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Quote by Claire Fayers

“What, everyone you know has been kidnapped by pirates and forced to chop octopus in a kitchen that smells like a whale's stomach?" "Quite a lot of them, yes," said Trudi, who appeared to be one of those people who'd heard of sarcasm but thought it was some sort of exotic fruit like a pineapple.”

Quote by Claire Fayers

Book:The Voyage to Magical North
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The Voyage to Magical North

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Claire Fayers

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WisdomJesusWaterLordEnemyFoodHatredAngerAdversityChaosHungerRevengeGoodTrialsDoctrineCrueltyBitternessBlessingsThirstyTeachingsEmbersYesuHekimaHasiraMemaMajiAduiChukiBwanaChakulaKing SolomonKisasiKiuMafundishoMajaribuNjaaFussinessHeavy LoadMatthew 5 44 45IndaMafutuMakaa Ya MotoMathayo 5 44 45Mfalme SulemaniMithali 25 21 22Mzigo MzitoProverbs 25 21 22ShariThawabuUkatiliVurugu
Author:Enock Maregesi
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“Mary had become anxious in her old age, and she hated being away from the house for long. She'd hold the girls' hands tightly and calm herself by telling them what she would make for first frost that year- pork tenderloins with nasturtiums, dill potatoes, pumpkin bread, chicory coffee. And the cupcakes, of course, with all different frostings, because what was first frost without frosting? Claire had loved it all, but Sydney had only listened when their grandmother talked of frosting. Caramel, rosewater-pistachio, chocolate almond.”

FoodAutumnFirst FrostWaverleysMary WaverleySydney WaverleyClaire Waverley
Book:First Frost
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“oxygen Everything needs it: bone, muscles, and even, while it calls the earth its home, the soul. So the merciful, noisy machine stands in our house working away in its lung-like voice. I hear it as I kneel before the fire, stirring with a stick of iron, letting the logs lie more loosely. You, in the upstairs room, are in your usual position, leaning on your right shoulder which aches all day. You are breathing patiently; it is a beautiful sound. It is your life, which is so close to my own that I would not know where to drop the knife of separation. And what does this have to do with love, except everything? Now the fire rises and offers a dozen, singing, deep-red roses of flame. Then it settles to quietude, or maybe gratitude, as it feeds as we all do, as we must, upon the invisible gift: our purest, sweet necessity: the air.”

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Book:Thirst
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