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I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.

Joanne Harris

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Joanne Harris
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: July 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Things
Behinds
Never
Behind
Like
Grow
Grows
Awaiting
Chance
Fragments
Left
Seeds
Good
Leaving
Always
Tried

More quotes by Joanne Harris

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Remember, it's the winners write the history books, and the losers get the leavings.
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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.
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What is a writer of fiction but a liar with a licence?
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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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I am fascinated by how people eat and what it reveals about them.
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A little tantrum in real life seems so much bigger online.
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I'm phobic about the idea of being constrained.
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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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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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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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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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I think everybody has a secret life.
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I think if you are an outsider then you are an outsider always.
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Clones fit in. Freaks stand out. Ask me which one I prefer.
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Places have their own characters. . . . But the people begin to look the same.
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I'm not fond of cities: the constant activity and swarms of people.
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I speak as I must and cannot be silent.
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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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Their love was something which coloured the air between them like sunlight.
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