Best 397 quotes in «witch quotes» category

Our inner Witch isn't something we acquire. It's already within us. It's something we become ready and willing to experience. Something we realize we ARE.

Our place is here, our time is now!" Killian firmly declared.

Out in the stone-pile the toad squatted with its glowing jewel-eyes and, maybe, its memories. I don't know if you'll admit a toad could have memories. But I don't know, either, if you'll admit there was once witchcraft in America. Witchcraft doesn't sound sensible when you think of Pittsburgh and subways and movie houses, but the dark lore didn't start in Pittsburgh or Salem either; it goes away back to dark olive groves in Greece and dim, ancient forests in Brittany and the stone dolmens of Wales. All I'm saying, you understand, is that the toad was there, under its rocks, and inside the shack Pete was stretching on his hard bed like a cat and composing himself to sleep. ("Before I Wake...")

People give flowers as presents because flowers contain the true meaning of love. Anyone tries to possess a flower will have to watch its beauty fading. But if you simply look at a flower on a field, you will keep it forever, because the flower is part of the evening and the sunset and the smell of damp earth and the clouds on the horizon.

Perhaps we can start counting those kisses once more. I think you owe me a few.

Perhaps you would be better off finding some way to embrace your new nature, instead of fighting it.

Pray to whatever you believe in that they don't send the snakes.

Ronan shifted in the saddle, wishing for the thousandth time his heritage had been different. What would life have been like if he hadna been cursed whilst still in the womb? A great deal shorter. His bitter laugh misted in the cooling air of the early evening wood. Born in A.D. 900, the curse had accompanied him through three centuries searching for the one prophesied to set him free... The royal line would die out until the day the young wolf cub discovered how to shift into the form of a man and find the woman possessing three specific qualities: lightness of step, a soothing touch, and sight for the unseen.

Red hair like yours is unusual in all corners of the world. Other folk have often feared the red-haired as witches, or called them soul-less... But, it's the perfect color for a mage! Red is the color of the Earth itself, and of the fire that burns within it -- and of the blood in our own veins" - Lindel, Ancient Magus Bride, V4

Salem has become this... Mecca for Wiccans, but no witches died here. Aside from Tituba, no one practiced anything like witchcraft near here in colonial times. It was a bunch of bored Puritans who thought killing their neighbors at the behest of teenage girls was a fine, Christian form of entertainment and land acquisition.

Selene," Cheney cupped my face, "if this is the beginning of a confession, let me assure you I am not naive. You're a beautiful woman, and I have little doubt you have had a lot of boyfriends during our time apart. Please feel free to NEVER tell me about any of them. And if you never utter the name Michael again, it would be much appreciated." His eyes flashed at his name.

Shall we take it slow this time? Maybe I'll make you beg me to let you come." "I don't beg." He laughed wholeheartedly. "We'll see about that.

She eased across the creaking floorboards to the nearest window. The view encompassed the woods, with dark shapes smeared into one entity, like in her sketchbook. What lay amongst the trees?

She killed her sons first. Hammering a long fence nail through each of their hearts. Then, taking an ax, she methodically beheaded each one of her brothers-in-law. Going out to the pens, she drove the livestock into the barn, bolting it shut, and while the goat kids and spring lambs panicked and brayed, she put all the buildings to flame.

She points to where he went and looks to the neutral Baumen. “He—he did that to me on purpose! He’s insane. Literally, insane!” The munchkin just shrugs. “Welcome aboard!” and returns unconcerned to his work.

Quincy laughed. "If I were Elizabeth I shouldn't thank either of you for that comforting diagnosis. Would it do any good to open Aunt Sarai's grave and drive a stake through her? If you believe in as much sorcery as that, you must regret the days of witch-burners, Carew." Carew said quietly, "No. Witch-burners were barbarous blunderers. If I wanted to suppress a dangerous letter, could I do it by burning the envelope and leaving the letter loose? The witch would come back unchanged; I should merely have postponed the danger until another time and place. And have further handicapped myself to meet it, by depriving the witch, by violent death, of the years allotted her, or him, for evolution." Joseph said with dry humor, "She might not have used them for that, Carew. At least not for your idea of it." Carew shrugged. "That would be her responsibility, not mine. And, in any case, she would be that many years nearer the time of her inevitable change." This time Joseph did not answer, only smiled.

Sex is still on the table. We just keep the yucky love stuff out of it." ... "Now where is this table you speak of to have sex on? You should take me there. Now.

She sagged against the wall, finding it hard to breathe. It wasn’t from fear. Gods, she hadn’t been that turned on in years. If that was her punishment, she was going to be lippy a little more often

She narrowed her eyes at Ciera. “You know, for a smart lady, you’re kinda dumb about some real-life stuff, aren’t you?

She stared at the bullwhip coiled Indiana Jones-style at his narrow waist, then at the black-handled dagger sheathed on his right hip. An obsidian rapier--Fae-forged and unbreakable--almost merged with one of the taped seams that ran down the sides of his pants. He even wore a dagger gunslinger-style at his hip. Dear Goddess, the man was a walking arsenal, but he was sexy as hell.

