Her body had been in a war and, as in love, it had used every part of itself.
Michael OndaatjeYou know it is the most relaxed thing when you when you sit with a best friend and you know there is nothing you have to tell him to empty your mind. We just stayed there together, silent in the dusk like this, and we were quite happy.
Michael OndaatjeTags: friendship
A person will walk through a hundred doors to carry out the whims of the dead, not realizing he is burying himself away from the others.
Michael OndaatjeSecrets turn powerless in the open air.
Michael OndaatjeFor when people leave our company in our time we are never certain of seeing them again, or seeing them unaltered.
Michael OndaatjeThere are no brunettes...among Florentine Madonnas.
Michael OndaatjeMy darling, I'm waiting for you — how long is a day in the dark, or a week? The fire is gone now, and I'm horribly cold. I really ought to drag myself outside but then there would be the sun. . . I'm afraid I waste the light on the paintings and on writing these words. We die, we die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers, fears we have hidden in, like this wretched cave. We are the real countries, not the boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men. I know you will come and carry me out into the palace of winds. That's all I've wanted — to walk in such a place with you, with friends, on earth without maps...
Michael OndaatjeTags: life friendship love death
So what was better for us all? An ignorance, or a cautiousness like his, towards our own hearts.
Michael OndaatjeIn a breaker's yard you discover anything can have a new life, be reborn as part of a car or railway carriage, or a shovel blade. You take that older life and you link it to a stranger.
Michael OndaatjeShe had lived in that house fourteen years, and every year she had demanded of John that she be given a pet of some strange exotic breed. Not that she did not have enough animals. She had collected several wild and broken animals that, in a way, had become exotic by their breaking. Their roof would have collapsed from the number of birds who might have lived there if the desert hadn't killed three- quarters of those that tried to cross it. Still every animal that came within a certain radius of that house was given a welcome--the tame, the half born, the wild, the wounded.
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