434 Quotes by Kate Morton

She’d slept terribly the night before. The room, the bed, were both comfortable enough, but she’d been plagued with strange dreams, the sort that lingered upon waking but slithered away from memory as she tried to grasp them. Only the tendrils of discomfort remained.

She used to say that the human heartbeat was the first music that a person heard, and that every child was born knowing the rhythm of her mother’s song.

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.

Her ghosts had been with her, as ever, but they hadn’t sat so close.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel things – many’s the time I saw him weep – but he dealt with his disappointment, with his hardship and grief; he picked himself up and went on, every time. And not like a mad person who refuses to recognize adversity, but like someone who accepts that life is inherently unfair. That the only truly fair thing about it is the randomness of its unfairness.

Stories have to be told or else they die.

Juliet was determined to remain strong for them. She was the pilot of her family’s little plane and no matter the indecision she felt, the questions that suffocated her when she turned off the lamp at night and lay awake in the slow-passing dark, the worry that she would make the wrong choice and in so doing ruin them, it was her responsibility to make them feel safe and secure the next day.

I can’t imagine facing the end of the day without a story to drop into on my way towards sleep.

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.