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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.

Kim Edwards

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Kim Edwards
Age: 66
Born: 1958
Born: May 4
Author
Novelist
Writer
Killeen
Texas
Community
Woven
Place
Fabric
Life
Discover
Changes
Gets
Stay
Longer
Understanding

More quotes by Kim Edwards

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It's good to be in love.
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You missed a lot of heartache, sure. But David, you missed a lot of joy.
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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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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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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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Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.
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He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
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After all these years, I feel so free. Who knows where I might fly?
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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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Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.
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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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Then she had been a fiancee, a young wife, and a mother, and she had discovered that these words were far too small ever to contain the experience.
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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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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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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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Once, this whole world had been hidden beneath a shallow sea.
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Its impossible to control the reception of your work - the only thing you can control is the experience of writing itself, and the work you create.
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Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.
Kim Edwards