Quotes from Kristin Hannah

Two choices: ask for honesty and try to roll with unwanted truths or stick your head in the sand and be lied to.

Sometimes a story sneaks up on you, hits you hard and dares you to look away. That was the case with The Nightingale. In

But no matter how hard they all tried to be normal, their life was a dirty window that couldn't be wiped clean. Everything, every moment, was coated by illness.

Perhaps she was looking at the other side of fear. What happened to a child when fear had been the norm forever Ã¢â'¬Â¦ did it melt into watchfulness?

Love. In the best of times, it is a dream. In the worst of times, salvation.

Don't worry about dying, Elsa. Worry about not living.

She learned then that some relationships ended without fireworks or tears or regret. They ended in silence.

We fought, we struggled, we hurt each other, so what? That's what love is, I think. It's all of it - the dust, the drought, the fights with you - never once did I stop loving you or Ant or the farm.

Leni looked around. The beauty of this place, the majesty of it, was overwhelming. A deep and abiding peace existed here; there were no human voices, no thumping footsteps, no laughter or engines running. The natural world spoke loudest here, the breathing of the tide across the rocks, the slap of water on the float plane's pontoons, the distant barking of sea lions lumped together on a rock, being circled by chattering gulls.

Hello?" 'It's me. I'm having a crisis.' "I'll be there in twenty minutes.

It was strange how you could stop seeing people who were right beside you, how images stuck in your head.

I am forty years old, and I have only just learned this fundamental truth myself. Love. In the best of times, it is a dream. In the worst of times, a salvation. I am in love. There it is. I have written it down. Soon I will say it out loud. To him. I am in love. As crazy and ridiculous and implausible as it sounds, I am in love. And I am loved in return. And this --love-- gives me the courage I need for today.

When he finally found the words to express himself, his grief had shown itself to be bottomless, terrifying.

Both were trying in their way to hold on to the day, to really celebrate his birthday, and afterward, when Meredith lay in her lonely bed, she began what she knew would be a new life habit: talking to her dad in the quiet times. She couldn't get advice from him, perhaps, but somehow just saying the words aloud helped.

But how did you do that? How did two people move backward through time and untie a knot that had tangled through every moment of their lives?

We fought, we struggled, we hurt each other, so what? That's what love is, I think. It's all of it. Tears, anger, joy, struggle. Mostly, it's durable. It lasts. Never once in all of it—the dust, the drought, the fights with you

Jack says I am a warrior and, while I don't believe it, I know this: A warrior believes in an end she can't see and fights for it. A warrior never gives up. A warrior fights for those weaker than herself. It sounds like motherhood to me.

Her teenage daughter was sprouting like a tree, blooming every day into another variation of who she would someday become. Moods twisted her up and left her looking sometimes like a girl who'd just washed up onshore, unable to quite remember who she was and who she wanted to be. Kate

Maybe it had all happened the way it needed to, maybe they'd each crossed their own oceans -hers of damaged love and loss, his of pain- to be here again together, where they belonged.

You know what else is forever?" "Dirty diapers." Kate reached out for Tully's hand, noticing how cold her friend's skin was. How could she convince Tully that this was the Y in their lives, the inevitable separation, but not an abandonment? "Us," she said pointedly. "We'll be friends through jobs and kids and marriages." She grinned. "I'm sure I'll outlast several of your husbands.

Nora's gaze was steady. "No matter how dark a place is, there are always moments of light. That's what I passed on to you and Caroline, my moments of light.

He stood slowly and took her in his arms. She wanted to bottle how safe she felt in this moment, so she could drink of it later when loneliness and fear left her parched.

So that was how they would do it, merge back into the driving lane after a blown tire. They would say ordinary things and pretend none of it had happened. Until the next time.

Have we? Have we lost our light, or have we perhaps just glimpsed it for the first time?