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
mother children stories
Mother didn't understand that children aren't frightened by stories; that their lives are full of far more frightening things than those contained in fairy tales.
children confused believe
She either confused me with a much older child or else she glimpsed deep inside my soul and perceived a hole that needed filling. I've always chosen to believe the latter. After all, it's the librarian's one sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.
children cold said
To abandon a child, she had once said to someone, when she thought Cassandra couldn't hear, was an act so cold, so careless, it refused forgiveness.
children past parent
Children don’t require of their parents a past and they find something faintly unbelievable, almost embarrassing, in parental claims to a prior existence.
children heart responsibility
It's special, grandparents and grandchldren. So much simpler. Is it always so, I wonder? I think perhaps it is. While one's child takes a part of one's heart to use and misuse as they please, a grandchild is different. Gone are the bonds of guilt and responsibility that burden the maternal relationship. The way to love is free.
children adults ifs
Adults weren’t supposed to understand their children and you were doing something wrong if they did.
children air woe
I've heard it said that children born to stressful times never shake the air of woe . . . .
children home magnet
... for home is a magnet that lures back even its most abstracted children.
home eye kissing
And then he was kissing her, and she was struck by his nearness, his solidity, his smell. It was of the garden and the earth and the sun. When Cassandra opened her eyes, she realized she was crying. She wasn't sad, though, these were the tears of being found, of having come home after a long time away.
thinking air doors
Round and round the questions flew, until finally I found myself standing at the open door of a bookshop. It’s natural in times of great perplexity, I think, to seek out the familiar, and the high shelves and long rows of neatly lined-up spines were immensely reassuring. Amid the smell of ink and binding, the dusty motes in beams of strained sunlight, the embrace of warm, tranquil air, I felt that I could breathe more easily.
people waiting stories
She says there are stories everywhere and that people who wait for the right one to come along before setting pen to paper end up with very empty pages.
wall reality doors
There’s something about hospital walls; though only made of bricks and plaster, when you’re inside them the noise, the reality of the teeming city beyond, disappears; it’s just outside the door, but it might as well be a magical land far, far away.
grief poet loved-ones
Had any poet adequately described the wretched ugliness of a loved one turned inside out with grief?
book together purpose
After all, it's the librarian's sworn purpose to bring books together with their one true reader.