Enchantress Quotes

Think of every fairy-tale villainess you've ever heard of. Think of the wicked witches, the evil queens, the mad enchantresses. Think of the alluring sirens, the hungry ogresses, the savage she-beasts. Think of them and remember that somewhere, sometime, they've all been real. Mab gave them lessons.

Love is an enchantress—devious and wild. It sneaks up behind you, soft and gentle and quiet, just before it slits your throat.

Anyone can have a once-upon-a-time or a happily-ever-after, but it's the journey between that makes the story worth telling.

When in doubt, we follow our hearts. Words can be false, images and sounds can be manipulated. But this...' He tapped his chest, over his heart. 'This is always true.

Intelligence is not a competition," she said. "There is plenty to go around, and there are many ways it can be demonstrated.

People only love you as long as they're getting something of you, but the minute you say something they don't want to hear or do something they don't want to see, all the admiration drains from their hearts.

Lady of the silver moon Enchantress of the night Protect me and mine within this circle fairly cast. Earth Mother, mother of the sleeping earth, Keep safe all who gather here Within the protective shelter of your arms. By the earth that is Her body, By the air that is Her breath, By the fire that is Her bright spirit, And by the living waters of Her womb, Our circle is cast, None shall come to harm here, From any forces, On any level. As we will, So shall it be done. As we will, So mote it be.

What is the greatest mistake a parent can make?' she asked. 'To believe that your children will be just like you.

Last night, Dixon had suggested combat boots in place of Carrow’s own—her two-thousand-dollar, gathered-leather, over-the-knee boots. “Do you want me to go in as an enchantress or a warrior?” Carrow had asked testily. “Pick a caste, any caste, mortal. I myself think I have the best chance as an enchantress. And fuck-me boots are standard-issue.

The cruelest thing you can do to someone is force them to hurt alone

My most scientific analysis, with all means of science and technology in mind, is that it's magic.

Make as much racket as you like people. Noise is life and an excess of noise is a sign that life is good. There will be time for us all to be quiet when we are safely dead.

A warrior with a cause is the most dangerous soldier of all

Jealousy is just a reminder of the frustrations you have with yourself.

We do not always get what we want. Sometimes life presents us with surprises.

Your home is where you feel most comfortable and loved,

Distance makes everything beautiful.

As long as someone remains standing with a noble heart there will always be a way for good to triumph over evil.

If you were an atheist, Birbal," the Emperor challenged his first minister, "what would you say to the true believers of all the great religions of the world?" Birbal was a devout Brahmin from Trivikrampur, but he answered unhesitatingly, "I would say to them that in my opinion they were all atheists as well; I merely believe in one god less than each of them." "How so?" the Emperor asked. "All true believers have good reasons for disbelieving in every god except their own," said Birbal. "And so it is they who, between them, give me all the reasons for believing in none." -- From "The Shelter of the World

JUST BECAUSE ANYONE CAN, DOESN'T MEAN EVERYONE SHOULD (Mrs. Peters to Conner Bailey)

There was no honor in war, less in killing, and none in dying. But there was true dignity in how men comported themselves in battle. And there was always honor to be found in standing for a just cause and defending the defenseless.

What are our options? If I have the choice of being doubtful or being hopeful, I’m going to choose hopeful. It takes less work to be positive.

For every tear that rolled down Conner's face there were a dozen he fought back.

This may be the curse of human race . Not that we are different from one anther , but we are so alike .

My horizon's have shrunk and I have only endings to write.

In my experience, we only ever regret the things we have not done

Without water we are nothing", the traveler thought. "Even an emperor, denied water, would swiftly turn to dust. Water is the real monarch and we are all its slaves.

There's nothing you're going to say now or in a year that I wouldn't have thought about a hundred times," Alex said.

But anyone can write, right?'" Conner asked. "I mean, that's why authors get judged so harshly, isn't it? Because technically everyone could do it if they wanted to." "Just because anyone can do something doesn't mean everyone should," Mrs. Peters said. "Besides, anyone with an Internet connection feels they have the credentials to critique or belittle anything these days.

All true believers have good reasons for disbelieving in every god except their own,' said Birbal, 'and so it is they who, between them, give me all the reasons for believing in none.

Thank you for your enthusiasm. Earlier today I told another student I was getting new encyclopedias - he asked me how long I'd be in the hospital!

Wherever goodness lay, it did not lie in ritual, unthinking obeisance before a deity but rather, perhaps, in the slow clumsy, error-strewn working out of an individual or collective path.

Language upon a silvered tongue affords enchantment enough.

The human mind is incredible. It can do nothing without belief, yet practically anything with it.

Having something worth telling and a passion to tell it are what make you a good writer. I can't tell you how many times I've read novels or articles that used complicated words and witty wordplay to cover up the fact that they had absolutely no story to tell. A good story should be enjoyed; sometimes simplicity can go a long way.

No man is ever just one thing.

I'm sorry I could never be the brother you wanted," Rumpelstiltskin said. "But one day I'll make things right between us. One day I'll be a brother you can be proud of.

Travel was pointless. It removed you from the place in which you had a meaning, and to which you gave meaning in return by dedicating your life to it, and it spirited you away into fairylands where you were, and looked, frankly absurd.

Should we call her?Maybe we should give her a RING to see where she is? Get it? Get it? -Conner Bailey

Forgiveness is what we all need to forget the past, even if we

...that witchcraft requires no potions, familiar spirits, or magic wands. Language upon a silver tongue affords enchantment enough.

There are some adventures not worth having.

Thank you for joining me today, Hoodians! I wish you all peace and poverty!” “Prosperity, my dear! Prosperity!” Froggy corrected her. “I mean peace and prosperity!” Red declared.

Do I look like an expert in cloaked mammals?

People who love each other can no more keep from communicating than from breathing.

Always have a plan B and a friend with bail, and you’re guaranteed to never fail,” Mother Goose said and took another drink. “That’s my motto.

Say something to it!” Alex elbowed her brother. “What am I supposed to say? I don’t speak ghost!” The spirit stopped and hovered a few feet in front of them.

If you all will please excuse me,” Red said and headed out of the courtyard. “I think I’m going to lie down for a minute. My life has suddenly become a Shakeyfruit play.

