Quotes from Paula McLain

And the adoption? How does that work with this theory about families?" "I see it this way. Your biological parents give you their genes, the map of your physical self. But whoever raises you makes you who you are, for better or for worse. Family dynamics are acted out, not built in, though someday scientists might prove otherwise.

One day you will want to attract a man," Emma said, glaring at me pointedly. "Your father and I have to prepare you for that." "Emma thinks you should have a coming-out party," he explained, cupping the heavy base of his scotch glass. "You've got to be joking. Out where?

And just when the song reached its highest pitch, I looked across the blazing circle and saw Kibii. We had always

His black eyes found mine over the licking flames, and my heart jumped. He was a moran now. That's what had changed—he'd become a man. I

A week passes but it feels as if he's never been anywhere else. It's one of the things war does to you. Everything you see works to replace moments and people from your life before, until you can't remember why any of it mattered.

Somehow anything unknown was its own minefield. Waiting for shelling was worse than the shelling itself. Once the attack started, you knew exactly where you stood and could respond. But the waiting. Yes, the waiting was the worst part.

You know, they don't hand out manuals for the tough stuff," he said as the band slowed. "I haven't always known what to do as a father, but somehow you've turned out all right." Before

still couldn't believe that Kibii could cross the most momentous threshold of his life without my hearing a whisper of it. I scanned the area for Buller, wanting to be gone as quickly as possible, but didn't see him. I made off anyway, and had reached the edge of the ridge, readying myself for the steep descent, when I heard Kibii calling my name.

Perhaps I will begin by walking where he has walked." Arap

Or perhaps I'll learn the difference between a boy's dreams and a man's." He paused, and then said, "When I marry, my father will live again in my sons." He

How is it I'm the enemy when she's the other woman? That seems very unfair, doesn't it?

The man who wants to marry me is very rich and strong. He lives near here. He built his house in three days." "A proper house or a hut?" he wanted to know. "A real house, with shingles and a pitched roof, and glass windows." He was silent for a moment, and I was sure I'd finally impressed him. "Three days," he said at last. "There is no wisdom in such hurrying. This house will not stand long.

In all my years of living in the bush, I had never caught malaria or any other of the terrible fevers or plagues. Now I was felled by something just as serious though more difficult to name—an illness of the spirit.

But the loss came with moments of incredible happiness, and the feeling of being seen and understood, of being found. There might be no future, no future at all, but time had sharpened into an unforgettable point. And that was a version of forever. That might be the only version of forever worth reaching for.

said. "I would ask him to build another dwelling, just for you, and to take more care." He turned away, dismissing me, and said, partly over his shoulder, "You should know I have a moran's name now. I am arap Ruta." —

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, death and the stars.

The games had prepared Ruta for his future, and should have prepared me for mine, too. The manoeuvres had become riskier and more difficult, but maybe each was the same when you got down to it. Jumping had taught me how to jump, hadn't it? I only had to look at Ruta to know he wasn't a child any more. Neither was I. The

More and more a bell tolled through me. It woke me up early and sometimes in the still middle of the night, sending a cold chill up over the surface of my skin. What have I done? Can I still mend this? Can I free myself? Most

Books could be an incredible adventure. I stayed under my blanket and barely moved, and no one would have guessed how my mind raced and my heart soared with stories. I could fall into any world and go without notice,

I wasn't nearly so clever. More and more I found myself at a loss for words and didn't want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

Who knows what anyone deserves? We like to play judge and jury, but we're all a rotten mess under our skins.

Her behavior was obviously retaliatory. That's what terrible, sordid situations did to you, made you act crazily, against your own truths, against your self.

He's like a human bomb with dozens of trip wires. Some of them I can see, but most are deeply inside him.

In the center if the road, I saw a heavy black sewing machine on its side, as if it had crawled out onto the street to die.