Quotes from Kristin Hannah

It was the choices made when you were afraid. You were brave because of your fear, not in spite of it. "Yes." She leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead

No one could hurt you if you didn't let them. A good offense was the best defense.

Love had turned into loss and she'd pushed it away, but somehow, impossibly, a bit of that love had remained. A girl's love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.

On bad days, like today, she knew that she had always been an outsider in her own family. They had sensed the lack in her early on, seen that she didn't fit in.

She was afraid that if she really held on to him, she'd never let go. She had to be cautious from now on, treat him as she would a skittish cat; be careful to never move too fast or need too much.

We're all fragile, Isabelle. It's the thing that we learn in war

She needed guidance - and forgiveness - but for the first time in her life she could find no words for her prayer. How could she be forgiven for such a foolish, thoughtless act? God would see her guilt and fear, and He would judge her.

Some stories don't have happy endings. Even love stories. Maybe especially love stories.

She's earned my contempt.

Everyone has a story. Maybe yours just starts up here.

Fear changed everyone and everything, and yet, as always, life went on. Hour by hour, day by day, while politicians and military personnel were looking for bombs and terrorists, and while the Justice Department was tearing down Enron's papery walls, families went on with their ordinary lives.

you care too much about everyone else. What do you want?

Don't think about who they are. Think about who you are and what sacrifices you can live with and what will break you.

She had slit a tiny opening in the lining and slipped the thick envelope inside of it.

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. Elsa closed the journal and dressed quickly, then went to the room next door.

Ask for help when you need it, and give help when you can. I think that is how we serve God - and each other and ourselves - in times as dark as these.

Tonight, Mom painted a portrait of our family, and through her eyes I saw people I'd never imagined—a drunken, unfaithful husband and a depressed, overwhelmingly unhappy wife. How is it that I saw none of this? Are children so sublimely oblivious to their own world? She was right to hide this truth from me. Even now, I wish I didn't know it. Sometimes, knowing where we come from hurts more than we can stand.

Such teeth in this pain. Gnawing at her, then spitting her out to breathe for a moment and then biting again.

She would do it all again. And this wasn't the end. She had to remember that. Each day she lived there was a chance for salvation. She couldn't give up. She could never give up.

this little girl will love you as no one ever has Ã¢â'¬Â¦ and make you crazy and try your soul. Often all at the same time.

This is what the world should be, Red. People helping each other instead of killing their mothers for a little bread.

Unlike me, Bobby will never know the nagging ache of an absent father; he will have the loss of his mother inside him, like a thin shadow on a bright day, standing close, but he won't have that dragging sense that he was unloved, somehow, unworthy

Time and again, she had returned to God, pleading for help, promising her faith. She wanted to believe that she was neither alone nor in charge, but rather that her life was unfolding according to His plan, even if she couldn't see it. Now, though, such hope felt as slight and bendable as tin.

Limoges platter that had been their aunt's, several small impressionist