Thus the Great Mother is uroboric: terrible and devouring, beneficent and creative; a helper, but also alluring and destructive; a maddening enchantress, yet a bringer of wisdom; bestial and divine, voluptuous harlot and inviolable virgin, immemori-ally old and eternally young.4

Her hands flew to her mouth. 'Are we even twins?' Josh rested his hand on her shoulder and brought his forehead to rest against hers, strands of their blond hair mingling. 'I will always be your brother, Sophie. I will always look after you.

So the captain, the first officer and the ship's doctor and sometimes the engineer all beam down to a planet. Together." "The entire complement of the senior officers?" Billy nodded "And who has the command of the ship?" "I don't know. Junior officers I guess." "If they worked for me I would have them court-martialed. That sounds like a dereliction of duty." "I know. I know. I always thought it odd myself. But that's not the point." "What is the point?" "They're usually accompanied by a guy in the red shirt. Always a crew member you've never seen before. And as soon as you see the shirt, you know he's going to die.

Anyone who thinks the sky is the limit, has limited imagination.

Have you any idea how to wake a hibernating Elder?” Machiavelli shook his head. “Mars, what about you? Any advice?” “Yes. Don’t.

Why obliterate the exceptional merely in order to make the outstanding look finer than it was?

Must a man then live as his fellows live, and never reach beyond?

He had picked up languages the way most sailors pick up diseases; languages were his gonorrhoea, his syphilis, his scurvy, his ague, his plague.

Tell me, storyteller, what is the greatest mistake a parent can make? -To believe that your children will be just like you

Knowledge was never simply born in the human mind; it was always reborn. The relaying of wisdom from one age to the next, this cycle of rebirths: this was wisdom.

O blessed idleness! Divine lazy nymph! Reach me a novel as I lie in my dressing-gown at three o'clock in the afternoon; compound a sherry-cobbler for me, and bring me a cigar! Dear slatternly, smiling Enchantress! They may assail thee with bad names—swear thy character away, and call thee the Mother of Evil; but, for all that, thou art the best company in the world!

Would you that ever find yourself walking the Road, trudging without purpose, seeking some journey's end, I give you this warning. The Road is a living being. She is an enchantress and She has a long reach.

Think of every fairy-tale villainess you've ever heard of. Think of the wicked witches, the evil queens, the mad enchantresses. Think of the alluring sirens, the hungry ogresses, the savage she-beasts. Think of them and remember that somewhere, sometime, they've all been real.

He was seated on the bench now. He had his left elbow on his knee, his right arm across his lap, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. White face, red hair: snow and fire, like something from an old tale. The book I had noticed earlier was on the bench beside him, its covers shut. Around Anluan's feet and in the birdbath, small visitors to the garden hopped and splashed and made the most of the day that was becoming fair and sunny. He did not seem to notice them. As for me, I found it difficult to take my eyes from him. There was an odd beauty in his isolation and his sadness, like that of a forlorn prince ensorcelled by a wicked enchantress, or a traveller lost forever in a world far from home.

Just because anyone can do something doesn't mean everyone should. Besides, anyone with an Internet connection feels they have the credentials to critique or belittle anythimg these days

...Until they stood at last by a crumbling wall, looking up and up and still farther up at the great tombyard top of the old house. For that's what it seemed. The high mountain peak of the mansion was littered with what looked like black bones or iron rods, and enough chimneys to choke out smoke signals from three dozen fires on sooty hearths hidden far below in dim bowels of this monster place. With so many chimneys, the roof seemed a vast cemetery, each chimney signifying the burial place of some old god of fire or enchantress of steam, smoke, and firefly spark. even as they watched, a kind of bleak exhalation of soot breathed up out of some four dozen flues, darkening the sky still more, and putting out some few stars.

Sometimes by a woodland stream he watched the water rush over the pebbled bed, its tiny modulations of bounce and flow. A woman's body was like that. If you watched it carefully enough you could see how it moved to the rhythm of the world, the deep rhythm, the music below the music, the truth below the truth. He believed in this hidden truth the way other men believed in God or love, believed that truth was in fact always hidden, that the apparent, the overt, was invariably a kind of lie.

A demonstration is more than worth a thousand words.

History could claw upward as well as down. The powerful could be deafened by the cries of the poor.

What is it, I wonder, that makes two people suddenly become important to each other? So important that everything else around them just fades away?

Do I look like I watch Star Trek?

You see, I came into this world just like I’m assuming you did—full of excitement and promise. I wanted to do so much good work, help so many people, and give as much as I could to those who needed me. But then I learned a very harsh lesson—the world doesn’t always give back. I am not a tragic case of the world; I am the world—cruel, unfair, and not a fairy tale. People are not born heroes or villains; they’re created by the people around them. And one day when your bright-eyed and bushy-tailed view of life gets its first taste of reality, when bitterness and anger first run through your veins, you’ll discover that you are just like me—and it’ll scare you to death.

Forget this world and all its troubles and if possible its multitudinous Charlatans--everything in short but the Enchantress of Numbers.

The Enchantress,” Sleeping Beauty whispered to herself. “She’s back.

To quote a girl I know, ‘My most scientific analysis, with all means of science and technology in mind, is that it’s magic,’ ” he said. Alex laughed. “How do you remember that?” she

With this contradictory parentage of mine: solid English earth and French water goddess, one could expect anything from me. An enchantress or an ordinary girl. There are some who will say I am both.

After seeing amazing magical places like Neverland, Oz, Narnia and Wonderland, why did you ever want to leave?" The girls looked to one another; they had never been asked the question before, at least in Alex's mind. "Because no matter where you go or what you see, you'll always want to be where you belong," Lucy said. "Your home is where you feel most comfortable and loved," Wendy said. "It's a part of you," Alice added. "It's where your family is." "There's no place like home," Dorothy said, as if it was the first time she'd ever said those words. Alex appreciated what they had to say, but wasn't sure if she entirely agreed. "I wonder, though, if home sometimes isn't where you're from," she said. The girls looked at her as if she had already answered her own question. Alex wondered if that had been the real question lingering in her mind all along.

Each of her words was the skip of a stone across a lake, forming ripples of emotion. The Queen of Inys could not cast illusions, but her voice and bearing on this night had turned her into an enchantress.

