Welsh Dragon Quotes

You may be right. I think it was round about Christmas when I got my Welsh dragon tattoo.” At that, Tessa had to try very hard not to blush. “How did that happen?” Will made an airy gesture with his hand. “I was drunk…” “Nonsense. You were never really drunk.” “On the contrary—in order to learn how to pretend to be inebriated, once must become inebriated at least once, as a reference point. Six-Fingered Nigel had been at the mulled cider—“ “You can’t mean there’s truly a Six-Fingered Nigel?

Poor Wales. So far from Heaven, so close to England.

Ah'm thinking about shoutin 'stop' but ah could never turn away at this point. If smack is as addictive as they say, then ah'm already aw the junky ah'm ever gaunny be.

Oh, John is clever enough. But what do brains avail a man if he does lack for backbone?

The Welsh were a god-cursed, stiff-necked, and utterly vexatious people, John said bitterly, but they did have an inexplicable ability to rise phoenixlike from the ashes of defeat, to soar upwards on wings too scorched for flight.

If disliking Richard be grounds for accusing a man of conspiracy, I daresay you could implicate half of Christendom in this so-called plot. Richard endears himself easiest to those who've yet to meet him.

Whilst stupidity may indeed be a sin, it is also possible to be too clever. I sometimes fear, John, that you are too clever by half.

Indeed. But I was not thinking of his immortal soul, Matilda. I was thinking that history is chronicled by monks.

Eleanor would have been indifferent to the immorality of her adultery, but would never have forgiven the stupidity of it.

There are secret sins and found-out sins, and it is foolish to worry about the first until it becomes the second.

I’ve never been so hungry that I was willing to lick honey off thorns.

War is the least productive of men’s pastimes, and the most indulgent.

Just because something has always been done a certain way does not make it right.

Memory is merciful, Joanna, more so than man. It fades past pain, yet holds bright the colors in recalled joy.

I want more of this. I want to go on adventures with you for the rest of my days—

This was happiness, she realized. To have purpose. To be needed. To be loved and cared for and respected. To have her adventure, wherever it might lead her next.

Poor Wales, so far from Heaven, so close to England!

The day that he accused a reigning King of murder was the day he signed his own death warrant, and he knew it.

Welsh Incident 'But that was nothing to what things came out From the sea-caves of Criccieth yonder.' What were they? Mermaids? dragons? ghosts?' Nothing at all of any things like that.' What were they, then?' 'All sorts of queer things, Things never seen or heard or written about, Very strange, un-Welsh, utterly peculiar Things. Oh, solid enough they seemed to touch, Had anyone dared it. Marvellous creation, All various shapes and sizes, and no sizes, All new, each perfectly unlike his neighbour, Though all came moving slowly out together.' Describe just one of them.' 'I am unable.' What were their colours?' 'Mostly nameless colours, Colours you'd like to see; but one was puce Or perhaps more like crimson, but not purplish. Some had no colour.' 'Tell me, had they legs?' Not a leg or foot among them that I saw.' But did these things come out in any order?' What o'clock was it? What was the day of the week? Who else was present? How was the weather?' I was coming to that. It was half-past three On Easter Tuesday last. The sun was shining. The Harlech Silver Band played Marchog Jesu On thrity-seven shimmering instruments Collecting for Caernarvon's (Fever) Hospital Fund. The populations of Pwllheli, Criccieth, Portmadoc, Borth, Tremadoc, Penrhyndeudraeth, Were all assembled. Criccieth's mayor addressed them First in good Welsh and then in fluent English, Twisting his fingers in his chain of office, Welcoming the things. They came out on the sand, Not keeping time to the band, moving seaward Silently at a snail's pace. But at last The most odd, indescribable thing of all Which hardly one man there could see for wonder Did something recognizably a something.' Well, what?' 'It made a noise.' 'A frightening noise?' No, no.' 'A musical noise? A noise of scuffling?' No, but a very loud, respectable noise --- Like groaning to oneself on Sunday morning In Chapel, close before the second psalm.' What did the mayor do?' 'I was coming to that.

Shall I tell you how to mend a broken trust? Pluck the feathers from a goose, scatter them to the four winds. Then gather them all up, each and every one, and put them back on the goose. It is as easy as that.

