Yaga Quotes

The world is always ruled by a maniac. - Baba Yaga

There, weeping, a tsarevna lies locked in a cell. And Master Grey Wolf serves her very well. There, in her mortar, sweeping beneath the skies, the demon Baba Yaga flies. There Tsar Koschei, he wastes away, poring over his pale gold.

My daughters are diamonds, as Yaga so often said. Nothing is more beautiful. Nothing shines brighter. And most importantly, nothing will break them.

Baba Yaga: "... What are his powers" Mirror on the wall: "He reads

When you tell the children tales of the Baba Yaga on a cold winter’s night, you might remember to mention that whether or not the witch is wicked often depends on who is telling the story.

We can’t leave just like that.” Cat was appalled. “Where can we find you if we need you again?” [Baba Yaga] “You can’t. Listen, Little Drear, I hate saying good-byes. I have a good strategy for avoiding them.” “What’s that?” asked Anton. “I eat my guests.

Baba Yaga: I've never heard of such a creature. What are his powers? Magic Mirror: He reads. He reads everything.

So, sometimes it’s necessary to level the board. Sometimes when the bad guy keeps winning, the questions of right and wrong get a little cloudy. When that situation is created then it becomes necessary to do the right thing even if it’s technically the wrong thing or there’s no justice. And there are people that do that. The Baba Yaga’s of the world.

The invisibility in which we live next to one another is appalling, Kukla thought.

Are you afraid?” “I’m not afraid,” Sasha said, and as with all her daughters, Yaga believed her.

Broken things can be fixed and healed. Nothing is too difficult or too dirty to clean.

Naughty children have to be protected. Even if it's just from themselves.

Her mind still worked, her feet still moved, she could walk, though only with the help of a walker, but walk she did, and she was a human being who knew for certainty that beans are best in salad and that old age is a terrible calamity.

Holy crap!” he said. “That’s a big dog.” “Yes,” said Baba. “But a small dragon.

In Russian fairy tales, the narrative flows a little differently. In those stories, you won’t find a tale for Cinderella, one for Snow White, one for Rapunzel. Instead, a peculiar cast of characters recurs over and over, in nearly every story, performing different acts and suffering different sorrows, but remaining the same. Ivan the Fool. Yelena the Bright. Baba Yaga. Vasilisa the Brave. Koschei the Deathless.

Who says wicked can’t be good ?

Like the piano player, I have memory in my fingertips. I watch words spill out creating worlds, inventing colors, bridging generations.

I kept your hands clean for twelve years, Baba Yaga,” said Marya Antonova. “But now, these filthy hands are taking what’s theirs.

Curiosity,” said Kasyan, didactically, “is a dreadful trait in girls.” He grinned with a sort of acid cheer. “Just ask Baba Yaga: the more one knows, the sooner one grows old.

Some things were only possible in fairy tales. And not the kind of fairy tales that Baba Yagas featured in; those tended not to have happy endings.

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

Not very smart," Chudo-Yudo growled. "Stalking a Baba Yaga." He showed a set of sharp white teeth. "Maybe he has a death wish. I could help with that You want me to eat him?

Does this dress make me fat?” “Of course it does. Don’t you own a mirror?

Perhaps you would be better off finding some way to embrace your new nature, instead of fighting it.

Pain is mostly mind over matter: if you don't mind, it doesn't matter.

You say wicked like it's a bad thing.

You think you know this story. You do not.

[Ruth]'d had bad nightmares in the fall, something about a woman hiding in her closet at night to steal her away, and Jordan had fussed very unnecessarily. Nina had taken her razor, gone into the closet and banged around uttering some Baba Yaga screeches, nicked the pad of her finger so there would be blood on the razor, then walked out holding it up for Ruth's inspection, announcing, "Is dead now." Nightmares had been better ever since.

The phone rang. “Hauptmans’ mortuary,” I answered. “You stab ’em, we slab “em.” Baba Yaga was wearing off on me. “Hard-boiled is the best way to eat eggs,” said Baba Yaga. “But I’ve quit eating eggs—it upset my household. What did the boy-who-isn’t-a-boy have to say?” I decided I didn’t want to know what inspired the information about eggs.” “She hung up. I’d just replaced the handset when it rang again. “Yes?” I said. “I’m waiting for more cleverness,” Baba Yaga said. “Hauptman House of Horrors, don’t mind the screaming—we don’t. Something of the sort.” “Okay,” I said. “Hauptman House of Horrors—” “Sssss,” she said.