Once upon a time there was a handsome prince who was cursed by an evil witch. No. Once upon a time there was an illegitimate prince—the son of the King—who was sentenced to insanity by a wicked witch and was rescued by the curse of a beautiful enchantress.

I don't need my Other-half, I'm not a HALF...

night. “Will you ever teach us magic, Grandma?

Then a strange moment came, a moment of the kind that determines the fate of nations, because when a crowd loses its fear of an army the world changes.

There are different kinds of truth. And if our kind is more mature than theirs, it's so only because we know that.

Perenelle shuddered. "You know I hate leprechauns more than almost anything.

BILLY: Did you ever watch Star Trek? MACHIAVELLI: Do I look like I watch Star Trek? BILLY: It's hard to tell who's a Trekkie. MACHIAVELLI: Billy, I ran one of the most sophisticated secret service organizations in the world. I did not have time for Star Trek. (pause) I was more of a Star Wars fan. Why do you ask? BILLY: Well, when Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock beamed down to a planet, usually with Dr. McCoy and sometimes with Scotty from engineering... MACHIAVELLI: Wait a minute--what's Mr. Spock again? BILLY: A Vulcan. MACHIAVELLI: His rank. BILLY: The first officer. MACHIAVELLI: So the captain, the first officer, the ship's doctor, and sometimes the engineer all beam down to a planet. Together. The entire complement of the senior officers? BILLY: (nods) MACHIAVELLI: And who has command of the ship? BILLY: (shrug) I don't know. Junior officers, I guess. MACHIAVELLI: If they worked for me I'd have them court-martialed. That sounds like a gross dereliction of duty. BILLY: I know. I always thought it was a little odd myself.

Mother Goose chuckled to herself. “Jack is nimble, Jack is quick—but Jack can be such a—” She stopped herself from finishing the thought, perhaps remembering she was talking to thirteen-year-olds. “I think I’ve had enough bubbly for one night. It’s time for bed anyway.

NO" made him angry but set her free.

Every time history repeats itself, the price goes up.

The greatest test of courage is to bear defeat without losing heart. —The Evermen Cycles,

Sometimes I think if I blink, you'll disappear

Love is an enchantress--devious and wild. It sneaks up behind you, soft and gentle and quiet, just before it slits your throat.

You're magic,' he said simply. His eyes had locked on hers, and she found she could not look away. 'I've said it before. You're a magic person, Jo. I sometimes think you might be. . .an enchantress.

Don’t be creative. Don’t be stupid.” “That’s what Machiavelli said. You guys really have a lot of faith in me, don’t you?” “Neither one of us wants to lose you. Just be careful, Billy. Careful is my middle name.” Black Hawk rolled his eyes. “You told me it was Henry.

Or maybe he just rediscovered his humanity,” Niten said quietly. “Maybe someone reminded him that he is human first, immortal second.” “You said as if you are speaking from personal experience,” Perenelle said.” “I am,” he said softly. “There was a time when I was . . . wild.” “What happened?” He smiled. “I met a redheaded Irish warrior.” “And fell in love?” she teased. “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t have to.

Grey was an enchantress who looked like sex and smelled like a field of wildflowers, the human embodiment of late-summer evenings in the South of France. She accentuated her natural beauty wherever possible. She wore high heels and delicate lace bras and soft smoky eye makeup. She always knew the right amount of skin to show to achieve that cool-sexy look.

She sauntered in the August rain With an endless rhythm of pain, With a desire to run To reach his arms that warmed her, Like sweet summer's sun!

Most skeletons in the closet don't have wings. - Conner Bailey, to Alex Bailey

And we die together." He smiled softly. "I would prefer that. I do not want to live in this worldーor any other world, for that matterーwithout you.

Do you know the greatest gift a parent can give to a child?” she asked, looking around the room. No one answered. “Independence. To allow them go out into the world and make their own decisions, travel their own paths.

He did not wish to be divine. If there had never been a God, the emperor thought, it might have been easier to work out what goodness was. This business of worship, of the abnegation of self in the face of the Almighty, was a distraction, a false trail. Wherever goodness lay, it did not lie in ritual, unthinking obeisance before a deity but rather, perhaps, in the slow, clumsy, error-strewn working out of an individual or collective path.

This was what was left of a human individual when you took away his home,his family, his friends, his city, his country,his world: a being without context, whose past had faded, whose future was bleak, an entity stripped of name, of meaning,of the whole of life except a temporarily beating heart.

Madam Yennefer, Forgive me. I'm riding to Hirundum because I want to see Geralt. I want to see him before I start school. Forgive my disobedience, but I must. I know you'll punish me, but I don't want to regret my indecision and hesitation. If I'm to have regrets, let them be for deeds and actions. I'm an enchantress. I seize life by the scruff of the neck. I'll return when I can. - Ciri

Imagine a pair of woman’s lips,” Mogor whispered, “puckering for a kiss. That is the city of Florence, narrow at the edges, swelling at the center, with the Arno flowing through between, parting the two lips, the upper and the lower. The city is an enchantress. When it kisses you, you are lost, whether you be commoner or king.

Niten drew in a deep shuddering breath and the air was suffused with the delicate odor of green tea. “And Tsagaglalal . . .” “Yes, Father?” Prometheus closed his eyes. “Tell Niten to find Aoife and ask her the question. Tell him . . . tell him she will say yes.

I should retire for the night," she said. "I know I make it look so effortless, but world domination is exhausting.

Bring a sword to school. Trust me-those girls will leave you alone.

Then find out what your sword is - find your own advantage - and wear it proudly.

But after being on the run I've learned a life spent creating enemies isn't worth leading. Having allies is the best advantage in the world.

There’s more to the truth than just the facts.

But a light now waxed within him at the knowledge that such wonders as he had been shown could exist.

It is the only happiness now possible to me, to know that all is well with you

Green's a good color.

Sometimes you can be very stupid!

I’m madly in love with myself. That’s why you can’t get enough of me.

My entire world has revolved around you ever since we were three years old, and you walked into class with those adorable braids of yours. I thought you were an actual princess, but as it turns out, you were an enchantress, because I’ve been under your spell ever since.

