The great thing about books is that you can end with a question mark. Joanne Harris More Quotes by Joanne Harris More Quotes From Joanne Harris Their love was something which coloured the air between them like sunlight. Joanne Harris sunlightair Garden work clears the mind. Joanne Harris gardenmind I liked her better for showing a little spirit. Joanne Harris spiritlittles The wind always brings us back to the same wall Joanne Harris wallwind A little tantrum in real life seems so much bigger online. Joanne Harris tantrumsreallittles Children are knives, my mother once said. They don’t mean to, but they cut. And yet we cling to them, don’t we, we clasp them until the blood flows. Joanne Harris mothermeanchildren If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Joanne Harris beggarhorsewish I like autumn. The drama of it; the golden lion roaring through the back door of the year, shaking its mane of leaves. A dangerous time; of violent rages and deceptive calm, of fireworks in the pockets and conkers in the fist. Joanne Harris autumndoorsdrama If you want something you can have it, but you have to do some work. It's the ethic my mother brought me up with. Joanne Harris ethicswant-somethingmother It's a feeling which tells me that any woman can be beautiful in the eyes of a man who loves her. Joanne Harris eyebeautifulmen Was it my fault that I got out of hand? --Loki Joanne Harris faultshands I think everybody has a secret life. Joanne Harris secret-lifesecretthinking It isn't just a village. The houses aren't just places to live. Everything belongs to everybody. Everyone belongs to everyone else. Even a single person can make a difference. Joanne Harris making-a-differencedifferenceshouse I am fascinated by how people eat and what it reveals about them. Joanne Harris fascinatedpeople I'm not sure I believe in the whole 'ghost-afterlife' thing, but I think places are marked by people who have been there. Joanne Harris afterlifebelievethinking That wind. I see it's blowing now. Furtive but commanding, it has dictated every move we've ever made. My mother felt it, and so do I - even here, even now - as it sweeps us like leaves into his backseat corner, dancing us to shreds against the stones. V'la l'bon vent, v'a l'joli vent. I though we'd silenced it for good. But the smallest thing can wake the wind@ a word, a sign, even a death. There's no such thing as a trivial thing. Everything costs; it all adds up until finally the balance shifts and we're gone again, back on the road, telling ourselves - well maybe next time Joanne Harris motherwindmoving What is a writer of fiction but a liar with a licence? Joanne Harris liarsfiction One of the things that writing has taught me is that fiction has a life of its own. Fictional places are sometimes more real than the view from our bedroom window. Fictional people can sometimes become as close to us as our loved ones. Joanne Harris realviewswriting A man may plant a tree for a number of reasons. Perhaps he likes trees. Perhaps he wants shelter. Or perhaps he knows that someday he may need the firewood. Joanne Harris treenumbersmen I'm not fond of cities: the constant activity and swarms of people. Joanne Harris constantcitiespeople
