“It came from a different person, a person who had learned how to build a voice from the ruins up, a person who had lost everything and had begun from having worse than nothing. A person who had not given… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“The lullaby had the kind of tune everyone thinks they've heard before but can't remember where. A tune like that floats in the air all the time and now and then you catch it.” — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“It was not fair, she felt, to treat people as if they were finished beings. Everyone was always becoming and unbecoming.” — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“You might want to sit in public squares and people watch for an hour in one place and a month in another. I can… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“She was not a person who froze someone’s character in her mind, calling this one egotistical and that one not nearly confident enough and… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“Whenever she imagined her child, grown up without interference from a judgemental world, she imagined its male and female halves as complementing each other,… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
People are rivers, always ready to move from one state of being into another. It is not fair, to treat people as if they… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“Sometimes you had to be who you were and endure what happened to you, and to you alone, before you could understand the first… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“Why would a white caribou come down to Beaver River, where the woodland herd lives? Why would she leave the Arctic tundra, where the… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“It came from a different person, a person who had learned how to build a voice from the ruins up, a person who had… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
I think my writing process changes as I gain more life experience... It has taken me many years to be able to write a… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“She waited the eternal instant that women wait when a horror jumps out at them. It is an instant that men do not use… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“He had to remind himself that the work of a surgeon is poetry of a kind, in which blood is the meaning and flesh… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
“The lullaby had the kind of tune everyone thinks they've heard before but can't remember where. A tune like that floats in the air… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share Image
