Some stones are so heavy only silence helps you carry them.
— Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces
Above Miner's Pond, geese break out of the sky's pale shell. They speak non-stop, amazed they've returned from the stars, hundreds of miles to describe. It's not that they're wild, but their will is the same as desire. The sky peels back under their blade. Like a train trestle, something in us rattles. All November, under their passing.
— Anne Michaels, Miner’s Pond
Somewhere, for the sake of his children, a man writes what he has seen. Somewhere, for the sake of his children, a man will not write what he has seen.
— Anne Michaels, Somewhere Night Is Falling
The dahlias and peonies sagged with shaggy, weary fullness, drunken with heat and sunshine.
— Anne Michaels, The Winter Vault