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Drunkeness, she told us in a rare moment of confidence, is a sin against the fruit, the tree, the wine itself. Wine, distilled and nurtured from bud into fruit it deserves reverance. Joy. Gentleness. (Page 194.)

Joanne Harris

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Joanne Harris
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: July 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Deserve
Bud
Confidence
Gentleness
Sin
Deserves
Tree
Rare
Joy
Page
Told
Fruit
Moment
Pages
Distilled
Moments
Wine
Nurtured

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I speak as I must and cannot be silent.
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The battle of good and evil reduced to a fat woman standing in front of a chocolate shop, saying, Will I? Won’t I? in pitiful indecision.
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This isn't the first time the world has come to an end, and it won't be the last either.
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Anything based on ancient texts is difficult for a modern reader to get their head around.
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To be closed from everything, and yet to feel, to think...This is the truth of hell, stripped of its gaudy medievalisms. This loss of contact.
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Our lives are like these things I make. Turn 'em, build 'em, bake 'em in fire. That's what you've been, son. Baked and fired. But a pot don't have the right to choose whether he be for water, wine, or just left empty. You have, son. You have.
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Remember, it's the winners write the history books, and the losers get the leavings.
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A little tantrum in real life seems so much bigger online.
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Their love was something which coloured the air between them like sunlight.
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I'm phobic about the idea of being constrained.
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Places have their own characters. . . . But the people begin to look the same.
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But I rather thought--I mean, I heard you'd killed Balder the Fair. I never did, snapped Loki crossly. Well, no one ever proved I did. What happened to the presumption of innocence? Besides, he was supposed to be invulnerable. Was it my fault that he wasn't?
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