English En
  • Deutsche De
  • English En
  • Français Fr
  • Русский Ru

We use cookies to personalise content and ads, to provide social media features and to analyse our traffic. We also share information about your use of our site with our marketing and analytics partners who may combine it with other information you've provided to them or which they've separately collected from you. You also may to see our Privacy Policy. By clicking the OK button below, you accept our cookies.

Authors:
Michael Ondaatje Quotes

Michael Ondaatje quotes about night

Canadian Author, Writer, Poet September 12, 1943

Michael Ondaatje quotes in russian
 Cite this Page: Citation

Quotes

Sometimes when she is able to spend the night with him they are wakened by the three minarets of the city beginning their prayers before dawn. He walks with her through the indigo markets that lie between South Cairo and her home. The beautiful songs of faith enter the air like arrows, one minaret answering another, as if passing on a rumor of the two of them as they walk through the cold morning air, the smell of charcoal and hemp already making the air profound. Sinners in a holy city. Michael Ondaatje
I have been seeing dragons again. Last night, hunched on a beaver dam, one held a body like a badly held cocktail; his tail, keeping the beat of a waltz, sent a morse of ripples to my canoe. They are not richly brightbut muted like dawnsor the vague sheen on a fly's wing. Their old flesh drags in foldsas they drop into grey pools, strain behind a tree. Finally the others saw one today, trapped, tangled in our badminton net. The minute eyes shuddered deep in the creased facewhile his throat,... Michael Ondaatje
Nowadays he doesn't think of his wife, though he knows he can turn around and evoke every move of her, describe any aspect of her, the weigh of her wrist on his heart during the night. Michael Ondaatje
Michael Ondaatje quote: "This last night we tear into each other, as if to wound, as if..."
This last night we tear into each other, as if to wound, as if to find the key to everything before morning. Michael Ondaatje
So the books for the Englishman, as he listened intently or not, hadgaps of plot like sections of a road washed out by storms, missingincidents as if locusts had consumed a section of tapestry, as ifplaster loosened by the bombing had fallen away from a mural at night. Michael Ondaatje

Popular Author

Related Authors