The mystery at the center of 'Burial Rites' is not who killed whom on the night of March 13, 1828. It is the mystery each of us encounters: Can we every truly know another? Can we ever truly know ourselves? — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
“Of all the names, one is a mistake. One is a nightmare. The stair you miss in the darkness.” — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
I applied for funding to embark on an overseas field trip in Iceland, and spent six weeks there happily holed up in the national… — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
“Those who are not being dragged to their deaths cannot understand how the heart grows hard and sharp, until it is a nest of… — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
“I might have starved to death. I would be mud-slick, stuffed to the guts with cold and hopelessness, and my body might know it… — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
“Illugastadir, the farm by the sea, where the soft air rings with the clang of the smithy, and gulls caw, and seals roll over… — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
I really hate the term 'historical novel' - it reminds me of bodice-rippers. But I'm hooked on research, and I really, really enjoy it. — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
“Some folks are born different, Nance. They are born on the outside of things, with skin a little a thinner, eyes a little keener… — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
“It was not hard to believe a beautiful woman capable of murder, Margret thought.As it says in the sagas, Opt er flago i fogru… — Hannah Kent Copy Share Image