He spoke!" Ivan said, eyes wide. "The dog talked! Oh my god." "An ancient witch you can believe in, but not a talking dragon that looks like a dog?" Chudo-Yudo said, sounding slightly piqued. "Hmph. Young people today have such limited imaginations.

Life has a way of changing the path you are on when you least expect it.

Cookies, a dragon dog, and a sword: what every well-equipped little girl takes on a journey.

We are not responsible for our arrival in the world, but perhaps we can be for our departure.

money has no nationality, only people do, and generally speaking those are people who have nothing else.

I met Baba Yaga at the end of childhood – past pigtails and fairytales, but not quite ready to give up on make-believe.

You're the Baba Yaga?" He gazed at her in disbelief. "But the Baba Yaga is an ugly old crone, and you're, you're... not!

Cijeli naš život je potraga za ljubavlju. Naša potraga osujećena je mnogim zamkama koje nas čekaju na putu. Jedna od najopasnijih zamki je vrijeme. Dovoljno je da zakasnimo na sekundu i već smo propustili našu sreću.

But it’s our duty as Yaga, living in this Yaga house, to talk to them and give them one last wonderful evening reliving their memories and celebrating their lives, before they pass through The Gate and return to the stars.

Sizinleyken yakınımda bir vantilatör varmış gibi hissediyorum." dedi.

...lova nema nacionalnosti, samo je ljudi imaju, i to ljudi koji obično nemaju ništa drugo.

It was hard to say which one was real – the face she showed the world during the day or the one she hid at night. Maybe neither.

He came outta nowhere, and he was like Jackie Chan or something. I mean, I never saw anybody fight like that.

It might be a wild-goose chase.” “I am quite fond of geese, myself,” Mikhail said.

Maybe it is time to get over your daddy issues and just deal with it.

Stu looked over his shoulder at the trailer. "She seems like a nice old lady, but jeez, that's a big dog." "Yes," said Liam. "But a small dragon.

Hounds and hearthstones, girl, haven't you ever heard a story about Koschei? He's only got the one. Act one, Scene one: pretty girl. Act one, Scene two: pretty girl gone!

Not that anyone short of God Almighty could have gotten Marcus Senior to rest and take it easy. It was like trying to make a shark sit up and beg for treats.

Something tells me this isn't going to end well for everyone involved. Someone may get turned into a frog yet." And that was the good news.

Not my job to judge, boy." Baba Yaga filled and lit the pipe again. "But I do observe that its difficult to escape familiar patterns. When you live your life with cruel words, you look for people to give them to you. When you escape and evil stepmother, you take an uncaring bride. When your father throws you out, you love someone who won't love you back. And to keep yourself in cruelty, you're willing to risk head and hands on the mayors side board. Keep the pattern going. Hm.

A Wild Woman Is Not A Girlfriend. She Is A Relationship With Nature. But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it? Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard? Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me? Can you love me then too? Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight? Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last kill? When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then? What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted? Will you trust that Spring will return? Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life? Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me? Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire? Will you fear my shifting shape? Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does? Do you fear they will capture your soul? Are you afraid to step into me? The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you. So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here. Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart. You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky. If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you. If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire. I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold. I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching. So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are. There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great. A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm. She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster. She will see to it that you shall rise again. She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.

Old women are supposed to be doting and addled, absent-minded grandmothers who spoil their sons and keep soup bubbling on the stove-top, but the Crone is none of those things. She’s the canny one, the knowing one, the too-wise witch who knows the words to every curse and the ingredients for every poison. She is Baba Yaga and Black Anna; she is the wicked fairy who hands out curses rather than christening-gifts.

Liam's lips tightened. "She's only a little girl. She doesn't know anything about swords. What if she cuts herself? It's sharp, right?" "Of course it is sharp, Liam. What would be the point ot having a sword that wasn't?

You're as handsome as Apollo, you don't pick your nose, you're not stingy and you don't talk too much. There's nothing at all the matter with you!' announced Pupa in the tone of a doctor who was a hundred per cent sure of her diagnosis.

Baba Yaga whirled on her, the tails of her fur coat whipping around. “Don’t you call me comrade, little girl. We aren’t equals and we aren’t friends. Chairman Yaga. That comrade nonsense is just a hook by which the low pull down the high. And then what do you get? Everyone rolling around in the same shit, like pigs.

The taxi driver dropped them off back at the Wabasha Street Caves and drove off clutching a huge tip and muttering under his breath about dog drool on his upholstery. In return, Chudo-Yudo muttered something about taxi drivers tasting good with ketchup.

Raven mumbled something. “Eh? What was that? Speak up! Don’t mumble like a caterpillar.” “I said, I don’t want to scare them.” Baba Yaga picked up a blue spray bottle and squirted Raven in the face with water, making Raven blink. “This is how I train my cats not to jump up on my spell table. They learn after a while. Maybe you will, too.

Have you ever met a dragon that couldn't talk?

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?

You wouldn't believe the things that go missing in these labs. Remind me to tell you the story about the radioactive spider sometime.

Not really riding weather, is it, miss? Unless you're a duck." He chuckled at his own joke. "Quack," Jenna said...

Guilt can be a very destructive emotion.

Hmm," she said. "'Curiouser and curiouser,' to quote Alice.

Stories retold are stories remade.

Now that she knew credit cards were valuable, Baba Yaga began to collect as many of them as she could.

She was tasked with guarding the doorway to the Otherworld, keeping the balance of nature (as much as anyone could in these modern times), and occasionally, helping a worthy seeker.

What else is there to know about Marya Antonova, in the end? Only that now, she is called Baba Yaga, and of all her many trinkets, her daughter remains the greatest treasure of them all.

My brother, are you aware that you are presently taking the form of a rather large and distinctly emerald-hued bear? Not that it isn't an improvement on your usual excessive good lucks, but...

the woman called Baba Yaga possessed no knowledge of what it was to be soft, and so she drew from her namesake, from her mother, and conjured for herself the tireless reminder that fear had no place on an Antonova witch’s lips.

Dear Baba Yaga, I feel like I'm forever missing something inside myself. With people, without people, wonderful job, jobless. I always feel like there's a gaping hole. What is missing? BABA YAGA: By rooting in the hole you make the hole wider; you scrape , its walls you open fresh soil--the earth of it smells blacker & blacker, you see the hole & the hole only, you live within it always; if you find yrself eating fruits in the good forest you remember the hole & go to look if it is still there dropping yr fruit-meat all the whiles. & if you think think think only of the hole it will become the great work & mystery of yr life, & you will die in the hole as you lived in it.

Liam jumped. "Jeez --you can talk!" Chudo-Yudo rolled his eyes. "Right. So a talking dragon is okay, but a talking dog freaks you out? Dude, you're going to have to adjust to this crap a lot faster than that if you're going to be any help.

My name is Koshka, and this Human person is Jazz. She is the protégé of the Baba Yaga Bella, and I am Bella’s Chudo-Yudo.” “Oh,” said the Dwarf, and doffed his hat, briefly revealing a shiny bald spot before putting it back on again. “Why didn’t you say so?” He scowled. “I thought you were door-to-door salesmen.” “Do you get a lot of that in the Otherworld?” Jazz asked, genuinely interested in the answer. Somehow she hadn’t imagined that would be a problem here. Smythe shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ve heard all about them, and I expect they’ll turn up any day.

Members of the court still talked in whispers of the lady-in-waiting who had accidentally worn mismatched stockings to an afternoon tea. They said she made a lovely rosebush, always festooned with stunning flowers in two slightly different colors of peach. Beka didn't aspire to be a rosebush.

I swore I wasn't going to rescue any more damsels in distress," Day muttered. To his surprise, Barbara gave him a lopsided grin, banging on the side of the trailer to make it produce a door. "What makes you think she isn't rescuing you?" she asked, and stomped inside without a backward look.

You're welcome to join us again sometime," Bella said.... "Right. Well, I don't know." Sam looked at the ground. scuffing one boot in the dirt. "I'm usually not very good company." "I'm hanging out with a teenager and a temperamental cat." Bella said with a small smile. "The bar is set very low around here.

Chewie gave a bone-scented sigh and rubbed his jowl affectionately against her leg. "I can't tell you what to do, Beka. I can just tell you that I would be very sorry if you weren't my Baba. I've kind of gotten used to having you around." Beka blinked back unexpected emotion. "Thanks, Chewie. That's really sweet." He was quiet for a moment, and then said. "You know what's really sweet? S'mores, that's what." He gazed up at her with an innocent expression. "Just sayin'.

Why do you two have swords?" "Yes," Day asked. "Why do we?" He headed toward the door without waiting for the answer. "There is a gigantic beast rising from the lake and coming toward the hut," Gregori said, as if he'd just told them the neighbors were coming for breakfast. "We should probably stop it before it gets here.

