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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.

Kate Morton

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Kate Morton
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: July 19
Author
Novelist
Writer
Berri
South Australia
Australia
Earth
Drops
Firsts
Breeze
First
Evening
Star
Rain
Summer
Stars
Light
Parched

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Gerry?' Laurel had to strain to hear thought the noise on the other end of the line. 'Gerry? Where are you?' 'London. A phone booth on Fleet Street.' 'The city still has working phone booths?' 'It would appear so. Unless this is the Tardis, in which case I'm in serious trouble.
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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's one of the few people able to look beyond the lines on my face to see the twenty-year-old who lives inside.
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She did as she felt, and she felt a great deal.
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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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Children don’t require of their parents a past and they find something faintly unbelievable, almost embarrassing, in parental claims to a prior existence.
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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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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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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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I've heard it said that children born to stressful times never shake the air of woe . . . .
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It's special, grandparents and grandchldren. So much simpler. Is it always so, I wonder? I think perhaps it is. While one's child takes a part of one's heart to use and misuse as they please, a grandchild is different. Gone are the bonds of guilt and responsibility that burden the maternal relationship. The way to love is free.
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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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After all, it's the librarian's sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.
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You make a life out of what you have, not what you're missing.
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I love the structural part of the writing process.
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