The Massacre of Glencoe happened at 5am on 13th February 1692 when thirty-eight members of the Macdonald clan were killed by soldiers who had enjoyed the clan's hospitality for the previous ten days. Many more died from exposure in the mountains. Fifty miles to the south Corrag is condemned... read more
“Was I mending myself? I think so. I was tying a knot in the old, past things—for so much was lying ahead of me. So much was to come.”
“But maybe the best thing I learnt was this: that we cannot know a person’s soul and nature until we’ve sat beside them and talked.”
“Folk seem to fill their lives with favours or a title or two--as if these are the things which matter, like happiness lies in a coin. Like the natural world and our place in it is worth far less than a stuffed purse, or a word like earl or duke. Perhaps, for them, it is.”
I think that maybe in our lives—in our scrabbling for food, in the washing of our bodies and warming of them, in our small daily battles—we can forget our souls.Highlighted by 5 Kindle customers
Sometimes we have so much to say, we cannot say it. Sometimes it is best we do not say goodbyes.Highlighted by 5 Kindle customers
We all have it. But I think it is people like us—lonesome, in love with the blustery world—who hear the heart most clearly. We hear its breath, feel its turns. We see what it half-sees.Highlighted by 4 Kindle customers
Your heart’s voice is your true voice. It is easy to ignore it, for sometimes it says what we’d rather it did not—and it is so hard to risk the things we have. But what life are we living, if we don’t live by our hearts? Not a true one. And the person living it is not the true you.Highlighted by 4 Kindle customers
truth—that there will always be the signs that a life was lived. Children, tales, words they said. Places they named. Marks they left in dust, or on bark. People they loved, and told so.Highlighted by 3 Kindle customers
Like light, it needs the other—the dark—to be called light at all.Highlighted by 3 Kindle customers
Lives mean far more than deaths ever do. It is what we remember—the life. Not how they died, but how warm and bright-eyed they were, and how they lived their lives.Highlighted by 3 Kindle customers
Letter
One: Chapters I-II
Two: Chapters I-IV
Three: Chapters I-X
Four: Chapters: I-II
Five: Letter, Chapter I
Afterword
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