Best 397 quotes in «witch quotes» category

I'll even wear a white hat if it helps. Do you think they make white witch hats?

I looked into her eyes, and saw my own staring back, the same peculiar shade, pale grey, flecked with yellow, rimmed with black. Now I knew the nature of her debt. It had weighed on her conscience for fourteen years. I was looking into the eyes of mother and I knew that I would never see her again.

I looked up its history, and, surprisingly, it has quite a history. You know how in Europe they make you study a lot of stuff about the old alchemists and all that kind of stuff, to give you an historical grounding.' 'Yes?' Kemp laughed. 'You haven't got a witch around your place by any chance?' 'Eh!' The exclamation almost burned Marson's lips. He fought hard to hide the tremendousness of that shock. Kemp laughed again. 'According to 'Die Geschichte der Zauberinnen' by the Austrian, Karl Gloeck, Hydrodendon Barelia is the modem name for the sinister witch's weed of antiquity. I'm not talking about the special witches of our Christian lore, with their childish attributes, but the old tribe of devil's creatures that came out of prehistory, regular full-blooded sea witches. It seems when each successive body gets old, they choose a young woman's body, attune themselves to it by living with the victim, and take possession any time after midnight of the first full moon period following the 21st of June. Witch's weed is supposed to make the entry easier. Gloeck says... why, what's the matter, sir?' His impulse, his wild and terrible impulse, was to babble the whole story to Kemp. With a gigantic effort, he stopped himself; for Kemp, though he might talk easily of witches, was a scientist to the depths of his soul. ("The Witch")

I love you, Killian O’Brien. Every inch of you from your thick brown hair to your large warrior’s feet, and a good many inches in between.

I’m beginning to feel as though we’re in some kind of cocoon, I’m just afraid as to what we are going to emerge as. Will I fly away or will he destroy me.

I may not have journeyed to other lands, but a trip through the fairy glade is a journey few others have taken, and fewer still have spoken of. I will look forward to taking you with me, Killian. You will see why I always feel the need to return." He was not remotely certain he would ever share her sentiments.

I'm going to Hell in a basket Weaved in from my sins, Like wicker With little Wiccan ties As if I'm a witch Accused.

I'm still looking for books about them, as well as I am used to feed food every day.

In a town in Calabria, a long time ago, there lived an old lady everyone called Strega Nona, which meant "Grandma Witch".

In death, I love you still. So, forward! Aspire! Achieve! I remain, Daniel Blessing

I never said you had to like it. You have to accept it. No regret." - Clare Harding From the current book in writing BUMPKIN by Lani Brown.

In the Scotland of the early seventeenth century, an old woman living alone in Kirkcudbrightshire was accused of witchcraft and on conviction was rolled downhill in a blazing tar barrel. One of the charges against her was that she walked withershins round a well near her cottage which was used by other people. The well was afterwards known as the Witch's Well. These episodes must surely serve as cautionary tales to anyone tempted to transgress the usual custom of walking deasil round a holy well.

In my dream I drank fully of water, but when I woke, I was thirsty." Ned Low

In the gray world above, I hear myself howling with laughter. Far below me, in the psychic abyss that is part of the Darkness, I hear another howling, one full of joy and pain, rage and celebration. Not just another witch is coming, my foolish Sisters, but Witch.

I promise if you come to my car I won't cuff you unless..." his voice dropped in a sensuous tone, "...that's what you want.

In truth, I doubt I'd notice if a herd of giant Irish elk stomped through the entire chamber when I'm in the act of lovin' you, Lainna!

Intuition. Follow your gut and your moral compass about what is right and what is not. Just because you’ve made mistakes doesn’t mean you’re “evil,” and just because you’ve done something for someone else doesn’t mean you’re “good.” Try to throw those labels out. It all comes down to trusting yourself and thinking through actions and consequences.

I swear the man could seduce the holy mother!

Ironically people will thank a deity for "letting" them win a race, but blame a "witch" if they stumble, look for the nearest suspect, and kill them. Why not blame the deity? Why not accept the setback as easily as they accept the victory/ Time people grew up some, I think - and stopped looking for theoretical "somebodies" to blame for their own misfortunes.

Is the Starwife a witch?" asked Firgil. "Is any wise female a witch? Just because they have been blessed by the Green and given strange and beautiful gifts, does not mean they use them for evil purposes.

I think Ken should grow some balls and tell Barbie to piss off," Matt said after Ashley waved an accusing finger in Darren's (leg-puppy) face, then stomped off to a table beside a window.

It felt like, despite the years since the last spilt blood, the screams had taken root, imbuing the heavy stones with their echo.

I think she’s too ignorant to be a witch.

I think I could spend an eternity with you, Killian, and never tire of hearing you speak to me.

It's Coke, my man. You really think I'm going to let you pour any more alcohol into your body tonight?

I thought you guys could detect witches." Jonathan muttered as soon as he got over his shock at seeing two people materialise in front of him. The wiccan sat on the floor, his shoulder being strapped with a makeshift bandage, by the ever-practical Ian. "We detect magic, not witches." Hunter clarified. "We can't feel anything out of the ordinary, unless they start casting." "Oh fantastic!" Jonathan groaned. "I'll remember that excuse later.

I threw my hands on my hips, shocked by the irony. A Mather helping a Greensmith? Hell was freezing over somewhere beneath our feet and every kind of farm animal was sprouting wings to fly.

It is death that gives life its meaning.

