I carried recipes in my head like maps.
Joanne HarrisPlaces do not lose their identity, however far one travels. It is the heart that begins to erode over time. The face in the hotel mirror seems blurred some mornings, as if by too many casual looks. By ten the sheets will be laundered, the carpet swept. The names on the hotel registers change as we pass. We leave no trace as we pass on. Ghostlike, we cast no shadow.
Joanne HarrisNo point carrying useless ballast. It won't change a thing.
Joanne HarrisFiction is a tower of glass built from a million tiny truths, grains of sand fused together to make a single, gleaming lie.
Joanne HarrisThat's Catholicism for you. A perpetual war between repression and excess.
Joanne HarrisAnd so Nat stood up and joined the group, and followed, and watched, and awaited his chance as the light of Chaos lit the plain and gods and demons marched to war.
Joanne HarrisTags: runemarks joanne-harris norse-mythology
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 HarrisBut if you could travel back through Time, and find yourself as you used to be, wouldn't you try, just once at least, to give her some kind of warning? Wouldn't you want to make things right?
Joanne HarrisSome people spend the whole of their lives sitting waiting for one train, only to find that they never even made it to the station.
Joanne HarrisMore. Oh that word. That deceptive word. That eater of lives; that malcontent.
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