But happiness ... happiness grows at our own firesides," she said. "It is not to be picked in strangers' gardens." ~ The… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“. . . happiness grows at our own firesides, . . . . It is not to be picked in strangers' gardens.” — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
It was such a pleasure to sink one's hands into the warm earth, to feel at one's fingertips the possibilities of the… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“But happiness ... happiness grows at our own firesides,' she said. 'It is not to be picked in strangers' gardens.” — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“And finally it seemed autumn had realized it was September. The last lingering days of summer had been pushed off stage and… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Her hands pressed warm against the glass as her gaze swept the scene below: cream and pink roses, petals shining as if… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Alice stopped walking as a dragonfly hovered close. 'Yellow-winged darter.' The name came to mind of its own accord. She watched as… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“She forced herself to stroll casually and appraise her plants. The wisteria was shedding its final leaves, the jasmine had long lost… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Yesterday morning I managed briefly to escape Mamma, & passed a lovely hour in the roof garden. I thought of you, dearest,… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“There was a strong but not unpleasant smell- moist earth, decomposing leaf matter, new flowers beginning to catch the day's sun- and… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“It was a garden, a walled garden. Overgrown but with beautiful bones visible still. Someone had cared for this garden once. The… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“By the time she entered the hidden garden, early light was sifting through the autumn-sparse canopy. Eliza took a deep breath. She'd… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“The garden is incredible. It's really overgrown, but underneath the brambles all kinds of plants have survived. There are paths, garden seats,… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Eliza had split each day between her two favorite places on the estate: the black rock down in the cove, on top… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“She sat on the little iron garden seat in the clearing at the top and looked down at the strange garden of… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“For centuries the Mountrachets had been keen horticulturists. Forebear after forebear had traveled far and wide, spanning the globe in search of… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Without sight to get in the way of things, the whole world was suddenly alive with sound: the lapping of water as… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“There was something about the garden that reminded her of Nell's backyard in Brisbane. Not the plants so much as the mood.… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Alice dug into her pocket and pulled out her notebook, hurrying to make a note of the sensation and the day and… — Kate Morton Copy Share Image
“Laurel wondered whether perhaps a person reached an age when so much was kept from them, so many details of life discussed and decided… — Kate Morton Copy Share
“It hardly needs to be said: sooner or later secrets have a way of making themselves known.” — Kate Morton Copy Share
“It suddenly seemed to Laurel that all the absences in her own life, every loss and sadness, every nightmare in the dark, every unexplained… — Kate Morton Copy Share
“tiempo tiene su peculiar manera de moldear a la gente de forma que ellos mismos ya no se reconocen,” — Kate Morton Copy Share
“She'd opened the front cover and fallen inside the wonderful, frightening, magical illustrations. She'd wondered what it must feel like to escape the rigid… — Kate Morton Copy Share
It's special, grandparents and grandchldren. So much simpler. Is it always so, I wonder? I think perhaps it is. While one's child takes a… — Kate Morton Copy Share
“... and I thought -not for the first time- what a true and simple pleasure it was, to be inside and sated when the… — Kate Morton Copy Share
“Nell was like a witch. Her long silvery hair rolled into a bun on the back of her head, the narrow wooden house on… — Kate Morton Copy Share
There's a market for mysteries for adults. That feeling of opening a book and delving inside and not coming out until you've closed the… — Kate Morton Copy Share
“I don’t have many friends, not the living, breathing sort at any rate. And I don’t mean that in a sad and lonely way;… — Kate Morton Copy Share
