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Quote by Kate Morton

“For all that "home" was considered a word of warmth and comfort, policemen knew better. Home is where the heart is, and the heart could be a dark and damaged place.”

Quote by Kate Morton

Work

Homecoming

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Author

Kate Morton
Kate Morton

Kate Morton, born in 1976, is an acclaimed Australian author known for her intricate family histories and emotional storytelling. more

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“Lucien asked, 'What is this place?' We all looked at him. 'Home,' I said. 'This is- my home.' I could see the details now sinking in. The lack of darkness. The lack of screaming. The scent of the sea and citrus, not blood and decay. The laughter of children that indeed continued. The greatest secret in Prythian's history. 'This is Velaris,' I explained. 'The City of Starlight.' His throat bobbed. 'And you are High Lady of the Night Court.' 'Indeed she is.”

“Sunlight still leaked in through the windows of the town house. The scent of citrus and the sea and baked bread still filled every room. And distantly... Children were still laughing in the streets. Home. Home was the same- home was untouched. I squeezed Rhys's hand so tightly I thought he'd complain, but he only squeezed tight back. And even thought we had all bathed, as we stood there... there was a grime to us. Like the blood hadn't entirely washed off. And I realised that home was indeed the same, but we... perhaps we were not.”

“Rhys pressed a kiss to my hair. 'You're home.' A shuddering, small sound came out of me as I nodded, squeezing him tighter. Home. Not just Velaris, but wherever he was, our family was. Ebony claws stroked along the barrier in my mind- in affection and request. I lowed my shields for him, just as his own dropped. His mind curled around mine, as surely as his body now held me. 'I missed you every moment, ' Rhys said, leaning down to kiss the corner of my mouth. 'Your smile.' His lips grazed over the shell of my ear and my back arched slightly. 'Your laugh.' He pressed a kiss to my neck, right beneath my ear, and I titled my head to give him access, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster as he murmured, 'Your scent.”

“As she stepped through the front door onto the verandah, a warm breeze brushed her face and she felt a heavy wave of deep familiarity: the smell of eucalyptus and sunbaked dirt, the light so bright it put creases around her eyes just to look at it. The slender blue gums on the ridge, ancient and watchful. This was the landscape of her childhood and she would never be able to escape its influence. But just as Daniel Miller had brought her to Halcyon, the books that she'd read as a child, lying beneath the ferns at Darling House, had taken her to lands where trees with names like oak and chestnut and elm grew in great, ancient forests, and the soil was moist and the sun was gentle, where there were magical words like "hedgerow" and "conker," and snow kissed the glass of windows in winter, and children went sledding at Christmas and ate "pudding" and "blancmange." And so, she had come to know another landscape, not just intellectually, but viscerally: a landscape of the imagination as real to her as the geographical landscape in which she moved. When she first arrived in England as a twenty-year-old graduate, she had stepped off the plane and known it already. Standing here now, looking across the valley toward the facing hill, Jess could imagine how homesick Isabel must have felt at times. She herself had been thinking about "home" a lot. Home, she'd realized, wasn't a place or a time or a person, though it could be any and all of those things: home was a feeling, a sense of being complete. The opposite of "home" wasn't "away", it was "lonely." When someone said, "I want to go home," what they really meant was that they didn't want to feel lonely anymore.”