Seriously, Lam? Sinister enchantress cannot be your type.” “Sexy in a slip dress certainly is,” Lam said.

I was trapped by an ancient enchantress who—” “Another one?” Val asked. “How many magical women have you pissed off?

How the mighty have fallen,” he said, looking down on Aten. Ard-Greimne was short and incredibly sensitive about his height. He always wore shoes with lifts in them. When Aten didn’t respond, he tried again. “I said, how the mighty—” “It wasn’t funny or even clever the first time you said it,” Aten said. “Nor is it original.

And that was you?" Dee breathed, looking from Marethyu to Abraham. "I thought I was working for Isis and Osiris." Death's blue eyes crinkled. "You are, but sometimes you-and they-are working for me.

And now that they have us here, under their control, they've dropped whatever act they had on earth. We're seeing them as they really are.' He dipped his glove into the water and watched as the water turned golden. The air suddenly smelled of citrus. 'Look! It's orange juice!' 'Josh, focus!' 'You sound just like Mom or Isis or whatever her name is.

Tutti possono avere un "c'era una volta" o un "e vissero per sempre felici e contenti", ma è il viaggio tra l'inizio e la fine che rende la storia degna di essere raccontata. È il modo in cui i personaggi affrontano le sfide a far di loro degli eroi.

Suppressing a chuckle, Dajon leaned and peered intently into her eyes. "What are you doing?" she snapped. "Trying to see if there are two of you in there." He grinned and then furrowed his brow. "The transformation is so swift and unpredictable, I know not which of you to expect, vixen or enchantress.

All men, at one time or another, have fallen in love with the veiled Isis whom they call Truth. With most, this has been a passing passion: they have early seen its hopelessness and turned to more practical things. But others remain all their lives the devout lovers of reality: though the manner of their love, the vision which they make to themselves of the beloved object varies enormously. Some see Truth as Dante saw Beatrice: an adorable yet intangible figure, found in this world yet revealing the next. To others she seems rather an evil but an irresistible enchantress: enticing, demanding payment and betraying her lover at the last. Some have seen her in a test tube, and some in a poet’s dream: some before the altar, others in the slime. The extreme pragmatists have even sought her in the kitchen; declaring that she may best be recognized by her utility. Last stage of all, the philosophic sceptic has comforted an unsuccessful courtship by assuring himself that his mistress is not really there.

Guess I can’t go back to working for Quetzalcoatl, eh?” “When this is over, Billy,” Black Hawk said. “I think maybe we should go and visit the feathered serpent. Hand in our resignations. I’ll bring a box of matches.” “You going to toast some marshmallows with him?” “I’ll toast something,” Black Hawk promised.

Fine, I’ll pick ‘Sleeping Beauty,’” he decided. “Interesting selection,” Alex said, intrigued. “What do you suppose the moral of that story is?” “Don’t piss off your neighbors, I guess,” Conner said. Alex grunted disapprovingly. “Be serious, Conner! That is not the moral of ‘Sleeping Beauty,’” she reprimanded. “Sure it is,” Conner explained. “If the king and queen had just invited that crazy enchantress to their daughter’s party in the first place, none of that stuff ever would have happened.” “They couldn’t have stopped it from happening,” said Alex. “That enchantress was evil and probably would have cursed the baby princess anyway. ‘Sleeping Beauty’ is about trying to prevent the unpreventable. Her parents tried protecting her and had all the spinning wheels in the kingdom destroyed. She was so sheltered, she didn’t even know what the danger was, and she still pricked her finger on the first spindle she ever saw.” Conner thought about this possibility and shook his head. He liked his version much better. “I disagree,” Conner told her. “I’ve seen how upset you get when people don’t invite you places, and you usually look like you would curse a baby, too.” Alex gave Conner a dirty look Mrs. Peters would have been proud of. “While there’s no such thing as a wrong interpretation, I have to say that is definitely a misread,” Alex said. “I’m just saying to be careful who you ignore,” Conner clarified. “I always thought Sleeping Beauty’s parents had it coming.” “Oh?

Niten’s hand moved and the ragged end of the broken katana caught the crocodile in the center of the chest. Eyes wide, mouth gaping in surprise, it staggered back into the fog. “You talk too much,” Niten whispered.

Jack and Jill went up that hill, for a supposed pail of water," Mother Goose said. "Jack fell down, broke his crown, 'cause Jill pushed him-but no one caught her.

loving one’s children does not guarantee that one will never fail them,

If power was a a cry, then human lives were lived in the echo of the cries of others.

And when in doubt, Josh, follow your heart. Words can be false, images and sounds can be manipulated. But this... This is always true.

HERE LIES RUMPELSTILTSKIN THE EIGHTH BROTHER OF A PROUD DWARF FAMILY

Who hopes for an hour hopes for eternity. The world in an hour. What follows is unseen.

Forgiveness is what we all need to forget the past, even if we don’t deserve to.

no matter where you go or what you see, you’ll always want to be where you belong,

exasperation

She warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within.

And how characters face the challenges at hand is what makes them heroes.

My most scientific analysis, with all means of science and technology in mind, is that it’s magic,

The cruelest thing you can do to someone is force them to hurt alone

Yes, as Damon had sat in the dimly-lit booth with Kenzy, he recognized the psychic screamer, and it was his own little redbird, Bonnie the brown-eyed enchantress, caught in a moment of unbearable trauma and funneling all her terror and distress into a tight psychic message addressed to him.               Someone was hurting Bonnie, he’d realized, perhaps even killing her.  That meant someone was going to be exceedingly sorry exceedingly soon. Whoever it was would learn the meaning of pain in a hundred languages before they would be allowed to die. Damon had flashed his most gorgeous barracuda smile at nothing at all.

He smiled at the sudden image of Prometheus tossing cars from one side of the bridge to the other to build his barrier. He heard the tiny tinkle of glass and wondered if being tossed across the Golden Gate Bridge by an Elder was covered by insurance.

I know essentially you're some kind of enchantress. Maybe you're still serving your apprenticeship, but you're an enchantress all right. Probably I'd get used to you in time. Right now, it's only my demonic will that's keeping me playing it mighty cool.