Is it not a wondrous thing, to see your child born?” He nodded. “Indeed. But I’ll tell you what is no less wondrous to me right now. That after a woman endures all this, why she is then willing to let any man ever again get within ten feet of her bed!

Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden- anyway, you can't tame dragons. It's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania." "But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry. "Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget.

If that’s how you’d rather remember it. But I did not mean that as a reproach. I do not, in truth, think less of you for having the common sense to abandon a ship once waves began to break over the bow. Nor, after sixteen years shut away from the sun, am I likely to find tears to spare for Henry Plantagenet.

Perhaps adventures could be for ladies of a certain age, ladies who might have reached a point in their lives when they had quietly given up on the world beyond their kitchen garden as being a place for them to explore. Perhaps adventures were ready and available to anyone and everyone who was willing to take one on.

We cannot know what lies ahead of us. Our futures are not for us to divine. But what I do know, or what I believe, is that there is indeed a path laid out before us, one we cannot see. And yet we must walk it, placing one foot in front of the other, with our eyes blind and our hearts trusting that we will not lose our way.

Long ago, when the animals still ruled the earth, and talked, and rode horses instead of walked, a small Welsh dragon called Melvyn once lived all alone in a damp cave by the cold seashore.

...nothing in life turns out as we thought it would, nothing...

Fretting about time’s passing will not slow it down one whit.

I initially discovered hiraeth on social media, and it made me suck in my breath as something stirred deep within me. It's Welsh, and there's no direct translation into English, but it's defined as a kind of homesickness tinged with grief or sadness over a person or place that is lost to you. It carries with it a sense of longing, nostalgia and wistfulness,

I would look dreadful in black.

Otherwise, I’d like nothing better than…conversing with you. You’re such a deep, penetrating conversationalist, after all,

[I]f I truly thought we had a chance to succeed…But the risk is too great. I’ve never been so hungry that I was willing to lick honey off thorns.

Aurelius Ambrosius was succeeded in ca AD 501 by his brother, Uther Pendragon. Named Uther at birth, he was king of the Silures. He assumed the surname pen-Dragon (son of the dragon) after the appearance of a dragon-like comet in the sky. Like his brother Aurelius, he had been smuggled abroad on the murder of Constans. Once king, however, he consorted adulterously with Ygerna (Eigr) the wife of Gorlois, duke of Cornwall. Gorlois was killed by Uther Pendragon's soldiers at Dimilioc (Tinblot in the Welsh chronicle) as Uther Pendragon was seducing Ygerna. But of their union was born the most famous of the British kings, Arthur, who reigned over the Britons from ca AD 521-542.

Dragons are perfectly capable of hunting and providing for themselves without human interference, though they are notorious for taking advantage of an outsider’s offer of sustenance whenever the opportunity presents itself. — from Chapter Eleven of Miss Percy’s Travel Guide (to Welsh Moors and Feral Dragons)

She’d been torn, naked and defenseless, from a cocoon of privilege and power, with no skills for survival in this harsh new world.

The Welsh do make the worst enemies. They do not play by your rules, they win when they’re not supposed to, and they do not know when they’re beaten.

It was a charming falsehood she often told herself, that the act of reading was something akin to a cup of warm milk in literary form, that only a few pages read would see her eyes droop and her thoughts grow weary before she would swiftly succumb to blissful slumber…and then she would sit awake half the night, each page imprinting itself in the place of another lost minute of dreams…a far more accurate description would be to say that the smudged ink from each word accumulated beneath her eyes into a telltale shadow of forfeited sleep and few regrets.

. "Why do you not want to marry John the Scot?” “I do not like him, Mama.” Exasperation and bafflement—familiar emotions to Joanna where her daughter was concerned. “But you do not know him well enough to make a judgment like that,” she pointed out, striving for patience. Elen tossed her head. “His eyes are too close together. And he has a weak chin.” “Elen, for the love of God! What does that have to do with marriage?” Elen knew her mother was right; marriages were based upon pragmatic considerations of property and political advantage.

Much like a young child, a dragon you can neither hear nor see is one that is at its most dangerous.

In a contest of wills between John and his mother, he did not think John would prevail, indeed he hoped he would not. But he did not care to be a witness to their confrontation; he suspected Eleanor's methods would be neither maternal nor merciful.

Richard forced him from his sickbed, broke his power, his pride. But you, John, you broke his heart. I truly wonder which be the greater sin.