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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.
Kate Morton
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Kate Morton
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: July 19
Author
Novelist
Writer
Berri
South Australia
Australia
Soul
Fingers
Inch
Pass
Spine
Sparking
Whose
Positively
Spines
Close
Scent
Literate
Along
Arrive
Inhale
Open
Inches
Pluck
Eyes
Length
Lure
Eye
Dust
Drift
More quotes by Kate Morton
The stretch of years leaves none unmarked: the blissful sense of youthful invincibility peels away and responsibility brings its weight to bear.
Kate Morton
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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It didn't occur to him that she might have chosen to remain this way. That where he saw reserve and loneliness, Cassandra saw self-preservation and the knowledge that it was safer when one had less to lose.
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I love the structural part of the writing process.
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Even the most pragmatic person fell victim at times to a longing for something other.
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Curiosity might have killed the cat, but little girls usually fared much better.
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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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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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But everyone's an expert with the virtue of hindsight . . . .
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She hadn't wanted to be loved carefully, only well.
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She felt like a fictional character who'd escaped the book in which her creator had carefully and kindly trapped her, taken a pair of scissors to her outline and leaped, free.
Kate Morton
After all, it's the librarian's sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.
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You'll beat this. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you will. You're a survivor. I don't want to survive it. I know that, too, Nell had said. And it's fair enough. But sometimes we don't have a choice.
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She either confused me with a much older child or else she glimpsed deep inside my soul and perceived a hole that needed filling. I've always chosen to believe the latter. After all, it's the librarian's one sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.
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I sound contemptuous, but I am not. I am interested--intrigued even--by the way time erases real lives, leaving only vague imprints. Blood and spirit fade away so that only names and dates remain.
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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.
Kate Morton
. . . companions were to be valued, wherever one found them.
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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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I've heard it said that children born to stressful times never shake the air of woe . . . .
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