This was her life. Not the life she had once dreamed of, not a life her younger self would ever have imagined or desired, but the life she was living, with all its complexities. This was her life, built with care and attention, and it was good.
Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.
You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.
You missed a lot of heartache, sure. But David, you missed a lot of joy.
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.
It seemed there was no end at all to the lies a person could tell, once she got started.
So something had begun, and now she could not stop it. Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement. She could leave this place today. She could start a new life somewhere else.
Away from the bright motion of the party, she carried her sadness like a dark stone clenched in her palm.
It wasn't right. He knew that, but it was like falling: once you started you couldn't stop until something stopped you.
That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.
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.
It's funny how things seem different, suddenly.
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?
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.
I've been accused of trying too hard to rescue people
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.
Either things grow and change or they die.
Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.
There was something not quite right about her eagerness, an eerie kind of voyeurism in her need for bad news.
Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.
Music is like you touch the pulse of the world. Music is always happening, and sometimes you get to touch it for a while, and when you do you know that everything's connetcted to everything else.
They turned a distracted gaze on the world, wide-eyed, somehow, and questioning.
He carried Paul inside and up the stairs. He gave him a drink of water and the orange chewable aspirin he like and sat with him on the bed, holding his hand...This was what he yearned to capture on film: these rare moments where the world seemed unified, coherent, everything contained in a single fleeting image. A spareness that held beauty and hope and motion - a kind of silvery poetry, just as the body was poetry in blood and flesh and bone.
No one could suspect the intricate mysteries of her heart.
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.
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.
Norah looked at her son's tiny face, surprised, as always, by his name. he had not grown into it yet, he still wore it like a wrist band, something that might easily slip off and disappear. She had read about people - where? she could not remember this either - who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to be not yet of the earth, suspended still between two worlds.
He fished in his pocket for his keys and instead pulled out the last geode, gray and smooth, earth-shaped. He held it, warming in his palm, thinking of all mysteries the world contained: layers of stone, concealed beneath the flesh of earth and grass; these dull rocks, with their glimmering hidden hearts.
Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.
He had handed his daughter to Caroline Gill and that act had led him here, years later, to this girl in motion of her own, this girl who had decided yes, a brief moment of release in the back of a car, in the room of a silent house, this girl who had stood up later, adjusting her clothes, with now knowledge of how that moment was already shaping her life.
More Kim Edwards Quotations (Based on Topics)
World - Life - Joy & Excitement - Secrets - Light - Water - Wisdom & Knowledge - Emotions - Children - Property - Cars - Poetry - Attention - Perfection - Government - Mystery - Thought & Thinking - Faces - Mothers - View All Kim Edwards Quotations
More Kim Edwards Quotations (By Book Titles)
- The Memory Keeper's Daughter
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