Best 650 quotes in «witches quotes» category

..Abigail's singing while I painted. How we laughed so when no one was watching. And how finding a black-eyed Susan tucked into my business contracts reminded me of why I was doing that business in the first place. To really care for another is a reason to live.

Above all remember this: that magic belongs as much to the heart as to the head and everything which is done, should be done from love or joy or righteous anger.

A Baba Yaga never breaks a promise. Legs, yes. Hearts, occasionally. But never a promise.

a dense wall of greenery bordered it, ...an impenetrable barrier of oaks, evergreen shrubs, blackberry that somehow resisted the frost, and thorns. In the defense department, the witches would make Sleeping Beauty’s evil witch weep with jealousy.

A dragon for a familiar!" Trom exclaimed. "That's what I said to her or close to it anyway," the dragon said. "You're supposed to be helping me make you my familiar," I said to the dragon. "Yeah, I know; I meant for that to sound better than it did," the dragon replied.

A bedraggled woman stood on his doorstep in the pouring rain, and his first impulse was to slam the door in her face. But she had clearly come as far as she could; her pale face was twisted in pain, and she shivered convulsively beneath a denim jacket that was as soaking wet as the rest of her. Long black strands of hair hung down in twisted ribbons like seaweed in the vanishing daylight, reminding him of a sea creature he'd once dated briefly in his more adventurous youth.

Advice for the wise: You"d better bite your tongue Rather than cast a spell wrong.

A grimy ghost hovered above a smiling scarecrow that looked puny next to an oversized bat being watched by a wicked witch who was entangled in the web of an even larger spider that was in danger of being eaten by a bug-eyed owl that peeped out of the faux foliage, much more nostalgic than scary.

A Guardian lover is the last thing you need, Wynn Myfanwy, she told herself sternly. Too bad it was the very first thing she wanted.

Albert died in an unfortunate accident sometime ago and was raised as a zombie by his amateur necromancer friend, Neil. Bubba was a new friend we had acquired in Vegas when helping him gain back the freedom he had previously gambled away. The fourth member of our group, a government agent and my girlfriend named Krystal, was out of town for work this week, thus I was conducting my first weekly scrabble tournament with just the three of us. Which leaves only me to be accounted for in the explanation. My name. which I hope you know by now. is Frederick Frankford Fletcher and I am a vampire, though still not the type that inspires swooning or terror.

All I ask,” the doctor said, “is that you keep in mind that all creations, all advances, all inventions, come with a price. They can be used for good or they can be used for evil. But in my philosophy, mine is not to determine politics or to decide if a certain advance should be created. Mine is to determine if it could be created. There’s no use in debating the morals when I don’t even know if something will work.

All that Anne Rice crap is true, I thought on my way out the door; New Orleans really does have a vampire problem. Besides me, of course.

All the light was now coming from the East; and it looked breathtakingly new. In a very short time, everything was nationalized, from banks to factories, from pharmacies to little distilleries.

All you need is one thought and one word. When you learn how to connect them, you can do anything you like.

Alainn, it is no herb that has made me so entirely insatiable, 'tis just being with you.

A human wasn't an acceptable boyfriend for a witch; nor would a human wish to date a witch. The two would never in a million light years be interested in each other. Then, again, unwritten rules were made to be broken.

A miracle came in the form of a doctor whom her mother knew. He put her in a roasting pan and placed her above a fire to keep her warm.

Am I right in thinkin' you've maybe been" - he dropped his voice - "the victim of an infamous outrage by the darkies?

«And in the end» said the witch to the drowning prince «You've been the one choosing the thornless path in spite of knowing where it could lead. The one who afraid of the pricking roses, plunged himself into an abyss without petals

And it was true, there were rocks and there was smog, but there was also stars. The city was like life itself: good and bad, pretty and ugly, kindness and cruelty all in one. But most important, it simply was. And that felt like a kind of magic too.

And now Nineteen persons having been hang'd, and one prest to death, and Eight more condemned, in all Twenty and Eight, of which above a third part were Members of some of the Churches of N. England, and more than half of them of a good Conversation in general, and not one clear'd; about Fifty having confest themselves to be Witches, of which not one Executed; above an Hundred and Fifty in Prison, and Two Hundred more accused; the Special Commision of Oyer and Terminer comes to a period. —Robert Calef 1692

And people think she killed him?" said Miss Tick. She sighed. "They probably think she cooked him in the oven, or something." "They never actually said," said Tiffany. "But I think it was something like that, yes." "And did his horse turn up?" said Miss Tick. "No," said Tiffany. "And that was strange, because if it'd turned up anywhere along the hills, people would have noticed it..." Miss Tick folded her hands, sniffed, and smiled a smile with no humor in it. "Easily explained," she said. "Mrs. Snapperly must have had a really big oven, eh?" "No, it was really quite small," said Tiffany. "Only ten inches deep.

And oh, how she pitched herself into things. She would draw pictures all day long for weeks on end, then throw out the pencils and never draw another thing. Then it was embroidery with her, she had to learn it, and she'd make the most beautiful thing, fussing at herself for the least little mistake, then throw down the needles and be done with that forevermore. I never saw a child so changeable. It was as though she was looking for something to which she could give herself, and she never found it. Least ways not while she was a little girl.

And now about the cauldron sing Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in.

An understanding washed over Darren. You plan on me running.” “For many, many years.” The crooked smile on Trent’s mouth sent a shiver throughout my body. He was utterly dangerous when he wanted to be.

And that's what witches do: we look for magic, for divinity, in everything. What's more, we allow ourselves to find it, even in the seemingly mundane.

A pact must be kept and a secret must never be revealed ...” Pact of witches

Apparently, she was going to visit an evil witch with a scary poet vampire.

And to do something that helps your coven survive, even after your own death, is the greatest gift you can possibly give them…” --Angela from Angela’s Coven

Are you sure about this?" Rowan asked. "No," Lily shouted over the whipping wind. Her voice came out choked as it tried to get around her stomach, which was now lodged in her throat. "But it's the only way." Rowan looked over the side, his face serene as he timed it. Lily saw his willstone pulse as every sense in him sharpened, and he pulled her tightly against his body and launched them off the drake's neck into thin air. Lily shrieked uncontrollably, clutching at Rowan desperately as they fell.

Are ya trying' to kill me, lass?" "Kill you? No." Maggie leaned closer, her hands drifting up and cradling his face as she rolled her hips again in one wicked pass. "Torture you? Maybe.

Are ya tryin' to kill me, Maggie?" Declan bit the words out and his fingers dug deeper into her hips. "Are ya wantin' to see a grown man beg?

Apple Brandy?” “It’s for my tea,” she explained. “Medicinal, you know.” “Medicinal?” The Reverend tried to hide a smile. “Well, yeah,” Maddy started to smile herself. “Without the brandy, it’d be just some crumpled up leaves floatin’ in warm water… and that’d just make me sick!” --Aunt Maddy from The Ragtime Coven

Are you going to sit or are you afraid I’ll suck your blood?” “No, I am not afraid.” “Then come sit next to me.” ~ Trent and Kiara: Scarred

A rising tide of desire threatened to swamp her like a tidal wave, washing away fear and doubt and leaving behind it the knowledge that in her topsy turvy life, she was certain of only one thing: she wanted this man, right now, and she'd deal with the consequences later.... "I want to make love to you," he said, his voice low and thrumming through her veins as if it were a music only she could hear.

As my hair fell free, Cortez entwined his fingers in it and kissed me even harder. Then he slipped one hand from my hair and snapped his fingers over our heads. The lights went out.

A Seer dreams of all kinds of endings, but never a happy one for herself.

A sudden intake of breath escaped her as soon as his lips touched the backs of her fingers. His rose birthmark tingled as if awakened.

At its best, a coven is a spiritual community or a mutual aid society of witches who hang out.

At last the magic caught, and she managed to vault clumsily onto it before it trundled into the night sky as gracefully as a duck with one wing missing.

A tiny cage of butterflies suddenly buzzed around the inside of her gut. Her superhot professor wanted to take a nighttime stroll with her and he was offering her his jacket. Before she could decide whether she wanted to be the type of girl who did that sort of thing with her professor, which was clearly inappropriate, she grasped the leather jacket in her hands and slipped it on. Aw, shucks, who was she kidding? She totally was that kind of girl.

At Jenna's questioning glance, he explained, "As the White Rider, I used to wear all white. Few people here have ever seen me dressed in any other way. I wouldn't wonder that most of them could be standing right in front of me, wearing these clothes, and not even look twice." Jenna grinned at him. "Not if they're female, they won't. I doubt there's a woman alive who would not look twice at you, babe." He snorted, absurdly pleased by the flattery, although he tried not to show it. "We'll just have to try and stay away from women, then, won't we?

At the sight of Day, her whole face lit up. "Mikhail! You came! Barbara said you would, but that we might have to wait for hell to freeze over first. Did it?

A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, Granny Weatherwax had once told her, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.

Arkadia wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head upon the muscular cliff face he called his chest.

A witch is always a woman. I do not wish to speak badly about women. Most women are lovely. But the fact remains that all witches are women. There is no such thing as a male witch." (My own thoughts: I love women and I love witches)

A witch is someone who has dedicated her life to learning about the connections between things. She studies the different cycles and her place in them. She learns how to use the energy in herself and in the world to make changes. And most of all, she tries to make the world a better place for herself and other people.

Barbara felt lightheaded, almost dizzy with what she was about to say. But she said it anyway. "As you wish, Your Majesty. In that case, I am afraid I must resign my position as Baba Yaga. If I am forced to choose between the work I was destined to do and the man I was destined to love, I choose the man.

A year ago on my twenty-third birthday, I rebuffed the advances of a beautiful young woman whom I did not love. Alas, she turned out to be a sorceress. She repaid me by casting a spell that forces every female I touch to fall into a frenzy of lust." His mouth twisted bitterly. "Thus she robbed me of one of mankind's greatest gifts - the ability to seek and find true love.

Being noticed is what being a witch is all about - Margrat Garlick