Archetypally, the Life/Death/Life nature is a basic component of the instinctive nature. This is personified through world myth and folklore as Dama del Muerte, Lady Death; Coatlicue; Hel; Berchta; Ku’an Yin; Baba Yaga; Lady in White; Compassionate Nightshade; and as a group of women called by the Greeks Graeae, the Gray Ladies. From the Banshee, in her carriage made of night-cloud, to La Llorona, the weeping woman at the river, from the dark angel who brushes humans with a wing tip, collapsing them into an ecstasy, to swampfire that appears when death is imminent, stories are filled with these remnants of the old creation Goddess personifications.2

Uh, hi," she said, lifting a hand in greeting. "Hi yourself," Liam said, feeling remarkably calm, under the circumstances. "Did you just walk out of that closet?" He looked her over, taking in her unusual attire, jewels, sword, and all. She looked exotic, stunningly beautiful, and in some intangible way, more herself than he'd ever seen her. "Nice outfit. Special occasion?" He was fairly certain she hadn't just come from a costume ball. Unless it was one that involved some kind of giant pumpkin and a fairy godmother.

happiness is a thing that passes through you, not a thing you meet & hold in yr deathly grip for ever

You might even say their bark is as bad as their bite.

I had lost my connection with the universal energy and gained in its place precognition, visions, and a healing gift I could not control.

She narrowed her eyes at Ciera. “You know, for a smart lady, you’re kinda dumb about some real-life stuff, aren’t you?

I also juggle,” he said in a grave tone, “and am quite adept with a deck of cards.

Or I just sent my dragon into the woods to fetch rodents for you because I'm the wicked witch your grandmother warned you about.

The wellness remembers the deep living of the wound, & so is happier than any easy health.

normal came in more shades and sizes than most Humans could imagine,

Beba moved away for a moment and observed the scene. Standing in the water up to his waist, a young man in wide trousers, with a little waistcoat pulled over his naked torso and a turban on his head, was gazing in reverence at a little old lady, in the shape of a horizontal letter S, wearing child's swimming costume with the Teletubbies printed on it, floating on a lounger. The old lady resembled a hen, while the young man looked like a hero out of A Thousand and One Nights. 'Shall we order another bottle of champagne?' suggested Beba.

You were thinking about the hunky sheriff. I don't blame you. If I weren't a dragon, and a male one at that, I'd be drooling over him myself." He lifted his muzzle to look at her. "So what are you going to do about him?" Baba sighed. "Probably something truly unwise." "Excellent," Chudo-Yudo said. "About time. No one should be wise all the time. Not even a Baba.

Allow me to mention here that a stupid girl, one who spends the whole day picking her nose and lazing on the stove, and eventually becomes a princess or a queen, is completely unthinkable in fairytales! The imagination of folktale-tellers created an equivalent of male heroism in the characters of Slavic Amazons (the Russian Sineglazka or the 'Giant Girls', Div-devojke, in Serbian folksongs), but grubby, idle, and stupid girls are usually punished with death. Wealth, a throne and love are only conceivable as rewards for grubby, idle, stupid guys!

Sam could feel his jaw drop open, but it took him a moment to gather himself together enough to shut it. He blinked at Jazz. "Did that cat just talk, or am I losing my mind?" Koshka laughed, a bizarre sound coming from something with whiskers and ear tufts. "So you believe in witches but not to talking cats? You have a very limited worldview, Human. You might want to work on that.

Many have come to understand that while reality and truth are not always the same, they do not necessarily oppose or preclude one another. The myths of Shiva, the lake and the mountain, Buddhist stories and visualisations, the feeling of a mountain rising: none of these need be literal in order to be considered truthful. Such moments simply point to a truth as complex as the people who seek to understand them.

Only one kiss. That was what he had intended. But Ciera’s lips were sweet like the juice of a pomegranate, and her skin under his hands felt like velvet. When she put her arms around him, he deepened the kiss, pulling the pins out of her hair until it cascaded over her shoulders. The tiny jingle of the bits of metal falling to the floor was almost lost in the moan she let out when he moved his lips down her neck, and then he was lost too.

Sam held one of the mice up by its tail over the box and then hesitated. "Her, you want to have a go?"... If Sam thought she was going to squeal at the sight of nature in the raw, he had a lot to learn. Bella fed the owlet, cheering as he gulped down his food with a greedy intensity that bode well for the little guy's future recovery. And she grinned to herself when she heard Sam mutter under this breath. "This has got to be the weirdest first date in history.

Tko zna, možda je cijeli trik u tome da kćerke svojim jakama nameću prevelike zahtjeve. Majke osjećaju krivicu, a onda protest zbog krivice i nametnutih očekivanja. Istu mješavinu krivice i srdžbe osjećaju i kćeri. I sve se vrti u zatvorenu krugu.