After they stopped torturing him they locked him in the jail cell again and pretended they would forget him... Then, eventually, and unexpectedly, release. Into ignominy, oblivion, married life.

I know little of magic, Lady,' he said haltingly. 'I am but a woodcutter's son, and there is much that is not given to men to understand; but of this I am sure: there is more to things than we imagine. Beyond the stars are worlds without number, perhaps, and had I never sought to look beyond my own I should be the poorer for it.

It’s time you gave up your secrets, Geralt,’ Zoltan grimaced. ‘Dandelion hasn’t told us much we didn’t know. You can’t help it if you’re a walking legend. They re-enact stories of your adventures in puppet theatres. Like the story about you and an enchantress by the name of Guinevere.’ ‘Yennefer,’ Regis corrected in hushed tones. ‘I saw that one. It was the story of a hunt for a genie, if my memory serves me correctly.

However, many a pirate has tried to make his name on the High Seas by searching for famous, long-lost treasures. These include the fabled wreck of the good ship Petunia, the infamous magic stash of the Enchantress of the Northlands, and, of course, the toothbrush collection of Blackjaw Hawkins.

Fascinating, isn’t it? I believe the most extraordinary ideas come from children,” the queen said. “If only we all could be so perceptive, we would find the simplest solutions to the greatest problems are right under our noses.

ბავშვობა იყო იმაზე ფიქრი, თითქოს ვიღაცამ მეტი იცოდა შენ შესახებ, ვიდრე თვითონ შენ და ამიტომ ჯობდა, შენი ბედი მისთვის მიგენდო. ღმერთს სწორედ იმას საყვედურობდა, რომ მისდამი რწმენა ადამიანს საკუთარი თავის, როგორც პიროვნების ჩამოყალიბების საშუალებას ართმევს.

I’ve seen this happen before. Elder flesh works wonders on their systems, making them huge. And once they get a taste for Elder flesh, nothing else will satisfy them. It’s probably after me now.” Then, when the creature ignored him, he added, “Or not . . .

Having something worth telling and a passion to tell it are what make you a good writer,

Why are you all looking at me like I want to take my pet rock for a walk?" Conner asked.

Then find out what your sword is—find your own advantage—and wear it proudly.

The approving roar was so loud it actually knocked a man off the windowsill he sat on.

Is that the giant’s castle?” Alex asked. “I’m assuming,” Conner said. “Unless Mary Poppins moved into the neighborhood.

Humans were never meant to be vegetarian,” Hel bubbled, her face and fangs black with fluids.

I think I’m going to be sick!

I had to come up with a good excuse for why you had been gone for two weeks and thought 'traveling in another dimension' would probably raise a few eyebrows.

Because I would rather have nothing and a big heart than everything and no heart at all.

journey between

Always have a plan B and a friend with bail, and you’re guaranteed to never fail,

Jealousy is just a reminder of the frustrations you have with yourself. Who has time to only concentrate on that?

He must have laughed at me every single night, For I always missed the one who was never mine.

It is better to negotiate standing on two feet compared to when a foot is on your chest.

If you chase two lovers, you will not catch either one. —Alturan saying

They feared her [the dream beloved], knowing that, being impossible, she was irresistable, and that was why the king loved her best.

One of the weaknesses of our age is our apparent inability to distinguish our need from our greed.

Mom and boyfriend made Alex squirm. In her opinion, the two words didn’t belong in the same dictionary, let alone the same sentence.

Have you no wish for others to be saved? Then you are not saved yourself, be sure of that.

There’s no place like home,” Dorothy

We will find only what we look for, nothing more and nothing less.

You observe … that when it’s time to unleash a few insults, a man will always choose his mother tongue.

Then I’ll go keep our crocodile friends busy.” Niten’s teeth flashed in a smile. “I’ll try to leave a few for you.” He stepped away and faded into the night. “Be careful,” Prometheus called. A disembodied voice drifted out of the fog. “I was born for this. What’s the worst that could happen?” “You could be killed and eaten by the Spartoi.” “Doesn’t frighten me.

To a Familiar Genius Flying By Reveal yourself, anonymous enchanter! What heaven hastens you to me? Why draw me to that promised land again That I gave up so long ago? Was it not you who in my youth Enchanted me with such sweet dreams, Did you not whisper, long ago, Dear hopes of a guests ethereal? Was it not you through whom all lived In golden days, in happy lands Of fragrant meadows, waters bright, Where days were merry ?neath clear skies? Was it not you who breathed into my vernal breast Some melancholy mysteries Tormenting it with keen desire Exciting it to anxious joy? Was it not you who bore my soul aloft Upon the inspiration of your sacred verse, Who flamed before me like a holy vision, Initiating me into life's beauty? In hours lost, hours of secret grief, Did you not always murmur to my heart, With happy comfort soothe it And nurture it with quiet hope? Did not my soul forever heed you In all the purest moments of my life When'ere it glimpsed fate's sacred essence With only God to witness it? What news bring you, O, my enchantress? Or will you once more call in dreams Awaken futile thoughts of old, Whisper of joy and then fall silent? O spirit, bide with me awhile; O, faithful friend, haste not away; Stay, please become my earthly life, O, Guardian angel of my soul.

I do, too! Just imagine, I’d have a private practice now, like Yenna. I wouldn’t have to sweat with novices. I wouldn’t have to wipe the noses of the blubbering ones or lock horns with the cheeky ones. Ciri, listen to me and learn. An enchantress always takes action. Wrongly or rightly; that is revealed later. But you should act, be brave, seize life by the scruff of the neck. Believe me, little one, you should only regret inactivity, indecisiveness, hesitation. You shouldn’t regret actions or decisions, even if they occasionally end in sadness and regret.

the most extraordinary ideas come from children,” the queen said. “If only we all could be so perceptive, we would find the simplest solutions to the greatest problems are right under our noses.

The small group hugged one another quickly. Although nothing was said, they knew this could be the last time they ever saw one another again. Saint-Germain kissed Joan before they parted. “I love you,” he said softly. She nodded, slate-grey eyes shimmering behind tears. “When all this is over, I suggest we go on a second honeymoon,” he said. “I’d like that.” Joan smiled. “Hawaii is always nice at this time of year. And you do know I love it there.” Saint-Germain shook his head. “We’re not going anywhere that has a volcano.” “I love you,” she whispered, and turned away before they could see each other cry.

