“Why would a white caribou come down to Beaver River, where the woodland herd lives? Why would she leave the Arctic tundra, where the light blazes incandescent, to haunt these shadows? Why would any caribou leave her herd to walk,… — 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 tell by the way you're peeling that grapefruit. You want to get lost. Somewhere where they have ordinary life you can join in. Slip right in there and have a bowl of soup in the clothes… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share
“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 another one truthful or untruthful. To Thomasina people were rivers, always ready to move from one state of being into another. It was not fair, she felt, to treat people as if they were finished beings.… — Kathleen Winter Copy Share
“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
