Kristina McMorris > Kristina's Quotes

“Life is too short not to say how you feel to the people you love.”
― Kristina McMorris, Letters from Home

“Were prayers of murderers, when fighting on the “right side” of the war, ever heard—let alone answered?”
― Kristina McMorris, Letters from Home

“It’s odd, isn’t it? People die every day and the world goes on like nothing happened. But when it’s a person you love, you think everyone should stop and take notice. That they ought to cry and light candles and tell you that you’re not alone.”
― Kristina McMorris, Letters from Home

“In seven days God had created the Earth. In a single day mankind had turned it upside down.”
― Kristina McMorris, Bridge of Scarlet Leaves

“The whole world can become the enemy when you lose what you love.”
― Kristina McMorris, Bridge of Scarlet Leaves

“The line between him and the enemy had simultaneously blurred and solidified. Somehow, while perhaps it shouldn't have, this thought provided a strange sense of peace.”
― Kristina McMorris, Bridge of Scarlet Leaves

“I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince and Other Stories

“Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it.”
― J.K. Rowling

“Not every loss was confirmed by an officer at the door. Nor a telegram with the power to sink a fleet. Loss, often the worst kind, also arrived through the deafening quiet of an absence.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Pieces We Keep

“Maybe heaven entailed more than a soul residing in a single place, but instead having pieces of yourself spread among the hearts and memories of people you've touched.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Pieces We Keep

“The most wonderful type of love, she had learned, was the kind built with care and over time, through forgiveness and understanding, compromise and compassion, trust and acceptance. It was hidden in the minutiae of every day life; it was in the traded smiles during a radio show or the peaceful lulls on an evening stroll.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Pieces We Keep

“Good had defeated evil, people proclaimed, a justification for atrocities best left forgotten. They would cling to this oversimplified truth while trading pats on the back and placing flowers on graves.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Pieces We Keep

“War doesn’t start with an explosion….It bears far more subtlety. A simmer beneath the surface, as if bringing broth to a boil.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Pieces We Keep

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
― Theodore Roosevelt

“It’s fascinating, really, when you think about it. How a person can slip into a new life as one would a new pair of shoes. At first there’s a keen awareness of the fit: a stiffness at the heel, the binding of the width, the curve pressed to the arch. But with time and enough steps, the feel becomes so natural you almost forget you’re wearing them at all.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Edge of Lost

“Shan supposed, in many ways, memory was the same: a collection of scraps, pieced together one by one. Whether useful or comforting, rough or sharp edged, combined as a whole they provided a semblance of security. Identity, even. Until wiped away.”
― Kristina McMorris, The Edge of Lost

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”
― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption