“You aren't happy," Estela says. "I can't be happy," I say. "Look at me, Kenzie." "I'm looking at you, Estela." "Do you know your own heart?" "I don't know anything." "Go," she says, "and think. And don't come back until… — Beth Kephart Copy Share Image
Nature is not the number-one mystery, I’ve learned. It’s the heart that takes top honors. — Beth Kephart Copy Share
“Love is what you give and love is what you want and love is how you wait, but it doesn't save you” — Beth Kephart Copy Share
Step out from behind the words. When you're a writer you can imagine that the words speak for you and are you, but they're… — Beth Kephart Copy Share
Forgiveness, which is the place that every story turns, the chance we give each other. — Beth Kephart Copy Share
“Fox-Trot By the stream the fox and she-fox stood Nose to nose beneath the stars Dancing the music of the woods. The deer rapped… — Beth Kephart Copy Share
Here’s another change I’ve noticed: The dark is more than the sun dropping off, more than the moon and the stars. It’s what you… — Beth Kephart Copy Share
Nothing erodes [a mother's love]. It is not sand on a beach. It is the nuclear heart of things-hard as the rock of this… — Beth Kephart Copy Share
I believe friends enclose us, like a pair of parentheses. Each one knows us differently, each sustains us in a different way. — Beth Kephart Copy Share
“Anna would say that she was a cat like Gemma, with nine lives to spend, all nine precious and delicious.” — Beth Kephart Copy Share
“I hold to fiction as a cure, or partial cure, or cause for hope, or essential distraction from the rain you wake up to,… — Beth Kephart Copy Share
