Quotes from William Kent Krueger

With Mother home I liked the idea that we'd been saved as a family by the miracle of that ordinary grace.

Grief doesn't come in the moment of loss. It comes in the quiet of the aftermath...she didn't feel grief. In a way, what she felt was emptiness. Her mind told her he was dead. Her heart was not there yet.

What we use to construct the past is...a hodgepodge of fleeting glimpses...a construct of what stands in the light and what I imagine in the dark where I cannot see.

In a way, they weren't that different from the kids at Lincoln School, who'd been thrown together with almost nothing. But Lincoln School had been overseen by the likes of DiMarco and the Black Witch and her lizard-on-two-legs husband, and fear had been what we'd all shared the most. With the crusade, the spirit of Sister Eve ran through everything, and that made all the difference.

wouldn't talk to you." Cork

I know from my studies and from my life is that there is no such thing as a true event. We know dates and times and locations and participants but accounts of what happened depend upon the perspective from which the event is viewed. Take

donned their body armor, mounted their horses, and continued after Nightwind. They rode through the day without incident, the whole time in snowfall. Periodically

although the rain would miss us I could see quite well the silver bolts of lightning forged on the anvil of the great thunderhead. I slipped downstairs and out the front door and sat on the porch steps. A wind cooler than anything I'd felt in days breathed into my face and I watched the storm as I might have watched the approach and passing of a fierce and beautiful animal.

his experience, only people acted out of pure malice.

All that might have been good in my life had been destroyed by the Tornado God.

To breathe, to eat, to sleep, and to do so fearlessly—how much more did anyone need to be happy? Wealth, Wendell had impressed on her, was not a value the Anishinaabe held. Sharing was the way of The People.

She sang slowly and richly and delivered the heart of that great spiritual as if she was delivering heaven itself and her face was beautiful and full of peace. I shut my eyes and her voice reached out to wipe away my tears and enfold my heart and assure me absolutely that Bobby Cole was being carried home.

A wise man. He told me once every falling leaf comes to rest where it was always meant to.

Before he'd shoved off in his canoe, he'd said, "We don't die. In the things we pass on to our children, we go on living.

We all have secrets. With them, we're like squirrels with nuts. We hide them away, and bitter though they may be, we feed on them.

Doesn't matter who's in the White House, the truth about our government, any government for that matter, is that protecting its citizens is never its first priority. Its first priority is protecting itself.

He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God." In

Sam Winter Moon had cautioned him long ago that it was best to believe in all possibilities, that there were more mysteries in the world than a man could ever hope to understand.

He was thinking about what his father had said, how the quiet of the morning was something he had almost entirely to himself, something he would come to appreciate. It was true. On the streets of Aurora in that early hour, he was almost always alone. Sometimes lights were on in a room, usually a kitchen, or on rare occasions, a car might drift past, but he and Jackson owned the sidewalks and the morning was his.

Greek playwright Aeschylus. "He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.

Cork, promise me something." "What?" "You won't do anything that'll get you hurt." "I'm not what you'd call a brave man," he assured her. She sighed, her breath making the hair at the back of his neck shiver. "Maybe not, but you're stubborn, and that's just as bad." After

Memories sing to us, he told me. They're birds whose songs never fade.

THE WORLD IS HARD. BE STRONG. LOVE IS FOR ONLY A FEW. DON'T EXPECT IT. LIFE ISN'T FAIR. BUT SOME PEOPLE ARE. BE ONE OF THEM.

He'd been raised in the hills of the Ozarks, where making corn liquor was a time-honored tradition