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Castle Quotes

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Castle Quotes

“You’re thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it slip let it go say ”I give up” one last time and give him a sad smile. You’re thinking it shouldn’t be this hard, shouldn’t be this dark, thinking love could flow easily with no holding back and you’ve seen others find their match and build something great together, of each other, like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great things one by one, always together, and it seems grand. But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest you couldn’t live without because it fits in there. Makes you who you are and the thought of him gone—no more—makes your chest tighten up and maybe this is your fairytale. Maybe this is your castle. You could get it all on a shiny piece of glass with wooden stools and a neverending blooming garden but that’s not yours. This is yours. The cracks and the faults, the ugly words in the winter walking home alone and angry but falling asleep thinking you love him. This is your fairy tale. The quiet in the hallway, wishing for him to turn around, tell you to stay, tell you to please don’t go I need you like you need me and maybe it’s not a Jane Austen novel but this is your novel and your castle and you can run from it your whole life but this is here in front of you. Maybe nurture it? Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an hour or two. This is your fairy. It ain’t perfect and it ain’t honey sweet with roses on the bed. It’s real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love. Don’t throw it away searching for someone else’s love. Don’t be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go. Be someone’s someone for someone. Be that someone for him. That’s your fairy tale. This is your castle. Now move in. Build a home. Build a house. Build a safety around things you love. It’s yours if you make it so. Welcome home, sweet girl, it will be all be fine.”

LoveTwoRomanceYoungGirlNovelSadnessTrustHeartbreakGardenSafetyTrue LoveWinterHeartacheFairyHardshipLove QuoteFairy TaleFinding LoveLove PoemLove PoetryYoung LoveRosesJane AustenHerStayLooking For LoveHimTrustingCastleYou And IWelcome HomeFinding HomeDon T GoYour Castle
Author:Charlotte Eriksson
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“Merida wondered at how splendid the castle looked in this light, old DunBroch, a castle made new. The rising sun caught each of the panes of glass and lit them like spring fire. The ivy was green and lush. The berries in the Christmas boughs were bright as battle. It was a grand and welcoming and beautiful sight, vibrant and alive. Yes, there was smoking fire in the background and walls had newly been knocked down, but it was impossible not to see that beneath that, the castle had a live and beating heart. It had changed. It had earned its freedom from Feradach's destruction. It had become something new. Or rather, it was still DunBroch, but it was DunBroch, grown, changing, moving onward, and Merida was fiercely proud.”

HomeChangeSteadfastnessCastleDunbroch
Book:Bravely
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“I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may be amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through wearing years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.”

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Author:Bram Stoker
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“Everybody is equally weak on the inside, just that some present their ruins as new castles and become kings –”

PlayRomanceStrongForceFearPowerfulFictionPowerMysteryStrengthWeaknessWeakYoung AdultGhostDestroyedMysteriousRuinsSuspenseMaskAbandonPresentGothicKingSelf ImageQueenDestroyImageDevastatedPretendInsideOutsideEveryoneRuinCastleGeneralGothic RomanceNobodyEverybodyNo OneFortressCardewFreyaStrongholdFort
Book:Nightmarish Sacrifice
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“But you are like any other knight," she said bitterly. "You want to rescue the beautiful maiden in the tower." "Well, if she's there, I suppose it's only polite to rescue her. Though I'm embarassed to say that some of my fellow knghts woud probably only be interested if the maiden had a treasure to go along with her." "There's no treasure." "I didn't think there was. I mostly came for answers. Or maybe just the story.”

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Book:Thornhedge
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“It's supposed to be very beautiful, the Citadel,' Oak says. 'It is beautiful, Wren?' When the light went through the ice of the castle, it made rainbows that danced along its cold halls. You could almost see through the walls, as though the whole place was one large, cloudy window. When I was brought to it for the first time, I thought it was like living inside a sparkling diamond. 'It's not,' I say. 'It's an ugly place.”

BeautifulHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenOakOak GreenbriarCastleRainbowsIce Needle Citadel
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“If you go anywhere near that filthy old man,” Inge said fiercely, “I’ll have you thrown into the king’s dungeons!” She spoiled her threat the next moment by asking, “Does the king even have dungeons, Colonel Raske?” "He does, but stocks are a more common punishment for insubordinate soldiers.” “But I can still order him to the dungeons, can’t I?” “Yes, Your Highness.”

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Book:The Legendary Inge
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“The sight of the centuries-old stone walls never failed to captivate me, evoking a sense of history and grandeur. Stepping inside, I was greeted by the timeless beauty of the castle's architecture. The walls whispered stories of the past, while the ornate furnishings and artwork adorned each room with elegance. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, allowing me to escape the hustle and bustle of daily life and immerse myself in the tranquil atmosphere. I wandered through the halls, taking in the breathtaking views of the Ligurian coastline that stretched out before me. The waters sparkled under the sun's warm embrace, inviting me to lose myself in its vastness.”

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Book:Serenade of Solitude
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“The Castle Of Fear by Stewart Stafford The ghost sweated out from battlements, Appeared bleeding into full-bodied shape, The riddle of this phantom's raison d'être, Opaque as the spectre walked transparently. The armour that clad the body blinded eyes, The bagpipes it carried underarm deafened, The steely gaze froze the viewer on the spot, The sour odour it emitted made all nauseous. The wraith's left foot piteously dragged behind, Shuffling moans of pain, trailing the footsteps, Banshee shrieks, harrowing to all that heard, Dawn drained the strength, and it took flight. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

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Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Seeing his daughter slowly die, coupled with his infinite sadness and misery, the clockmaker becomes a recluse to the tower of the castle and begins to build something behind closed doors, not even his daughter knows what he’s up to. For five years, she only sees him briefly at meal-times before locking himself up in the tower once again..." "...Did he have a bathroom in the tower?" "Yes, Jack. A big one! En-suite! Power-shower and spa! Where was I!?”

FunnyDeathLossGriefPowerClockMourningSarcasmBathroomHilariousWeirdMournRecluseCastleBehind Closed DoorsShowerToiletPottySpaClockmakerBereavmentPotty Time
Book:Hearts Anonymous
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“Then we looked back and saw where the clear line of Dracula’s castle cut the sky; for we were so deep under the hill whereon it was set that the angle of perspective of the Carpathian mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its grandeur, perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer precipice, and with seemingly a great gap between it and the steep of the adjacent mountain on any side. There was something wild and uncanny about the place. We could hear the distant howling of wolves. They were far off, but the sound, even though coming muffled through the deadening snowfall, was full of terror.”

HorrorDraculaCastleBram Stoker
Author:Bram Stoker
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“When sleep came, I would dream bad dreams. Not the baby and the big man with a cigarette-lighter dream. Another dream. The castle dream. A little girl of about six who looks -like me, but isn’t me, is happy as she steps out of the car with her daddy. They enter the castle and go down the steps to the dungeon where people move like shadows in the glow of burning candles. There are carpets and funny pictures on the walls. Some of the people wear hoods and robes. Sometimes they chant in droning voices that make the little girl afraid. There are other children, some of them without any clothes on. There is an altar like the altar in nearby St Mildred’s Church. The children take turns lying on that altar so the people, mostly men, but a few women, can kiss and lick their private parts. The daddy holds the hand of the little girl tightly. She looks up at him and he smiles. The little girl likes going out with her daddy. I did want to tell Dr Purvis these dreams but I didn’t want her to think I was crazy, and so kept them to myself. The psychiatrist was wiser than I appreciated at the time; sixteen-year-olds imagine they are cleverer than they really are. Dr Purvis knew I had suffered psychological damage as a child, that’s why she kept making a fresh appointment week after week. But I was unable to give her the tools and clues to find out exactly what had happened.”

