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A moment was not a single moment at all, but rather an infinite number of different moments, depending on who was seeing things and how.

Kim Edwards

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Kim Edwards
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: May 4
Author
Novelist
Writer
Killeen
Texas
Numbers
Seeing
Rather
Moment
Moments
Depending
Different
Infinite
Things
Number
Single

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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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You missed a lot of heartache, sure. But David, you missed a lot of joy.
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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.
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He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
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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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That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.
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It seemed there was no end at all to the lies a person could tell, once she got started.
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Either things grow and change or they die.
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I love to swim, and I love being near water.
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After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?
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Your understanding of a place changes the longer you stay you discover more, and your own life gets woven into the fabric of the community.
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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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Once, this whole world had been hidden beneath a shallow sea.
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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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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 had never even glimpsed her.
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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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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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Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.
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