Don't be disgusting. Don't dare me. I majored in disgusting at Gulag Community College. Lucrezia Borgia taught cooking, and Madame Defarge taught knitting. Emperor Nero taught violin and also led the cheerleading squad. I skipped all my classes and failed with distinction.

I love you," he said, holding her close and running his fingers through her tangled hair as if he couldn't believe she was still in his arms. "I think you've cast a spell on me, wicked witch that you are." Baba thought that if this is what it meant to be wicked, she was all for it.

tada je po prvi puta shvatila da smo svasta ustanju progutati [...] i sve se to moze podnijeti, samo je jedna stvar tesko svarljiva: prizor tudje boli ciji smo slucajni svjedoci, pogled na dusu koja nezaustavljivo curi iz tijela koa mlaz mokrace... Pred takvim prizorom ostajemo hipnotizirani kao zec pred udavom.

His booted feet pounded out an insane, frantic rhythm underneath him as he raced into the cavern across from Baba Yaga’s den at a dead sprint. Pieces of dragon dung flew off him and hit the ground behind him in miniature chunks. He didn’t dare look behind him to see if the dragon had risen from the ground yet, but the deafening hiss that assaulted his ears meant she’d woken up. Icy claws of fear squeezed his heart with every breath as he ran, relying on the night vision goggles, the glimpse he’d gotten of the map, and his own instincts to figure out where to go. Jack raced around one corner too sharply and slipped on a piece of dung, crashing hard on his right side. He gasped as it knocked the wind out of him and gritted his teeth, his mind screaming at him to get up and run, run, run. He pushed onto his knees, nursing what felt like bruised ribs and a sprained wrist, and then paled as an unmistakable sensation traveled up the arm he’d used to push himself up. Impact tremors. Boom. Boom. Boom, boom, boom. Baba Yaga was coming. Baba Yaga was hunting him. Jack forced himself up onto his feet again, stumbling backwards and fumbling for the tracker. He got it switched on to see an ominous blob approaching from the right. He’d gotten a good lead on her—maybe a few hundred yards—but he had no way of knowing if he’d eventually run into a dead end. He couldn’t hide down here forever. He needed to get topside to join the others so they could take her down. Jack blocked out the rising crescendo of Baba Yaga’s hissing and pictured the map again. A mile up to the right had a man-made exit that spilled back up to the forest. The only problem was that it was a long passage. If Baba Yaga followed, there was a good chance she could catch up and roast him like a marshmallow. He could try to lose her in the twists and turns of the cave system, but there was a good chance he’d get lost, and Baba Yaga’s superior senses meant it would only be a matter of time before she found him. It came back to the most basic survival tactics: run or hide. Jack switched off the tracker and stuck it in his pocket, his voice ragged and shaking, but solid. “You aren’t about to die in this forest, Jackson. Move your ass.” He barreled forward into the passageway to the right in the wake of Baba Yaga’s ominous, bubbling warning, barely suppressing a groan as a spike of pain lanced through his chest from his bruised ribs. The adrenaline would only hold for so long. He could make it about halfway there before it ran out. Cold sweat plastered the mask to his face and ran down into his eyes. The tunnel stretched onward forever before him. No sunlight in sight. Had he been wrong? Jack ripped off the hood and cold air slapped his face, making his eyes water. He held his hands out to make sure he wouldn’t bounce off one of the cavern walls and squinted up ahead as he turned the corner into the straightaway. There, faintly, he could see the pale glow of the exit. Gasping for air, he collapsed against one wall and tried to catch his breath before the final marathon. He had to have put some amount of distance between himself and the dragon by now. “Who knows?” Jack panted. “Maybe she got annoyed and turned around.” An earth-shattering roar rocked the very walls of the cavern. Jack paled. Boom, boom, boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom, boomboomboomboom— Mother of God. The dragon had broken into a run. Jack shoved himself away from the wall, lowered his head, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

The life of every being has , some vast emptiness in it. Unspeakable, grievous. ;There is a field in the middle of my wood where no one goes. It is the heart of my loneliness. I go there to dance & be quiet. & I love the intensity of its silence. If I were human I would wish to take another there. You must know every contour of yr emptiness before you can know whom you wish to invite in.

Da, u covjeku se razvio strašan apetit za zivotom. Otkada je postalo izvjesno da ga na nebu ne očekuje drugi život, da su kriteriji za vizu u pakao ili raj poljuljani, te da reinkarnacija u vepra ili štakora nije baš neki bingo, čovjek je odlucio da se zadrži tu gdje jest koliko može, ili drugim riječima da žvaće žvakaću gumu svoga života sto duže i da se pri tom zabavlja napuhujući balončiće.