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Each letter has a shape, she told them, one shape in the world and no other, and it is your responsibility to make it perfect.

Kim Edwards

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Kim Edwards
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: May 4
Author
Novelist
Writer
Killeen
Texas
Perfect
Father
Make
Letter
World
Shape
Letters
Shapes
Told
Responsibility

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...bleak territory of the heart.
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Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.
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The thing is, I used to like that: feeling special because I knew something no one else did. It's a kind of power, isn't it, knowing a secret? But lately I don't like it so much, knowing this. It's not really mine to know, is it?
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You can't spend the rest of your life tiptoeing around to try and avert disaster. It won't work. You'll just end up missing the life you have.
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He could hardly imagine anymore what his life would be without the weight of his hidden knowledge. He'd come to think of it as a kind of penance. It was self-destructive, he could see that, but that was the way things were. People smoked, they jumped out of airplanes, they drank too much and got into their cars and drove without seat belts.
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He had never even glimpsed her.
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She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.
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All that sunny afternoon, traveling north and east, Caroline believed absolutely in the future. And why not? For if the worst had already happened to them in the eyes of the world, then surely, surely, it was the worst that they left behind them now.
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The city of Pittsburgh gleaming suddenly before her . . . so startling in its vastness and its beauty that she had gasped and slowed, afraid of losing control of the car
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He'd kept this silence because his own secrets were darker, more hidden, and because he believed that his secrets had created hers.
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This is what he knew that Paul didn't: the world was precarious and sometimes cruel. He'd had to fight hard to achieve what Paul simply took for granted.
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Writing is always a process of discovery—I never know the end, or even the events on the next page, until they happen. There’s a constant interplay between the imagining and shaping of the story.
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But she had felt since childhod that her life would n ot be ordinary. A moment would come- she would know it when she saw it- and everything would change.
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In some deep place in her heart, Caroline had kept alive the silly romantic notion that somehow David Henry had once known her as no one else ever could. But it was not true. He had never even glimpsed her.
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I love to swim, and I love being near water.
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Either things grow and change or they die.
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She had died at age twelve, and by now she was nothing but the memory of love-- nothing, now, but bones.
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After Memory Keepers Daughter, it took me a few months to shut out the world. I really had to turn off the Internet and sort of cloister myself away from the world again and sink into that psychic space to write again.
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He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
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Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.
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