Ivy Beyond The Wall Quotes

See that house with the Ivy on it? From that rooftop, what if you leapt onto the next rooftop, dashed over that blue & green wall, climbed and jumped up the pipe, ran across the roof and jumped to the next? You can, in animation. If you could walk along the cable, you could see the other side. When you look from above, so many things reveal themselves to you. Maybe race along the concrete wall. Suddenly, there in your humdrum town there is a magical movie. Isn’t it fun to see things that way? Feels like you could go somewhere far beyond… …maybe you can…

They stood in a vast courtyard several times the size of a football field, surrounded by four enormous walls made of gray stone and covered in spots with thick ivy. The walls had to be hundreds of feet high and formed a perfect square around them, each side split in the exact middle by an opening as tall as the walls themselves that, from what Thomas could see, led to passages and long corridors beyond.

Gregory didn't attempt to hide his amazement. "You used to slip inside minds, but this is something different." He stood up and circled Tristan. "When I tried to break in, I felt just one mind, one soul--and it wasn't Luke McKenna's. He would've been an easy mark for me. Tell me how you did it." Tristan remained silent. "The voices taught you," Gregory guessed, his voice husky with desire. "The voices taught you something they haven't taught me! Tell me how"--a smile spread slowly over his face--"and I'll spare Ivy." "You've always been a liar, Gregory." "Not now. Now we're on the same side, Tristan. The dead side." His laughter ended in an electric hiss. Beyond the garage, the driveway grew brighter; the floodlights had been switched on again. "Chase?" the woman called. "Is everything okay?" He grimaced, then punched a button on the wall, lowering the garage door. Tristan followed Gregory out the side entrance but remained in the shadows. "Get out of our lives, Gregory," he said. "Go back to where you belong." Gregory laughed at him. "Don't you know? I bring hell with me wherever I go." Then he sauntered across the lawn. "Coming, Mother.

My great-grandmother’s estate is about two miles out of town,” Helen said. “Go down Main Street and turn right at the fork.” Ten minutes later she pointed out Twin Elms, From the road one could see little of the house. A high stone wall ran along the front of the estate and beyond it were many tall trees. Nancy turned into the driveway which twisted and wound among elms, oaks, and maples. Presently the old Colonial home came into view. Helen said it had been built in 1785 and had been given its name because of the two elm trees which stood at opposite ends of the long building. They had grown to be giants and their foliage was beautiful. The mansion was of red brick and nearly all the walls were covered with ivy. There was a ten-foot porch with tall white pillars at the huge front door. “It’s charming!” Nancy commented as she pulled up to the porch. “Wait until you see the grounds,” said Helen. “There are several old, old buildings. An ice-house, a smokehouse, a kitchen, and servants’ cottages.

but he always looked at them with the same reverence, mingled with a vague wonder as to what it was that people admired in ruins, seeing that they generally made such short work of inspecting them, and seemed so pleased to get away and take refreshment. Ruins and copious refreshment ware associated in Mr. Gilbert’s mind; and, indeed, there does seem to be a natural union between ivied walls and lobster-salad, crumbling turrets and cold chicken; just as the domes of Greenwich Hospital, the hilly park beyond, and the rippling water in the foreground, must be for ever and ever associated with floundered souchy and devilled whitebait.

There are the yellow beads of the stonecrops and the twisted flags of dried irises knuckled into the hollows of moss and rubbly limestone on the waves of the low wall the ivy has climbed along them where the weasel ran the light has kindled to gold the late leaves of the cherry tree over the lane by the house chimney there is the roof and the window looking out over the garden summer and winter there is the field below the house there is the broad valley far below them all with the curves of the river a strand of sky threaded through it and the notes of bells rising out of it faint as smoke and there beyond the valley above the rim of the wall the line of mountains I recognize like a line of writing that has come back when I had thought it was forgotten

For the first twenty-three years of Sadie West’s life,

Mama always said eavesdropping was the surest way to stir up trouble and make enemies out of perfectly good neighbors.

During those long, cold nights, she had never imagined that something so beautiful could be born out of such neglect.

Why can’t it be normal to be varied and different? In a world full of colors and shapes and backgrounds, who decided we were all supposed to be the same?

Plans are a good thing if they’re held lightly. Some folks hold on too tight, and they can’t let go when life changes.

buoyed her belief that Otis Taylor was not a beast but a man with heart.

People are much like plants. There is so much more to them that cannot be seen. Ambitions and dreams. Fears and hopes. Buried beneath the soil, overlooked, but vital . . .

Someday I hope he knows his losses matter, but they are not what matters most.

Like a rain barrel during a storm, this house was overflowing with questions.

It was then Otis knew for certain that his father’s gift of music was only given to ease his own conscience and rid himself of his disappointing son.

If nothing else, he teaches us to be thoughtful when choosing a life companion. He may have led an entirely different life if he’d been a bit more cautious.

but when Mildred said you needed someone to listen to you, I wanted to come.

She had lived many beautiful days, and with the memory fresh in her heart, she could believe there were more to come.

It should not have hurt, having a stranger judge her actions, but it did.

he rebuked himself,

The power behind his words scared even him. But he stood by them.

Somehow, I hope to convince a man who wishes to live in a cave to come out into the sunshine so he might discover whatever is around the corner. . . .

Even a timid man finds his voice when he’s in love. A man in love will put his other plans aside if love requires it.

These ivy walls might seem a bit intimidating, but it’s not such a bad place.

thank the Lord for your goodness.

he knew who she was inside better than who she was on the outside, thanks to her letters.

I wouldn’t want to be in company with a vagrant, but a man who has read Charlotte Brontë cannot be all bad.

I am quite certain you are exactly the miracle we need.

Even leading a sheltered life, she knew that not all homes were welcoming and happy like hers, or as complete.

Like a prayer, he communed with God, wrestling with him as he tried to make sense of his place and his purpose.

He had an odd way of showing me his concern. An occasional letter tucked between tonics. And all his cures . . . you know what they did to me.

she was simply a name. Another piece of his family’s past that he would never understand.

I felt especially close to God in those moments. Perhaps that morning he was telling you that he remembered you.

Surely the God who worked in mysterious ways could use his family’s fortune to help. After all, he’d come home at this exact moment when Sadie found herself in need. Miracle or not, he could try.

But not my parents. They love being together. My pa still looks at my mama like she is the sun and the moon.

I believe in miracles, and we all desperately hope God decides to grant us one.

What must it have been like to be poor by way of possessions but rich in a way most men yearned for?

The agony did not change his mind; it only confirmed that his choice, hard as it was, had come from a place of love.

When I hear him, I know that Otis Taylor is not all hurt and anger. He has a soul and a heart. No man can play like that who does not.

It’s a shame, the way we shun when we should rally around those who struggle.

At first she’d been hurt, but with time she’d come to see his departure as an act of good faith.

Her presence was a gentle nudge that slowly led him back to life, back to smiling, and back to hope.

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