Michael Bedard > Quotes

“Words were few and failing between them as though the silence that sat with them had laid its old lips on theirs and sucked them dry of speech. For where could one begin? With the weather? But here there was no weather. These few sad rooms were the old man's world. His horizons were all walls.”
― Michael Bedard, Redwork

“But there was so much that one had to pretend not to see the incredible clutter that threatened to overtake the entire flat save for those few narrow paths that the old man moved on; the acrid odor of dirt and neglect that pervaded the place and worked its way into your pores so that you carried it with you after you had left; his odd ways,born of living so long in an absence of mirrors.”
― Michael Bedard, Redwork

“He stood at the gateway between two worlds, at the place where imagination passed into creation.”
― Michael Bedard, The Green Man

“I looked down at the paper in her lap.
"Is that poetry?" I asked.
"No, you are poetry. This only tries to be.”
― Michael Bedard, Emily

“What is poetry?' I asked.
He laid the wilted petals in his palm. "Listen to Mother play. She practices and practices a piece, and sometimes a magic happens and it seems the music starts to breathe. It sends a shiver through you. You can't explain it, really; it's a mystery. Well, when words do that, we call it poetry.”
― Michael Bedard, Emily

“It was her business now to believe - in the power and beauty of words, in the spirits that move among us always, in the worlds of light and dark that neighbor us - to believe in the possibility of the impossible.”
― Michael Bedard, The Green Man