Credo che le idee migliori vengano dalle mente dei bambini. Se solo tutti noi potessimo essere così sensibili, scopriremmo che le soluzioni più semplici ai problemi più grandi sono proprio sotto il nostro naso.

To Hope Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes! How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn! For me wilt thou renew the wither’d rose, And clear my painful path of pointed thorn? Ah come, sweet nymph! in smiles and softness drest, Like the young hours that lead the tender year, Enchantress! come, and charm my cares to rest:— Alas! the flatterer flies, and will not hear! A prey to fear, anxiety, and pain, Must I a sad existence still deplore? Lo!—the flowers fade, but all the thorns remain, 'For me the vernal garland blooms no more.' Come then, 'pale Misery’s love!' be thou my cure, And I will bless thee, who, tho’ slow, art sure.

Mist swirled and the Spartoi closed in on the defenseless Niten. Lightning fast, one lashed out at him, catching him a blow on the thigh, and he fell to the bridge with a grunt of pain. He lay flat on his back, looked up at the lizard-like creatures and realized that he was going to die. The immortal felt just the vaguest pang of regret: He had always wanted to die in his beloved Japan and he had made Aoife promise that if he fell in some foreign country or shadowrealm, she would bring his body back to Reigando in the southwest of his country. But Aoife was gone. He would never be able to fulfill his promise to rescue her. And he would never rest in his home soil.

Go down a few steps and take your positions,” Prometheus instructed. “Let no one onto the roof. Will and Palamedes, you take the north side. Saint-Germain, can you take the west? Joan, the east is yours. I’ll guard the south.” “How come you get the dangerous side?” Saint-Germain asked. The big Elder smiled. “They’re all dangerous sides.

All men needed to hear their stories told. He was a man, but if he died without telling the story he would be something less than that, an albino cockroach, a louse. The dungeon did not udnerstand the idea of as tory. The dungeon was static, eternal, black and a story needed motion adn tiem and light. He felt his story slipping away from him, beocming inconsequential, ceasing to be. He has no story. There was no story. He was not a man. There was no man here. There was only the dungeon, and the slithering dark.

I learned that it ruled by creating classes and dividing people, by making some better than others.” “Hasn’t it always been that way?” Josh asked. “Every civilization is divided….” “Not every civilization,” Virginia snapped. “Only the so-called advanced ones.

If you have any choice at all,” the enchantress twisted her lips in a smile, “but don’t have much experience, you first appraise the bed.” Ciri’s emerald eyes turned the shape and size of saucers. “How’s that… The bed?” “Precisely that. Those who don’t have a bed at all, you eliminate on the spot. From those who remain, you eliminate the owners of any dirty or slovenly beds. And when only those who have clean and tidy beds remain, you choose the one you find most attractive. Unfortunately, the method is not a hundred per cent foolproof. You can make a terrible mistake.

She bit her tongue on the obvious, and said, “How do I go about being an enchantress?” Henry warmed to his subject. At thirty, he was an adviser. Maybe because he was a lawyer. “First,” he said dispassionately, “hold your tongue. Don’t argue with a man, especially when you know you can beat him. Smile a lot. Make him feel big. Tell him how wonderful he is, and wait on him.” She smiled brilliantly and said, “Hank, I agree with everything you’ve said. You are the most perspicacious individual I’ve met in years, you are six feet five, and may I light your cigarette? How’s that?” “Awful.” They were friends again. (Chapter 1)

I don't want to take the women into the city until I know how things stand.' ' I'll tell you precisely how they stand,' Nicolo bitterly replied. 'The absolute ruler of this city is a Medici. The Pope is a Medici. People round here say that probably God is a Medici and as for the Devil, he's definitely one, beyond any doubt.

Ezmia, on behalf of everyone in this room, I apologize for what the world put you through, and I forgive you for all the havoc you caused trying to heal,” Alex said. “I’m sorry your family was killed when you were a little girl. I’m sorry no one was there to comfort you when you had your heart broken over and over again. I’m sorry the fairies never showed you the kindness they showed everyone else. And I’m sorry you felt revenge was the only way you could piece yourself together again.

Now she had discovered that to be in love was even more wonderful. It was as though every weight had been removed from her soul. She still cared about the troubles of her people, but they no longer had the power to weigh her down with despair, to burden her with heartache. Love had given her a freedom such as she had never known.

The most famous political dictum of early Catalunya was uttered there—the unique oath of allegiance sworn by Catalans and Aragonese to the Spanish monarch in Madrid. “We, who are as good as you, swear to you, who are no better than us, to accept you as our king and sovereign lord, provided you observe all our liberties and laws—but if not, not.

Two against thirty two,” Niten said. “Good odds.” “I’ve never fought the Spartoi before,” Prometheus admitted. “I only know of them by their reputation—and it’s fearsome.” “We have an equal reputation,” Niten said. “Well, you do,” the Elder said. “I was never that much of a fighter. And after the fall of the island, I rarely took up weapons again.” “Fighting is a skill you never forget,” Niten said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “I fought my first duel when I was thirteen. I’ve been fighting ever since.” “But you are more than just a swordsman,” Prometheus said. “You are an artist, a sculptor and a writer.” “No man is ever just one thing,” Niten answered. His shoulder dropped and his short sword appeared in his left hand, water droplets sparkling from the blade. “But first and foremost, I was always a warrior.” He jabbed his sword into the fog and stirred it like liquid.

There were many portraits of Queen Red hung around the library, but an especially large painting was hung over the fireplace of Red reading a book in one of the armchairs. The twins had to do a double take, because just below the portrait was the real Queen Red Riding Hood seated in an armchair reading a book in the identical position as in the portrait.

He wanted, for example, to investigate why one should hold fast to a religion not because it was true but because it was the faith of one’s fathers. Was faith not faith but simple family habit? Maybe there was no true religion but only this eternal handing down. And error could be handed down as easily as virtue. Was faith no more than an error of our ancestors?

