We fact-checked this, and it's true: "battle" would be an anagram of "ballet" if there were one fewer "t" and an extra "l."  From Livin' the Dreem by Harry Hill.

Those in our inner circle (recipients of fabulous prizes) know that we'd agree: anagrams are better than limericks.   From If: A Nightmare in the Conditional Mood by Charles Graves and E. V. Lucas, illustrated by George Morrow, 1908.

Two famous biblical accouchements, Eve from Adam's rib and Jesus from the virginal Mary, are connected as shown here.  Yet these are banal miracles, inasmuch as the emergences are from human bodies.  Consider how the Tibetan Book of the Dead offers explicit instructions on how to be reborn in a lotus flower.

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook:

Wintertime in Florida: the "reason for the season" rearranges into "seashore afternoons" (with a seahorse).

We're honored that Andrew M. Reichart, managing editor of Argawarga Press (weird books for weird people), listens often to the "Anagrammatical Ancestor Spell" flexi-disc we recorded for Fiddler's Green #5.  Thank you, Mr. Reichart, for calling our recording "inspiring."

Though one might presume that the letters spell ATHLETICS, they actually spell LITHE CATS.  From Rockford's 1914 yearbook.

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook: an anagram for our friend Holy-Mountaineering.  Other anagrams we considered were: A onetime hungry lion; A genuine loony mirth; Metering a holy union.

Eerie prescience!  And yet in this particular case we must credit the mysteries inherent in words more than our own arcane powers.  Back in 2011 [original post here], we created an anagram in honor of the poet Geof Huth, in which we found that the letters of his name, when scrambled in front of his name, spelled "The hug of Geof Huth."  Just over 8 years later, the poet revealed in his own blog post that in fact the issue of a hug was the defining moment of his entire life, the day that he became his own person.  Huth revealed in May 2019:

By the time I was eight or nine, I was opposed to hugging my parents, not because I was opposed to hugging (though I was and still am), but because I knew hugging my mother was a lie, and I tried not to lie. After refusing to hug her at her insistence and then my father’s, my father was forced to hit me strenuously with a belt upon my bare bottom, over and over, while my mother cried at the necessity of such punishment.

That was my proudest moment, the day I became myself. I did not cry. I remained stoic. I took the punishment as a badge of honor, and I spent about the next decade learning never to cry. My mother and father helped me see I had to hide my self and any sadness—merely to survive. So I shut down.

Although we are happy to take credit for our various mystical feats, in truth it was only a queer instinct that led us to explore the meanings hidden with the letters of Geof Huth's name.  The rest was self-working, as it were -- the profoundest and proudest moment in Huth's life was embedded within his name.  We merely unlocked it and took the trouble to present it.  Had we predicted just how remarkably siginicant the word "hug" was to Huth, we might very well never have gifted him the anagram.  Some things are simply too personal.  Now that we know, eight years later, just how visionary our anagram was, we formally apologize.  Incidentally, there's some relief for us in all this -- our occasional anagram gifts to people we admire are sometimes received less enthusiastically than we would have expected, and we now increasingly realize that the mysterious insights we unlock may simply hit too close to home.  The phenomenon is a very serious issue for the field of divination -- for all one's intuition and foresight, one cannot always predict today's consequences of prescient information.

We don't know that this makes any sort of sense ... but we were thinking about the expression concerning the rarity of hen's teeth, and this re-ordering of syllables popped into our head: "It's like pulling teeth / like teething pullets."

Here's our anagram for Valentine's Day.  (We had hoped that "put the saint back in Valentine's day" would be a Googlewhack, but there are 26 results for that phrase.)

From Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook.