The thief you must fear the most is not the one who steals mere things.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldHe thought his heart would kill him, he'd had no clue what it was capable of.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldLily has never gotton used to being alone. They turn in the water and turn again, then Ambrose lifts her above the surface once more and the creek rains down from her. He lays her gently on her back and her heart breaks. Her tears begin to flow because he is leaving - don't go! He sinks into the water on his back - take me with you! His body turns white again and shimmers into segments until all the pieces disappear. Lily lies face down at right angles to the creek, her head hanging over the edge, arms outstretched towards the spot where she last saw her brother.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldWriting. Opening a vein in your wrist with a spoon.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldMots clés writing
Perhaps God dropped them on their heads before they were born.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldAfterwards, 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 journey no one can end with the change of a channel. Enduring magic.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldMots clés imagination reading books magic
One day, I'll sit down with all my books around me, and just start reading.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldAs time went by, it mattered less and less that in 1969 a rocket went from Florida to the moon and men walked there. Good men. People's dads. Those were only events, scattered in time. Draw them close, rub them between thumb and finger till they look like larvae, soften like silk, distend to knot, to weave. It takes a village to kill a child.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldMemory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees
The world should not be organized to require heroines, and when one is required but fails to appear we should not judge. We should just say, poor Camille, she turned into a bitch the way most people would have—and stay out of her way.
Ann-Marie MacDonaldMots clés heroes
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