“We have come to live among specters, Sara tells herself. They are not people, but silhouettes sketched on a backdrop to deceive us into thinking that the stage is crowded. She searches for an expression, any expression, in their eyes… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
“Sara understood this passion that beset geologists. Their minds were heavy with theories shaped by fire and water, their pockets weighted with residual bits… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
I found I'm quite happy working on a sentence for an hour or more, searching for the right phrase, the right word. I compare… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
I have everything I need. A square of sky, a piece of stone, a page, a pen, and memory raining down on me in… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
“Writing derives from an accumulation of experience. It's as if you collect facts and observations over time, like a stone to stand on. From… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
During your life, everything you do and everyone you meet rubs off in some way. Some bit of everything you experience stays with everyone… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
memories are like corks left out of bottles. They swell. They no longer fit. — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
“Paco had a way with plants…Sara believed that whenever he walked under a tree it grew a new branch to shade him.” — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
“It is something they will see everywhere - a disregard for danger, a companionship with death. By the end of a year they will… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
“We have come to live among specters, Sara tells herself. They are not people, but silhouettes sketched on a backdrop to deceive us into… — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
“They have not considered that memories are like corks left out of bottles. They swell. They no longer fit.” — Harriet Doerr Copy Share Image