(From Danielle Raver's short story THE ENCHANTRESS) Thick chains attached to the wall hold a metal collar and belt, restraining most of the tiger's movements. Open, bloody slashes cover his face and back, but he shows no loss of strength as he pulls on the chains and tries to rip the flesh of the surrounding humans with his deadly claws. Out of his reach, I kneel down before him, and his lightning-blue eyes cross my space for a moment. “Get her out of there!” I hear from behind me. “Numnerai,” I speak urgently to the tiger. “They will kill you!” He growls and gnashes his teeth, but I sense he is responding to me. “Great white tiger, your duty is to protect the prince. But how can you do that if they sink the end of a spear into your heart?” He looks at me for a longer moment. The fighters respond to this by growing still. In their desperation, they are overlooking my foolishness for a chance to save their fellows' lives. I crouch on my feet and begin to nudge closer to him. The tiger growls a warning, but does not slash out at me. “Think of the prince, protector of the palace. Right now he prays for you to live.

And in Kandahar he was taught about survival, about fighting and killing and hunting, and he learned much else without being taught, such as looking out for himself and watching his tongue and not saying the wrong thing, the thing that might get him killed. About the dignity of the lost, about losing, and how it cleansed the soul to accept defeat, and about letting go, avoiding the trap of holding on too tightly to what you wanted, and about abandonment in general, and in particular fatherlesness, the lessness of fathers, the lessness of the fatherless, and the best defenses of those who are less against those who are more: inwardness, forethought, cunning, humility and good peripheral vision. The many lessons of lessness. The lessening from which growing could begin.

Niccolo Machiavelli folded his arms across his chest and looked at the alchemyst. “I always knew we would meet again,” he said in French. “Though I never imagined it would be in these circumstances,” he added with a smile. “I was certain I’d get you in Paris last Saturday.” He bowed, an old-fashioned courtly gesture as Perenelle joined her husband. “Mistress Perenelle, it seems we are forever destined to meet on islands.” “The last time we met you had poisoned my husband and attempted to kill me,” Perenelle reminded him, speaking in Italian. Over three thousand years previously, the Sorceress and the Italian had fought at the foot of Mount Etna in Sicily. Although Perenelle had defeated Machiavelli, the energies they unleashed caused the ancient volcano to erupt. Lava flowed for five weeks after the battle and destroyed ten villages. “Forgive me. I was younger then, and foolish. And you emerged the victor of the encounter. I carry the scars to this day.” “Let us try and not blow up this island,” she said with a smile. Then she stretched out her hand. “I saw you try to save me earlier. There is no longer any enmity between us.” Machiavelli took her fingers in his and bent over them. “Thank you. That pleases me.

That night Serena dressed to meet Zahi. She used a metallic green eye shadow on the top lids and the outer half of the bottom lids so that her eyes looked like a jungle cat's. Two coats of black mascara completed them, and then she smudged a light gold gloss on her lips. She took a red skirt from the closet. The material was snakelike, shimmering black, then red. She slipped it on and tied the black strings of a matching bib halter around her neck and waist. She painted red-and-black glittering flames on her legs and rubbed glossy shine on her arms and chest. Finally, she took the necklace she had bought at the garage sale and fixed it in her hairline like the headache bands worn by flappers back in the 1920's. The jewels hung on her forehead, making her look like an exotic maharani. She sat at her dressing table and painted her toenails and fingernails gold, then looked in the mirror. A thrill jolted through her as it always did. No matter how many times she saw her reflection after the transformation, her image always astonished her. She looked supernatural, a spectral creature, green eyes large, skin glowing, eyelashes longer, thicker. Everything about her was more forceful and elegant- an enchantress goddess. She couldn't pull away from her reflection. It was as if the warrior in her had claimed the night.

The small Japanese immortal sat cross-legged, his two swords resting flat on the ground before him. He folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes and breathing through his nose, forcing the chill night air deep into his chest. He held it for a count of five, then shaped his lips into an O and blew it out again, puncturing a tiny hole in the swirling fog before his face. Even though he would never admit it to anyone, Niten loved this moment. He had no affection for what was to come, but this brief time, when all preparations for battle were made and there was nothing left to do but wait, when the world felt still, as if it was holding its breath, was special. This moment, when he was facing death, was when he felt completely, fully alive. He’d still been called Miyamoto Musashi and had been a teenager when he’d first discovered the genuine beauty of the quiet moment before a fight. Every breath suddenly tasted like the finest food, every sound was distinct and divine, and even on the foulest battlefields, his eyes would be drawn to something simple and elegant: a flower, the shape of a branch, the curl of a cloud. A hundred years ago, Aoife had given him a book as a birthday present. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that she’d missed his birthday by a month, but he had treasured the book, the first edition of The Professor by Charlotte Bronte. It included a line he had never forgotten: In the midst of life we are in death. Years later, he’d heard Ghandi take the same words and shift them around to create something that resonated deeply within him: In the midst of death life persists.

Alex has been trying to communicate with me in our dreams. She covered our childhood home in letters asking me to kill her! She thinks the only way we can save the Otherworld is by taking her life!" "That's terrible!" Red said. "Just because someone is dangerous doesn't mean they have to be killed to be stopped. Think about the Evil Queen - oh wait, I suppose that mirror thing was worse than death. . . . Well, think about the Enchantress - oh yeah, never mind. . . . But General Marquis -oops, he really died. . . . Well, the Masked Man didn't - oh, that's right, he did. . . . Sorry, I thought there were plenty of examples. You know, maybe Alex had a point -" "We're not killing my sister," Conner said. "I refuse to believe there isn't a way to break the curse she's under! Alex's emotions are being affected right now and she's jumping to conclusions. We'll find a way to help her." "Yes, we will," Goldilocks said confidently. "I know exactly what's going through Alex's mind right now. It wasn't long ago that I was in her shoes. She's feeling scared, embarrassed, and guilty, and she thinks there's no coming back from the place she's at. But luckily for her, she's got us to set her straight." "Oh, it's Goldilocks!" Red declared with a snap of her fingers. "She's the example I was looking for! Goldie was a lonely, miserable, and ill-tempered thief when we first met. But thanks to my friendship, she's turned her life around and become a social, happy, and balanced woman." Goldilocks sighed. "What can I say? I owe it all to you, Red." "You're quite welcome," Red said. "What I did for Goldilocks is exactly what we need to do for Alex. If she insists on being killed, then we'll just have to love her to death." Conner and his friends nodded politely and gazed outside the cage, hoping Red wouldn't come up with any more nonsensical anecdotes.

