point on, she whispered, we will either find or lose our souls. — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
“You know it is the most relaxed thing when you when you sit with a best friend and you know there is nothing you… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
“There was no control except the " mood of his power... and it is for this reason it is good you never heard him… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
You're getting everyone's point of view at the same time, which for me, is the perfect state for a novel: a cubist state, the… — Michael Ondaatje Copy Share Image
