She doesn’t look like a criminal, he thought. Not since she’s had a bath.
Hannah KentTag: criminal
It’s not fair. People claim to know you through the things you’ve done, and not by sitting down and listening to you speak for yourself.
Hannah KentI might have starved to death. I would be mud-slick, stuffed to the guts with cold and hopelessness, and my body might know it was doomed and give up on its own. That would be better than idly winding wool on a snowy day, waiting for someone to kill me.
Hannah KentI can turn to that day as though it were a page in a book. It’s written so deeply upon my mind I can almost taste the ink.
Hannah KentWhat else is God good for other than a distraction from the mire we’re all stranded in?
Hannah KentI cannot think of what it was not to love him. To look at him and realise I had found what I had not known I was hungering for. A hunger so deep, so capable of driving me into the night, that it terrified me.
Hannah KentI have made a mistake. They condemn me to death and I ask for a boy to coach me for it. A red-headed boy, who gobbles his buttered bread and toddles to his horse with the seat of his pants wet, this is the young man they hope will get me on my knees, full of prayer. This is the young man I hope will be able to help me, although with what and how I cannot think.
Hannah KentI can picture the way he looked, and recall the weather, and the play of light across his stubbled face, but that virgin moment is impossible to recapture.
Hannah KentHe knew me as one knows the seasons, knows the tide.
Hannah KentI preferred to read than talk with the others.
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