CrazyHorrorVictimCookingMental HealthTerrorPsychologicalTherapyTortureSurvivorSexual AbuseDissociative Identity DisorderDissociationMultiple Personality DisorderRitual AbuseDissociativeCastleTherapistPedophilesDerealizationPaedophile RingPsychotherapistOut Of Body
Book:Today I'm Alice: Nine Personalities, One Tortured Mind
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“He felt like a character in a book. He thought of Mary Lennox as she discovered her secret garden. The blackberry bushes had become too thick to ride through and Percy dismounted, leaving Prince beneath the shade of a thick-trunked oak tree. He chose a strong whip of wood and started carving his way through the knotted vines. He was no longer a boy whose legs didn't always do as he wished; he was Sir Gawain on the lookout for the Green Knight, Lord Byron on his way to fight a duel, Beowulf leading an army upon Grendel. So keen was his focus on his swordplay that he didn't realize at first that he'd emerged from the forested area and was standing now on what must have been the top of a gravel driveway. Looming above him was not so much a house as a castle. Two enormous floors, with mammoth rectangular windows along each face and an elaborate stone balustrade of Corinthian columns running around all four sides of its flat roof. He thought at once of Pemberley, and half expected to see Mr. Darcy come striding through the big double doors, riding crop tucked beneath his arm as he jogged down the stone steps that widened in an elegant sweep as they reached the turning circle where he stood.”

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Book:Homecoming
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“People either build a castle or a dungeon. The former by their virtues, pull people into positive edifices with gainful impression. The later by their vices, push people into negative huts with painful oppression.”

PeoplePainLeadershipLeaderVirtueSelf ImprovementGainsFood For ThoughtPainfulVicesIsraelmore AyivorPersonal DevelopmentGoodHealImpressionOppressionLeadersImpressBadManipulateCastlesMisleadKillOppressorsDungeonsEdificeVirtuesGainViceLead PeopleCastlePushGood Or BadManipulatorOppressorPainsOppressOppressiveDungeonMisleadersManipulationsManipulatorsPain And GainGainfulMisleaderEdifices
Book:Leaders' Ladder
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“At one end of the vast C bitten from the castle a sin­gle great bastion-tower stood, almost intact, five kilometres high, and casting a kilometre-wide shadow across the rum­pled ground in front of the convoy. The walls had tumbled down around the tower, vanishing completely on one side and leaving only a ridge of fractured material barely five hundred metres high on the other. The plant-mass babilia, unique to the fastness and ubiquitous within it, coated all but the smoothest of vertical surfaces with tumescent hanging forests of lime-green, royal blue and pale, rusty orange; only the heights of scarred wall closest to the more actively venting fissures and fumaroles remained untouched by the tenacious vegetation.”

CastleFastnessSerepha
Book:Feersum Endjinn
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“A falcon. I can see that. I thought you said nothing lived here?” Sand’s face went blank. “There was nothing alive, except for me, until Merlin. And then you.” Perrotte bit back her exasperation, and said simply, “Go on.” He twined his blunt-tipped fingers together, staring down at them. “I, erm. I found the falcon in the mews.” “So, it’s not true that there was nothing alive in the castle?” “The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow. “The falcon was dead!” Sand blurted out. “Stuffed and mounted, and then also damaged in the sundering. I mended him, and put him on the mantel, so I’d have something to talk to. But a couple days before you—you came upstairs—” He gestured helplessly at the bird, who stopped stripping water from its feathers just long enough to glare at the humans. Perrotte stared. “The bird came to life,” she whispered. “After you put it to rights, this falcon came to life. Just like me.” “Well . . .”

LifeBirdSandThornsMiddle GradeBehindCastleMgMerrie HaskellPerrotteMended
Book:The Castle Behind Thorns
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“Perrotte frowned. “I’d like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,” she said. “I’d cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through—” She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. “What? You don’t like bloodthirstiness?” she asked. “Pardon? No. I’m horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.”

FunnySandThornsMiddle GradeSwordBehindCastleMgMerrie HaskellPerrottePlowshare
Book:The Castle Behind Thorns
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