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Oak Quotes

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Oak Quotes

“The Birnam Oak by Stewart Stafford Medieval guardian, limpet oak, Reinforced branches, sunlit soak, Gnarled limbs in supplicant pose, A statuesque deity in thorny repose. Set up tent 'neath a canopy deep, Where my pilgrim forbears sleep, Midges swarming campfire's glow, And drowsy me, to slumber go. May roots prosper far from sight, Defying storm, flame, chainsaw's bite, Give verdant breath to creation's plan. Until Earth falls from human hand. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

TreeShakespeareOakOak TreeNature PoetryMacbethNature PoemNature PoemsNature Poems Irish PoetBirnam Wood
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Then he gives me his quicksilver smile, the kind that makes me feel as though we are friends conspiring together. 'Since you're in a benevolent mood, perhaps you'll also dance with me.' My surprise must be evident. 'Why?' He grins. 'To celebrate you continuing with this quest. Because we're at a party. So that Queen Annet believes we've got nothing to hide.' 'Do we have something to hide?' I ask. He smiles wider, giving me a tug toward the revellers. 'Always.”

DanceHolly BlackSmilingThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenHideOakOak GreenbriarAsking To Dance
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“Shall we put our dance practice to some purpose?' he asks. 'Dance?' I ask, my voice coming out a little high. His gaze goes to the circles of leaping and cavorting Folk. I wonder if he is in shock. I have just come from betraying him. I feel rather shocked about it. I put my hand in his as if mesmerised. There is only the warmth of his fingers against my chilly skin. His amber fox eyes, pupils wide and dark. His teeth catch his lip, as though he's nervous. I reach up and touch his cheek. Blood and freckles. He's shaking a little. I guess if I'd done what he did, I'd still be shaking, too.”

DanceNervousHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirOakOak GreenbriarAsking To DanceMesmerised
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“Let me stay in the woods with you,' he said with a huff of breath. I imagined it. Having him share tea with me and Mr. Fox. I could show him the places to pick the sweetest blackberries. We could eat burdock and red clover and parasol mushrooms. At night we would lie on our backs and whisper together. He would tell me about the constellations, about theories of magic, and the plots of television shows he'd seen while in the mortal world. I would tell him all the secret thoughts of my heart. For a moment, it seemed possible. But eventually they would come for him, the way that Lady Nore and Lord Jarel came for me. If he was lucky, it would be his sister's guards dragging him back to Elfhame. If he wasn't, it would be a knife in the dark from one of his enemies. He did not belong here, sleeping in dirt. Scrabbling out an existence at the very edges of things. 'No,' I made myself tell him. 'Go home.' I could see the hurt in his face. The honest confusion that came with unexpected pain. 'Why?' he asked, sounding so lost that I wanted to snatch back my words. 'When you found me tied to that stake, I thought about hurting you,' I told him, hating myself. 'You are not my friend.' I do not want you here. Those are the words I ought to have said, but couldn't because they would be a lie. 'Ah,' he said. 'Well.' I let out a breath. 'You can stay the night,' I blurted out, unable to resist the temptation. 'Tomorrow, you go home. If you don't, I'll use the last favour you owe me from our game to force you. 'What if I go and come back again? he asked, trying to mask his hurt. 'You won't.' When he got home, his sisters and his mother would be waiting. They would have worried when they couldn't find him. They'd make him promise never to do anything like that again. 'You have too much honour.”

LyingHurtHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenOakOak GreenbriarRun AwayFor Their Own Good
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“His hand touches my back lightly, making me shiver. 'Do you know what I admire about you?' Truly, I cannot imagine what he will say next. 'That you never stopped being angry,' he tells me. 'It can be brave to hate. Sometimes it's like hope.' I hadn't felt brave in the Court of Teeth. I had felt only a clawing desperation, as though I was forever drowning in some vast sea, gulping seawater as I sank, and then just when I felt I was going to let myself drop beneath the waves, something would make me kick one more time. Maybe that thing was hate. Hating requires going on, even when you can no longer believe in any better future. But I am shocked that Oak, of all people, would know that.”

HateHopeBraveAdmirationHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenOakOak Greenbriar
Book:The Stolen Heir
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