I let it go. It's like swimming against the current. It exhausts you. After a while, whoever you are, you just have to let go, and the river brings you home.

Joanne Harris

Mots clés acceptance home



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It's a feeling which tells me that any woman can be beautiful in the eyes of a man who loves her.

Joanne Harris

Mots clés love



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I could do with a bit more excess. From now on I'm going to be immoderate--and volatile--I shall enjoy loud music and lurid poetry. I shall be rampant.

Joanne Harris

Mots clés music poetry excess rampant volatile



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Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.

Joanne Harris

Mots clés happiness heart simplicity torture chocolate bittersweet alive



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Guilleaume left La Praline with a small bag of florentines in his pocket; before he had turned the corner of avenue des Francs Bourgeois I saw him stoop to offer one to the dog. A pat, a bark, a wagging of the short stubby tail. As I said, some people never have to think about giving.

Joanne Harris


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...the Blessed Damozel essence of every dream and fairy story and legend and fear ...

Joanne Harris


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Like a domestic cat, purring on the sofa by day, but by night, a strutting queen, a natural killer, disdainful of her other life.

Joanne Harris


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Love not often, but forever.

Joanne Harris

Mots clés love



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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.

Joanne Harris


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Wine talks; ask anyone. The oracle at the street corner; the uninvited guest at the wedding feast; the holy fool. It ventriloquizes. It has a million voices. It unleashes the tongue, teasing out secrets you never meant to tell, secrets you never even knew. It shouts, rants, whispers. It speaks of great plans, tragic loves, and terrible betrayals. It screams with laughter. It chuckles softly to itself. It weeps in front of its own reflection. It revives summers long past and memories best forgotten. Every bottle a whiff of other times, other places, everyone...a humble miracle

Joanne Harris


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