Kate Morton
Kate Morton
Kate Mortonis an international bestselling Australian author. Morton has sold more than 10 million books in 38 countries, making her one of Australia's "biggest publishing exports". The award-winning author has written five novels: The House at Riverton, The Forgotten Garden, The Distant Hours,The Secret Keeper, and The Lake House, which was published in October 2015...
NationalityAustralian
ProfessionAuthor
CountryAustralia
acquisition allies compulsion
Nell was not one for friends and had never hidden her distaste for most other humans, their neurotic compulsion for the acquisition of allies.
life princess differences
You must learn to know the difference between tales and the truth, my Liza, she would say. Fairy tales have a habit of ending too soon. They never show what happens afterwards when the prince and princess ride off the page.
memories war past
Wars make history seem deceptively simple. They provide clear turning points, easy distinctions.: before and after, winner and loser, right and wrong. True history, the past, is not like that. It isn't flat or linear. It has no outline. It is slippery, like liquid; infinite and unknowable, like space. And it is changeable: just when you think you see a pattern, perspective shifts, an alternate version is proffered, a long-forgotten memory resurfaces.
wanted wells wanted-to-be-loved
She hadn't wanted to be loved carefully, only well.
loneliness self might
It didn't occur to him that she might have chosen to remain this way. That where he saw reserve and loneliness, Cassandra saw self-preservation and the knowledge that it was safer when one had less to lose.
anchors opposites two
There were two now where they had been three. David's death had dismantled the triangle, and an enclosed space was now open. Two points are unreliable; with nothing to anchor them, there is nothing to stop them drifting in opposite directions. If it is string that binds, it will eventually snap and the points will separate; if elastic, they will continue to part, further and further, until the strain reaches its limit and they are pulled back with such speed that they cannot help but collide with devastating force.
eye dust soul
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.
real opportunity order
In real life turning points are sneaky. They pass by unlabeled and unheeded. Opportunities are missed, catastrophes unwittingly celebrated. Turning points are only uncovered later, by historians who seek to bring order to a lifetime of tangled moments.
garden hands earth
It was such a pleasure to sink one's hands into the warm earth, to feel at one's fingertips the possibilities of the new season.
photography art memories
It is a cruel, ironical art, photography. The dragging of captured moments into the future; moments that should have been allowed to be evaporate into the past; should exist only in memories, glimpsed through the fog of events that came after. Photographs force us to see people before their future weighed them down....
writing thinking two
No two people will ever see or feel things in the same way, Merry. The challenge is to be truthful when you write. Don't approximate. Don't settle for the easiest combination of words. Go searching instead for those that explain exactly what you think. What you feel.
people way terrible
It's a terrible thing, isn't it, the way we throw people away?
book intelligent thinking
True love, it's like an illness. I never understood it before. In books and plays. Poems. I never understood what drove otherwise intelligent, right-thinking people to do such extravagant, irrational things. Now I do. It's an illness. You can catch it when you least expect. There's no known cure. And sometimes, in its most extreme, it's fatal.
memories mistress
Memory is a cruel mistress with whom we all must learn to dance.