THE GOSPEL OF LOKI - JOANNE HARRIS

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 249

   People tend to blame Chaos whenever anything goes wrong, but in fact most of the time Chaos doesn't need to intervene. The Folk don't need any help when it comes to massacring one another. You name it, they did it—murder, rape, the sacrifice of infants—all the time blaming the sunless sky, when the darkness was already there, in their hearts.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 194

   Well, that's history for you, folks. Unfair, untrue, and for the most part written by folk who weren't even there.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 194

   And so on, throughout the animal world, the plant world, the mineral world. It was the longest lullaby the Nine Worlds had ever known, and a hymn to maternal love, was almost enough to touch my heart.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 173

   Of course, Death and Dream are very close. Their territories intersect, which is why we so often dream of the dead. They dream of us, too, in their watery way.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 171

   Around me, the hot dry wind of Hel stirred the souls of the departed into a kind of half sentience. I could feel them drawn to me, sensing the warmth of a living being. Not a pleasant feeling. I made a mental note to myself to try to avoid Death as long as I could.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 170

   Power had taken its toll on him, and knowledge was eroding the rest. Perfect knowledge was what he'd craved, but with perfect knowledge, illusions die, including such perennials as friendship, love, and loyalty.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 169

   I don't pretend to know much about love, but that's how great loves come to an end, not in the flames of passion, but in the silence of regret.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 79

   And that's why the Goddess of Desire has two Aspects: the Maiden, ripe and beautiful as a golden peach in summertime; and the Crone, the carrion demon of battle, hideously beautiful, gloved in blood to her armpits and screaming with unsatisfied lust.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 53

   All around there were objects of gold—jewellery, swords, shields—all embossed and gleaming with the soft sheen of beautiful things kept in darkness.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 34

   Sweaty, hairy warlords with no polish and no address, whose idea of a good time was to kill a few giants, wrestle a snake, and then eat an ox and six suckling pigs without even taking a shower first, whilst belching a popular folk song. Of course the ladies gave me the eye.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 7

   And that's why the King of Stories ended up being King of the gods, because writing history and making history are only the breadth of a page apart.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 6

   But that's how religions and histories make their way into the world, not through battles and conquests, but through poems and kennings and songs, passed through generations and written down by scholars and scribes. And that's how, five hundred years later or so, a new religion with its new god came to supplant us—not through war, but through books and stories and words.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 2

   "Sticks and stones may break my bones," as they say in the Middle Worlds, but with the right words you can build a world and make yourself the king of it.

The Gospel of Loki - Pg 2

   I happen to know that history is nothing but spin and metaphor, which is what all yarns are made up of, when you strip them down to the underlay. And what makes a hit or a myth, of course, is how that story is told, and by whom.

CHOCOLAT - JOANNE HARRIS

Chocolat - Pg 289

There would be time for grieving later. For the moment, simple wonder; at myself lying naked in the grass, at the silent man beside me, at the immensity above and the immensity within. 

Chocolat - Pg 272

Of course it might have been one of her delusions. There were others, like the snake under the bedclothes and the woman in the mirrors. It could have been make-believe. So much of my mother's life was just that. And besides--after so long, what did it matter? 

Chocolat - Pg 269

I lie awake almost every night now, sugarplums dancing before my eyes. Anouk sleeps in her new attic bedroom, and I dream awake, doze, wake adream, doze, until my eyelids glitter with sleeplessness and the room pitches around me like a rolling ship. 

Chocolat - Pg 235

I tell myself--in the small hours when everything seems possible and my nerves shriek like the unoiled hinges of the weathervane--that my fear is irrational.