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I sell dreams, small comforts, sweet harmless temptations to bring down a multitude of saints crashing among the hazels and nougatines

Joanne Harris

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Joanne Harris
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: July 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Among
Multitude
Sweet
Multitudes
Dreams
Saints
Bring
Temptation
Small
Sell
Crashing
Sells
Harmless
Dream
Saint
Comforts
Comfort
Temptations

More quotes by Joanne Harris

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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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Nat Parson says it's the devil's mark. Nat Parson's a gobshite. Maddy was torn between a natural feeling of sacrilege and a deep admiration of anyone who dared call a parson 'gobshite.
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Online communities are an expression of loneliness.
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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.)
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Clones fit in. Freaks stand out. Ask me which one I prefer.
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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.
Joanne Harris
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Sheep are not the docile, pleasant creatures of the pastoral idyll. Any countryman will tell you that. They are sly, occasionally vicious, pathologically stupid. The lenient shepherd may find his flock unruly, definant. I cannot afford to be lenient.
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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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The process of writing is a little like madness, a kind of possession not altogether benign.
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What is a writer of fiction but a liar with a licence?
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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.
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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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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
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I can write absolutely anywhere. All I need is a laptop.
Joanne Harris
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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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She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.
Joanne Harris
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I think everybody has a secret life.
Joanne Harris
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I love it when my books cause controversy, when people argue violently about the ending.
Joanne Harris
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I'd rather be a freak than a clone.
Joanne Harris