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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.
Kim Edwards
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Kim Edwards
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: May 4
Author
Novelist
Writer
Killeen
Texas
Away
Took
Keepers
Writing
Months
Psychic
Really
Memories
Psychics
World
Turn
Sink
Sort
Shut
Space
Memory
Turns
Daughter
Write
Internet
Cloister
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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.
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...bleak territory of the heart.
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Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.
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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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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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I love to swim, and I love being near water.
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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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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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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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It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.
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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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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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Either things grow and change or they die.
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Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.
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He had never even glimpsed her.
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His love for her was so deeply woven with resentment that he could not untangle the two.
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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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Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.
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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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