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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
Eyes
Length
Lure
Eye
Dust
Drift
Soul
Fingers
Inch
Pass
Spine
Sparking
Whose
Positively
Spines
Close
Scent
Literate
Along
Arrive
Inhale
Open
Inches
Pluck
More quotes by Kate Morton
Adults weren’t supposed to understand their children and you were doing something wrong if they did.
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In each man's heart there lies a hole. A dark abyss of need, the filling of which takes precedence over all else.
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A true friend is a light in the dark. Viven
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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.
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While I wasn't certain how I felt about spiritualists, I was certain enough about the type of people who were drawn to them. Only people unhappy in the present seek to know the future.
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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 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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They say everyone needs something to love.
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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 is a cruel, ironical art, photography. The dragging of captured moments into the future moments that should have been allowed to be evaporate into the past should exist only in memories, glimpsed through the fog of events that came after. Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down.
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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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Quite simply the book and I were meant to be together.
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That, my dear, is what makes a character interesting, their secrets.
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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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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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There's a market for mysteries for adults. That feeling of opening a book and delving inside and not coming out until you've closed the book.
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A twinge at the edge of her lips and she continued, the soft, slow lilt of recitation: Ancient walls that sing the distant hours.
Kate Morton
I've heard it said that children born to stressful times never shake the air of woe . . . .
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You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing.
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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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