5 Quotes & Sayings By Carol Birch

Carol Birch is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author, and also writes contemporary romance and women's fiction. She has won the Romance Writers of America's RITA Award, and her novels have been translated into more than twenty languages. The recipient of the Pinnacle Award for Excellence in Contemporary Romance from RT Book Reviews Magazine, she is also a finalist for the Booksellers Best Award (Romantic Suspense), the Holt Medallion (Suspense), and the Golden Quill (Historical). Her novel, THE LAST SECRET, was named one of the best books of 2009 by Publishers Weekly Read more

She lives in central California with her domestic partner, two cats, a dog, a handsome husband, and a million things that need to be done.

1
It was then I truly realised the whale is no more a fish than I am. So much blood. This was not like the fish on the quay, fresh caught, lying flipping and flopping, death on a simmer. This was a fierce, boiling death. She died thrashing blindly in a slick of gore, full of pain and fury, gnashing her jaws, beating her tail, spewing lumps of slime and half-digested fish that fell stinking about us. It was vile. So much strength dies slowly. . Carol Birch
2
It’s one of the things I love about the sea, the way you can see weather afar. It’s like looking at the future. Carol Birch
3
It was the first smile of my life. Of course, that is a ridiculous thing to say; I had been smiled at often, the big man had smiled at me not a minute since. And yet I say: it was the first smile, because it was the first that ever went straight into me like a needle too thin to be seen. Carol Birch
4
Mr. Jamrach led me through the lobby and into the menagerie. The first was a parrot room, a fearsome screaming place of mad round eyes, crimson breasts that beat against bars, wings that flapped against their neighbours, blood red, royal blue, gypsy yellow, grass green. The birds were crammed along perches. Macaws hung upside down here and there, batting their white eyes, and small green parrots flittered above our heads in drifts. A hot of cockatoos looked down from on high over the shrill madness, high crested, creamy breasted. The screeching was like laughter in hell. . Carol Birch