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Curses Quotes

Browse 70 quotes about Curses.

Curses Quotes

“Some of the best things that have ever happened to us wouldn’t have happened to us, if it weren’t for some of the worst things that have ever happened to us.”

“For him that stealeth, or borroweth and returneth not, this book from its owner, Let it change into a serpent in his hand and rend him. Let him be struck with palsy and all his members blasted. Let him languish in pain crying out for mercy, Let there be no surcease to his agony till he sink in dissolution. Let bookworms gnaw his entrails in token of the worm that dieth not. When at last he goeth to his final punishment, Let the flames of Hell consume him forever. [attributed to the Monastery of San Pedro in Barcelona, Spain]”

“The Beshrewing of Tom o' Bedlam by Stewart Stafford Fie and a plague on thee! Nay, a pox! May legions of hellions float through thee, And may thou fall in the dung of an ox. May the thing below thine eyes, Take on the appearance of a sprout, And may the things above thy chin, Resemble a harlot's spout. May Heaven strike thee dumb, Aye, dumber than thou art now, May thy words become those of a lunatic, And thy breathing the grunting of a sow. Verily, I do not wish thee misfortune, Lest it rebounds back upon me, But, as long as it befalls thee first, I may live quite merrily. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”

“Lyly screamed and ran to Tyler. “I can’t let you go until I tell you.” “Tell me what?” Tyler asked. “You’re the coolest boy I ever met. I will never forget you. I dreamt of a boy with two different colored brown eyes, and that boy showed me the way home. It was written in the stars, Tyler,” Lyly said. “I will remember you forever.”

“Helen slowly became aware of an unnerving red light. She lifted her head and looked around. The glow bounced off the cold stone walls and intensified quickly. It filled her with thoughts of despair and hopelessness. She tried to shake them off. You have what’s mine! Where is it? I want it! Helen shuddered violently. She recalled the inner voice that urged her to use the stone to keep Prince Harnak from dying. That voice was comforting and encouraging. This voice was oppressive and angry and beat on her relentlessly. “No!” she muttered. “Go away. I have nothing for you or anyone else, not even me.” The red light flickered out. Only the numbing cold and her utter isolation, cheerless companions, remained.”

“One notorious apikoros named Hiwa al-Balkhi, writing in ninth-century Persia, offered two hundred awkward questions to the faithful. He drew upon himself the usual thunderous curses—'may his name be forgotten, may his bones be worn to nothing'—along with detailed refutations and denunciations by Abraham ibn Ezra and others. These exciting anathemas, of course, ensured that his worrying 'questions' would remain current for as long as the Orthodox commentaries would be read. In this way, rather as when Maimonides says that the Messiah will come but that 'he may tarry,' Jewishness contrives irony at its own expense. If there is one characteristic of Jews that I admire, it is that irony is seldom if ever wasted on them.”

“Somebody gives a lonely child a toy and they pour all their hopes and fears and problems into it. Do it long enough and intensely enough, and then it just needs a stray bit of bad luck and the toy wakes up. Of course, it knows that the only reason it is alive is because of the child. A tiny personal god with one worshipper. It latches on and... well.' She clicked her tongue. 'Normally, you get them pried off and burned long before adolescence. Impressive that it lasted this long.”

“Once quaking with the thunderous hoofbeats of the Wild Hunt, the ground was now littered with the broken limbs of the fallen, swept into the fray by the raging beasts. Bodies fell like autumn leaves, painting the mossy floor red. Their lifeless eyes stared up at the darkened sky, frozen in time, as yet another plea went unanswered by the goddess. They tried, in vain, to do what no other had done before, to rise up against an enemy made of shadows and hate, magic and malice.”

“There would be no survivors come morning. There never were. The Hunt left no hearts beating. There was no escaping the Sidhe. Not even the Fomorians, the powerful demons from below the sea, had outrun the pale ones and were driven back into the bellies of their waves and waters. But the Milesians were not demons like the Fomori. When they had come to Éire, they had a goddess blessed right to claim, and claim it they would. With spilled blood, unthinkable bargains and curses that would stain generations to come, the Milesians stood their ground.”

“The Sidhe oathed themselves to the demands of the victors, but nothing was free. Even freedom came with a cost, a debt waiting to be collected. The fading echoes of horses and haunting sounds of horns signaled the end of one era and the beginning of a new age, with the path of sacrifice nearly forgotten by all but the fae.”

“The moment I stepped foot on the grounds of Legacy House, a chill ran down my spine, as if the air was saturated with the ghosts of those who were buried beneath my feet. It wasn’t just a feeling of this place being haunted. It was a certainty. Falias had been born into the belly of war, and if a person stayed still long enough, they’d be able to smell the bones of the fallen. Nothing covered up the stench of the fae or the death that trailed behind them like rotting puppy dogs.”