434 Quotes by Kate Morton

Self-possession, that's what it was. This was someone who knew her own mind, her own worth.--Part One : The Satchel> Chapter Three

Emmeline’s room overlooked Eros and Psyche on the front lawn, while Hannah preferred the smaller one with a view to the rose garden and the lake beyond. The two bedrooms were adjoined by a small sitting area, which was always referred to as the burgundy room, though I never could think why as the walls were a pale shade of duck-egg blue and the curtains a Liberty floral in blues and pinks.

A promise should never be made that one wasn't prepared to keep.

You're a storyteller, Alice Edevane," Ben had told her late one afternoon, as the river tripped coolly by and the pigeons came home to roost. "I've never met a person with such a clever imagination, such good ideas." His voice had been gentle and his gaze intense; Alice had seen herself then through his eyes and she'd liked what she saw.

Gerry?' Laurel had to strain to hear thought the noise on the other end of the line. 'Gerry? Where are you?''London. A phone booth on Fleet Street.''The city still has working phone booths?''It would appear so. Unless this is the Tardis, in which case I'm in serious trouble.

As an actor you could hardly be accused of disappearing into the background.""But acting isn't about being noticed or showing off; it's about observation." A man had said that to her once at the stage door. She'd been leaving after a theatre session, buzzing still with the high of performance, and he'd stopped her to say how much he'd enjoyed it. "You've a great talent for observation," he'd said. "Ears, eyes, and heart, all at once.

Wild rambling roses had started to appear on the sides of the path; creatures of habit making their yearly bids between the bracken and the fallen logs. It was good such things existed. It was proof there really was beauty and goodness in the world, just like the poems and platitudes said.

Alice dug into her pocket and pulled out her notebook, hurrying to make a note of the sensation and the day and the people in it, chewing on the end of her fountain pen as her gaze tripped over the sunlit house, the willow trees, the shimmering lake, and the yellow roses climbing on the iron gate. It was like the garden from a storybook- it 'was' the garden from a storybook- and Alice loved it. She was never going to leave Loeanneth. Never.

She was even prettier up close than he'd imagined. Bowtie lips with up-turned outer corners. Peachy skin- smooth, he could tell just by looking, yielding. Glossy curls around a love-heart face.