She's magic, Cassandra. A single flower blooming in an endless desert.

She's as old as the hills, evil as a snake, all malevolence and magic and death.

She said, “Thank God. The spell didn’t recognize you as an enemy.” He gave in to his impulse at last and cupped her chin, stepping close so that he could feel the heat from her body. It was a subtle warmth that touched him in places he didn’t understand and had long denied existed. “That’s because I’m not your enemy, Sophie.

She wanted to lick her way across the sexy lettering on his chest just to hear his breath catch and feel the pounding of his heart beneath her tongue.

She swung around, her hair flying about her like wildfire. Fire. The fireplace. She reached in with all the power Todd had taught her to exercise and grasped as much as she could. She imagined gasoline spilling onto the logs, leaving trails of burning kerosene around the room. In her mind bright orange and red exploded in dazzling sparks. The oxygen seemed to thicken and swell around her. Then the entire room was alight with flame.

She swung around, her hair flying about her like wildfire. Fire. The fireplace. She reached in with all the power Todd had taught her ti exercise and grasped as much as she could. She imagined gasoline spilling onto the logs, leaving trails of burning kerosene around the room. In her mind bright orange and red exploded in dazzling sparks. The oxygen seemed to thicken and swell around her. Then the entire room was alight with flame.

Silent. So it should be. You have no place in this world, Luthiel. And there is no other.' Zalos reached out and lifted a few strands of her hair. 'Bright songs and the magic of hope are but a dangerous illusion. The fake comfort of witches charms.

She was both strikingly gorgeous and completely natural, and her perceptive eyes said she was not afraid to wield said power over a man.

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –

Some of the best advice you will ever hear will come from the forest.

Some of the more superstitious townsfolk even believed she was a witch. The fact that she had four dead husbands lined up in a neat row at the local Promise Land Cemetery was not an argument in her defense.

Sometimes thought Liir-his first thought in weeks and weeks-sometimes I hate this marvelous land of ours. It's so much like home, and then it holds out on you.

She was prisoner to an old, forgotten god, kept from her home, probably never to see it again, and yet... the way she sat, poised, calm, clear like a full moon night, she seemed much happier than me, the witch who contained them all, the jailer with the magic key.

Spellwork is a form of creation. Manifesting the invisible and the imaginable into real life verifiable forms, through perfectly natural means.

Son, if you were any farther from fine you'd be in Nebraska.

So, you're the Santa Claus of the magic world with a naughty and nice list?

Staring at a world too horrible to comprehend, believing -- by dint of ignorance and innocence -- that beneath this unbearable contract of guilt and blame there is always an older contract that may bind and release in a more salutary way.

Stop looking at my mouth.” His eyes darkened, as she saw his pupils dilate. He mouthed back, just as silently. “What if I don’t want to stop looking at your mouth?

Surface beauty: blond hair, blue eyes" - she was looking at me - "is always easy to recognize. But if someone is braver, stronger, smarter, that's harder to see." - Kendra Hilferty

Surrounded by death and decay rotting from bones to bones, my flesh lays bare the blubbery fat, traverse the land i shall, finding babies to devour, performing rituals of ancient magic, I, the witch of yore… Beware! i wander these places with guile and pure vice, All of you shall be my victims, I, the witch of yore, eternal dweller of internet message boards.

That little baggage hath witchcraft in her.

Take me deep into the woods, away from the others and make love to me, Killian, for I cannot bear to be parted from you any longer!” she whispered in his ear.

The enemy of her enemy was not necessarily her friend.

That’s quite the specific search...'Sadistic Old-Bag-Murdering Witches'—I can’t even begin to imagine what that involves.

That woman's been riding the same broomstick for almost a hundred years.

The man needed USDA Prime tattooed up his flank.

The mist enveloped her form. She was lifted into it, then instantly dropped. Swiftly, the mist retreated to the window. It was gone. The old woman lay flat on her back, eyes open and staring; her mouth open, too, unprettily. That was the over-all effect - the utter lack of anything beautiful. ("The Witch")

The Neo-Pagan Ten “Commandments” 1. Thou art God/dess. 2. As above, so below; as within so without. 3. Spirit abides in all things; words & names have power. 4. Maintain an attitude of gratitude (walk the talk). 5. Honor the ancestors, teachers, elders, and leaders. 6. All life is sacred. 7. All acts of love and pleasure are sacred. 8. Whatever you send out returns threefold. 9. Love is the law, love under will. 10. For the greatest good, an’ it harm none.

Then she’d straightened up and announced in irritation, “I’ve fallen out of time,” before vanishing in a great cloud of smoke.

Then what’s changed?” You are the only witch in all of Antebellum who has earned Deasyvla’s trust and fully merged with a dragon. She shrugged. “So?” You, Sanna of Anguis, are now the High Dragonmaster.