In the middle, the river was a deep green, scattered with rocks poking their noses up for a breath. The water charged around them, creating eddies and whirlpools. Closer to the bank, the current dragged lengths of weed along with it so it seemed that long-haired women swam just under the surface, never coming up for air. Claire Fuller
I'm oxygen and he's dying to breathe.
-
Tahereh Mafi
I'm a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world.
-
Mother Teresa
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
-
Matt Groening
Happiness is the china shop love is the bull.
-
H.l. Mencken
People say that eyes are windows to the soul.
-
Khaled Hosseini
More Quotes By Claire Fuller
Writing does not exist unless there is someone to read it, and each reader will take something different from a novel, from a chapter, from a line.
Flora would have liked to ask her parents why the words ‘to father’ have such a different meaning from the words ‘to mother’.
In the middle, the river was a deep green, scattered with rocks poking their noses up for a breath. The water charged around them, creating eddies and whirlpools. Closer to the bank, the current dragged lengths of weed along with it so it seemed that...
