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Time had a way of moulding people into shapes they themselves no longer recognised.

Kate Morton

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Kate Morton
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: July 19
Author
Novelist
Writer
Berri
South Australia
Australia
Shapes
Longer
Way
Time
People
Moulding
Recognised

More quotes by Kate Morton

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She was the breeze on a summer's day, the first drops of rain when the earth was parched, light from the evening star.
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I've heard it said that children born to stressful times never shake the air of woe . . . .
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The world was an awfully large place and it wasn't easy to find a person who'd gone missing sixty years earlier, even if that person was oneself.
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Oh, Grey, no one really likes keeping secrets. The only thing that makes a secret fun is knowing that you weren't supposed to tell it.
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Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down, before they knew their endings.
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Adults weren’t supposed to understand their children and you were doing something wrong if they did.
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... for home is a magnet that lures back even its most abstracted children.
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Nell was not one for friends and had never hidden her distaste for most other humans, their neurotic compulsion for the acquisition of allies.
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She'd slept terribly the night before. The room, the bed, were both comfortable enough, but she'd been plagued with strange dreams, the sort that lingered upon waking but slithered away from memory as she tried to grasp them. Only the tendrils of discomfort remained.
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It was such a pleasure to sink one's hands into the warm earth, to feel at one's fingertips the possibilities of the new season.
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Had any poet adequately described the wretched ugliness of a loved one turned inside out with grief?
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Happiness in life is not a given, it must be seized.
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All true readers have a book, a moment when real life is never going to be able to compete with fiction again.
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She hadn't wanted to be loved carefully, only well.
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I love the structural part of the writing process.
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But in my humble opinion, a house needs a good party once in a while remind folks it exists.
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My fingers positively itched to drift at length along their spines, to arrive at one whose lure I could not pass, to pluck it down, to inch it open, then to close my eyes and inhale the soul-sparking scent of old and literate dust.
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Cassandra always hid when she read, though she never quite knew why. It was as if she couldn't shake the guilty suspicion that she was being lazy, that surrendering herself so completely to something so enjoyable must surely be wrong. But surrender she did. Let herself drop through the rabbit hole and into a tale of magic and mystery.
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But everyone's an expert with the virtue of hindsight . . . .
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A girl expecting rescue never learns to save herself. Even with the means, she will find her courage wanting.
Kate Morton