It's going to be painful." "It's a fun tradition." "So was witch-burning," Melody said. "Unless you were the witch.

It wasn't every day a witch came to see him. Darius deCompostela gave up on the paperwork he'd been trying to fill out and leaned back in his chair. Semantics. Technically, Georgia Clare hadn't come to see him. She'd come to see MacMillian. Most people did, often with barely a sideways glance in his direction. Usually, that chafed. Not this time. For one thing, her reluctance to speak with him didn't seem to have anything to do with, well, him. For another thing, he didn't do witches.

It’s so … normal.” “I don’t eat small children.” “Shocking.

It sucks. I think you'd make a pretty snake woman, but I'm not really into that kind of girl. Those pointy teeth and slitted nose. Their mindless need to kill..." He shuddered.

It was Jaenelle's voice, but... She was medium height, slender, and fair-skinned. Her gold mane--not quite hair and not quite fur--was brushed up and back from her exotic face and didn't hide the delicately pointed ears. In the center of her forehead was a tiny, spiral horn. A narrow strip of gold fur traced her spine, ending in a small gold and white fawn tail that flicked over her bare buttocks. The legs were human and shapely, but changed below the calf. Instead of feet, she had dainty horse's hooves. Her human hands had sheathed claws like a cat's. As she shifted position to slip another shard into place, he saw the small, round breasts, the feminine curve of waist and hips, the dark-gold triangle of hair between her legs. Who...? But he knew. Even before she walked over and looked at him, even before he saw the feral intelligence in those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes, he knew. Terrifying and beautiful. Human and Other. Gentle and violent. Innocent and wise. *I am Witch,* she said, a small, defiant quiver in her voice. *I know.* His voice had a seductive throb in it, a hunger he couldn't control or mask.

It was so awful! And he kept on looking at me and I knew I must get out of bed or he'd come and touch me. I did, too, but when I got out I wasn't me-I was a little white bunny. And he started out of the room and I had to go with him for fear he'd touch me. It felt so horrid, going out with him and looking back at mother there asleep. "We went into the main part of the house, and one of the big front doors was open, and we went out through it. And then he gave a big jump, and so did I, and it took us clear up into the sky. We couldn't fly, but we kept jumping and jumping. "Sometimes we stayed in the sky a little while, jumping from cloud to cloud, and the moon would get closer and closer and bigger and bigger, and its face would change and get horrible and grin at us until it seemed like its mouth was a mile wide and open, to swallow us up. And then we'd come down again and jump from one cliff to another, and the sea would be roaring down under us, and the waves all grey and cold and moving around and boiling like they were mad or afraid. "We went all over the island and sometimes we jumped over the sea to the mainland and back again; and sometimes I tried to get away and run back to Mother - I thought she'd know me even if I was a bunny - but always, whichever way I turned, the hare was there in front of me, and his teeth were shining. "We kept it up all night, and I was so tired and cold and miserable, and so scared. I didn't know whether he would ever let me go home or whether he would take me to Aunt Sarai. Then finally I did get away and the hare chased me!" She broke off, her voice rising again to a wail. "It was so awful! I ran all over the island, into all sorts of queer little places that I never knew were there before - it seems so different after dark - and finally, when two or three times I'd been so tired that I thought I just couldn't go any farther, before he caught me, I saw the house in front of me and the front door still open and I started to run in, and then I thought - what if they'd planned it that way, and Aunt Sarai had come down from her portrait and was inside there in the dark, waiting for me?

I understand now that magic is not for wickedness, not for the devil, not for those with cruel hearts. It's for hope. For survival. It thrives in the darkness not because it is dark in nature but because the fire shines brightest then.

I understood something then. My sister might be twice the goddess I was, but I was twice the witch. Her crumbling trash could not help me.

I've no plans to couple with anyone other than my new bride for the next century or so, and it feels as though it's takin' a century to get to it!

Mairi was searching for her lost wolf. Ronan shook with a bitter chuckle. Little did the woman know, her lost wolf searched for her.

I will show you a love potion without drug or herb, or any witch's spell; if you wish to be loved, love.

I want to do everything to you, all at once,” he muttered. “I want to stroke you, fuck you, hold you down, lift you up, pin you, take you. I want you to take me. Lord and Lady, Sophie, I don’t know that I have any gentleness in me tonight.

Witch. The word drifted across his mind. We call such women so, because we have no other name.

I wish to know what you are doing here,” he whispered to the unknown woman, drumming his fingers on the road. “And what you might have to do with a stray puck and an enemy Queen.

Listen to the earth, Feel the fire. Allow the power to flow through ye.

Love when you can, and fight when you must, but stand together and never give up, not to the enemy, and not on each other.

Magick happens when you step into who you truly are and embrace that which fulfills your soul.

Magick is not just something you do. Magick is something you ARE.

Men have dragged us by our hair through the ages, and whether they give us crumbs or bright, shiny rocks, they truly give us nothing at all. If you have not opened your legs for them so that they could drawl out as babies or crawl in as men, they they will leave you to starve like a dog on the street. So now we are done playing the way they want us to play. Now we are moving to music they cannot hear, to a rhythm they cannot understand. They call it madness and we call it truth and find me the magistrate you can trust to judge between the two? Bah. So we dance on, we dance on.

Maxey? Do you believe in ghosts?

Maybe Paula was even Eileen's mùirn beatha dàn

May your glass always be full, may there always be a roof over your head, and may you dirty sinners be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're dead.