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The right circumstances sometimes happen of their own accord, slyly, without fanfare, without warning. Layman's alchemy. . . . The magic of everyday things.

Joanne Harris

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Joanne Harris
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: July 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Magic
Slyly
Happen
Fanfare
Happens
Layman
Without
Alchemy
Right
Accord
Sometimes
Warning
Things
Everyday
Circumstances

More quotes by Joanne Harris

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I can write absolutely anywhere. All I need is a laptop.
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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.
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I think everybody has a secret life.
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I carried recipes in my head like maps.
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Clones fit in. Freaks stand out. Ask me which one I prefer.
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The great thing about books is that you can end with a question mark.
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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.
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I liked her better for showing a little spirit.
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You priests. You're all the same. You think fasting helps you think about God, when anyone who can cook would tell you that fasting just makes you think about food.
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What is a writer of fiction but a liar with a licence?
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People reveal so much of their mental processes online, simply because the psychological effect of anonymity just means that a whole raft of inhibitions are left alone when people log on.
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As authors, we all expect criticism from time to time, and we all have our ways of coping with unfriendly reviews.
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Some things can be both real and imaginary at the same time, . . . some lies can be true, . . . broken faith may be restored.
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We came in the wind of the carnival. A wind of change, or promises. The merry wind, the magical wind, making March hares of everyone, tumbling blossoms and coat-tails and hats rushing towards summer in a frenzy of exuberance.
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Death should be a celebration. Like a birthday. I want to go up like a rocket when my time comes, and fall down in a cloud of stars, and hear everyone go: ahh!
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The process of giving is without limits.
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Life is what you celebrate. All of it. Even its end.
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Everything comes home, my mother used to say every word spoken, every shadow cast, every footprint in the sand. It can't be helped it's part of what makes us who we are.
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A little tantrum in real life seems so much bigger online.
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The dead know everything but they don't give a damn.
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