Atata timp cat esti anesteziat si nu iti simti tragedia propriei vieti, poti supravietui. Cand iti revine limpezimea, cand iti este meticulos redata, te poate innebuni. memoria retrezita la viata te poate sminti, amintirea umilintei, a celor ce ti s-au intamplat fara stirea ta, a atator intruziuni, amintirea barbatilor. Nu un palat, ci un bordel al amintirilor, iar dincolo de aceste amintiri, constiinta faptului ca toti cei care te-au iubit sunt morti, ca nu exista nici o scapare. un asemenea gand te poate ridica in picioare, te poate face sa iti aduni fortele si sa o iei la goana. Daca fugi destul de tare poate vei scapa de trecut si de amintirea a tot ce ti s-a intamplat, si totodata de viitor, de intunericul inevitabil ce ti se intinde in fata.

Later, when his desires had been satisfied, he slept in an odorous whorehouse, snoring lustily next to an insomniac tart, and dreamed. He could dream in seven languages: Italian, Spanic, Arabic, Persian, Russian, English and Portughese. He had picked up languages the way most sailors picked up diseases; languages were his gonorrhea, his syphilis, his scurvy, his ague,his plague. As soon as he fell asleep half the world started babbling in his brain, telling wondrous travelers' tales. In this half-discovered world every day brought news of fresh enchantments. The visionary, revelatory dream-poetry of the quotidian had not yet been crushed by blinkered, prosy fact. Himself a teller of tales, he had been driven out of his door by stories of wonder, and by one in particular, a story which could make his fortune or else cost him his life.

Ten thousand years ago, her husband, Abraham the Mage, had presented her with the weapons and armor. “To keep you safe,” he said, his speech a slurred mumble. “Now and always. When you wear it, think of me.” “I’ll think of you even when I’m not wearing it,” she promised, and never a day went by when she did not think of the man who had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to make and save the world. The memory of him was vivid. Abraham stood tall and slender in a darkened room at the top of the crystal tower, the Tor Ri. He was wrapped in shadow, turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the Change that had almost completely claimed his flesh, transforming it to solid gold. She remembered turning him to the light so she could look at him for what she knew might be the very last time. Then she had held him, pressing his flesh and metal against her skin, and wept against his shoulder. And when she looked into his face, a single tear, a solid bead of gold, rolled down his cheek. Rising up on her toes, she had kissed the tear off his face, swallowing it. Tsagaglalal pressed her hands to her stomach. It nestled within her still.

You have such strength," she said softly, "but you have never hurt me. I find that remarkable." "I am very careful not to hurt you," he said, his voice thick. Rycca nodded. "I appreciate that." She touched his lean hips and beyond, lightly caressing the hard muscles of his buttocks. He gritted his teeth and swore to himself that he could bear this. She was very close to him now, the thin cloth of her chemise brushing against him.He found that barrier intolerable. Plucking at the fabric, he muttered, "Take it off." She looked a little surprised, then smiled. "The truth is,I feel safer with it on, a little bolder." "Little?" He wanted to say more, something about her being any bolder and he would burst, but he couldn't get the words out. Probably because he wasn't breathing very well. Rycca hesitated but only a moment. With the gracefulness so natural to her, she lifted the chemise over her head and discarded it. In the silvery moonlight, her skin glowed like polished alabaster, pale but for the rosy fullness of her nipples and the fiery curls between her thights. He reached for her urgently, but once again she eluded his grasp. "Please..." she said again and took his thick wrists in her hands. Drawing them away from her body, she reaised her head and met his eyes. "You can't realize how much I want to..." "Thor's thunder,lady,do whatever you will before I perish!" Her eyes widened yet more and a startled laugh broke from her. Then her expression was suddenly wistful. "Do not think badly of me." Badly? How in all creation could he manage that? She was a dream brought to life, the most exquisitely seductive enchantress he had ever imagined. And she was his by the law of man and God. In all the wide world, how could a man ask for more?

You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” Ezmia said. “Perhaps this will humble you.” Ezmia placed the glass jar she had been carrying on a small table close to Charlotte’s cage. Charlotte was horrifed to see a miniature ghostly version of the Fairy Godmother trapped inside. “That’s my… my… grandmother!” Charlotte said, almost forgetting she was still pretending to be her own daughter. “What have you done to her?” A smile appeared on Ezmia’s face, matching the satisfaction in her eyes. “I captured her soul,” she said. The thought almost made Charlotte sick. She’d had no idea such a thing was possible, even in the fairy-tale world. “What do you want with her soul?” Charlotte asked. “It’s a bit of a hobby of mine, actually,” Ezmia said and walked to her fireplace. Displayed proudly on the mantel were five other turquoise jars, each containing a ghostly substance. “You’re a soul collector?” Charlotte asked. “Is it to make up for being soulless?” “What a clever play on words,” Ezmia said mockingly. “You know that phrase forgive and forget? Well, I always disagreed with it—I found it impossible, actually. People would do me wrong and then forget about me, as if their actions didn’t matter—because I didn’t matter. How was I supposed to forgive people like that?” “So you imprisoned their souls instead of forgiving?” Charlotte said. “Precisely,” Ezmia said. “I found taking away their life force to be much more appealing than simply forgiving. To forgive would be to allow them to continue living their lives, free of consequence. But by taking their souls and preventing them from all future happiness, I could heal and find peace.” Charlotte couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Do you honestly expect anyone to sympathize with that?” Charlotte asked her. Ezmia stared into the fire at the burning skulls, almost in a trance. “I don’t want the world to understand; I want it to grovel,” she said. The confession made Charlotte’s heart heavier. She wondered if she would ever escape the clutches of a person who thought like this. But thinking about her children, Bob, and the life she had been stolen from gave Charlotte the strength to survive the Enchantress’s imprisonment. “I find it hard to believe that the Fairy Godmother, who is known for her generosity, would harm you in any way,” Charlotte said. “Sometimes help can be just as destructive as harm,” Ezmia said. “But I imagine someone who helps for a