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Willow Quotes

Browse 53 quotes about Willow.

Willow Quotes

“Love, the exotic bird, came and went. Heart forgot love. Joy, the majestic willow, wept and died. Mind forgot joy. Hope, the basement lamp, fell and broke. Soul forgot hope. Self, the anxious caterpillar, took flight and dropped. Self forgot self. You, my all, became all my reasons. Reasons left. You left. I never forgot.”

“If you feel like you don't fit into the world you inherited it is because you were born to help create a new one.”

“To completely understand me you must first accept that I am not you.”

“My dream is to create something so beautiful that it encourages people to present the best version of themselves to me everywhere I go.”

“Every decision you make in life will stem from one of two options: love or fear. Choose love.”

“Eternity will not cause our memories to fade, it will force our hearts to accept the past.”

“To struggle against the weight of sleep as reality eclipses the moon of your dreams is the purest sign of true love.”

“Cherish your existence, for memories become legacies and life can change in an instant.”

“Try to think of it as though we are rewriting history––the first time this experience occurred you and I never kissed in this Dream Machine room. But now when we leave here, and open our eyes again near the wall around the center of Constance, that kiss will be included in our memories of the day we first met. We could spend a lifetime recreating this moment here, meanwhile, not a single second of our lives would slip by back in our reality. Time seems to move differently inside of our memories.”

“As her feet beat the concrete ground beneath them, her chest began to ache. It had been a long time since she had run at a full sprint. She was, quite literally, running for her life, and leaving everything she had known before behind. Regardless of her past experiences, here she was, blindly following a girl, who was virtually a stranger, because she had promised to lead Eleanor to safety.”

“Eleanor had heard talk of the rebellion that existed inside the city of Constance before. Most of the information she gathered was considered an old fairy tale by the general public. There were a few stories here and there about people angered by their present living conditions, who had demanded that the center of Constance be held responsible for it. However, information was never passed between the five different sectors. Over the years the tales of the rebellion had become children’s bedtime stories, and people did not take them seriously.”

“Here we go,” Phoenix said, turning back to Nora. “Try not to let this room scare you.”

“Around him he noted that the woods were flaming. A fine flame was playing over the leafless branches, not gaudy like the fires of autumn, but strong and pure. The trees,not now by accident of life but in themselves, were again etherialised. For a brief space, in spring, before the leaf comes, the life in trees is like a pure and subtle fire, in buds and boughs. Willows are like yellow rods of fire, blood-red burns in sycamore and scales off in floating flakes as the bud unfolds and the sheath is loosened. Beeches and elms, all dull beneath, have webs of golden and purple brown upon their spreading tops. Purple blazes in the birch twigs and smoulders darkly in the blossom of the ash. At no other season are the trees so liitle earthly. Mere vegetable matter they are not. One understands the dryad myth, both the emergence of the vivid delicate creature and her melting again in her tree; for in a week, a day, the foliage thickens, she is a tree again.”

“...her hand closes on smooth metal. Her fingers test the sharpness of the edge. Perfect. It's a fresh blade. The girls' voices rustle in her head. Their clamoring pushes out all rational thought. She rolls up her sleeve. The bite of the blade kills the noise. It wipes out the memory of those staring faces. Willow looks at her arm, at the life springing from her. Tiny pinpricks of red that blossom into giant peonies.”

“I needed the puppy. More to the point, I needed that puppy. Willow kept me connected to the world when I was tempted to give up on it. She seemed to know what I was thinking or was about to think. She followed me everywhere, her tail eager to wag, her pink tongue quick to loll with doggy laughter. If I went out without her, she knew the moment I turned for home, and waited by the door for me to appear. She filled the empty spaces of my life with her bright spirit and lively presence. I came to feel that she reflected me, in an uncanny way, as if she were the canine version of myself.”

“Living alone had made me sensitive. When Will was still at the farm, I didn't differentiate the scent of wild fennel from that of slowly ripening blackberries or notice how cloud patterns changed from season to season. I didn't scan the sky to anticipate the weather or feel the air with my fingertips to decide whether to hang washing on the line. Sometimes I thought I might be acquiring some of Willow's talents. When she put up her muzzle into the breeze, her nostrils fluttered as if she were riffling the pages of a book, learning secrets carried on the wind. It seemed to me I sensed almost as much as she did.”

“His eyes narrowed, and I thought this was the moment he would lose his control, begin to shout at me. Maybe even attack me, as he had done before. He stiffened and took a step forward. Willow growled louder, a wonderfully terrifying sound. She, too, took a step forward, and that stopped Will where he was, as surely as if he had run into a wall. I said with satisfaction, "You're afraid of her." "When did you get a dog? She looks mean." My anger had cooled enough for me to think clear, hard thoughts. To be as cagey as Will himself. I felt as if I had lived multiple lifetimes since I had last seen Will, and I was stronger, tougher, wiser for my experiences. I said in as chilly a tone as I could produce, "This is Willow. She is mean. You want to be careful around her. She'll bite you if you do something she doesn't like, and she never likes anything I don't like." Willow had never bitten a person in her life, but I had told the truth. She wouldn't let Will or anyone else hurt me if she could possibly help it.”

“Willow!" I shouted, as I thrust my bare feet into my gardening boots. "Find Emma!" It wasn't a command the dog had ever heard, but Willow was no ordinary dog. Willow was a gift dog, a dog perfectly designed for the Blythe talent. She knew what I needed, and she knew how to follow her instincts. She had brought the baby home in the first place, and she would do all she could to bring her back.”

“I moaned, "No!" That seemed to be the signal Willow was waiting for. She broke, bounding away from me, racing down the dock. As she lunged forward, she emitted a sound I had never heard from her, that I had never heard from any dog. It wasn't a bark, or a snarl, or a growl. It was more like the roar of a lion than any sound a dog should make, and it cut through Emma's cries, the gulls' shrieks, the rush of the waves.”

“Rachel's voice is fierce. The Commander will send out scouts. We should-" "Oh, he sent out scouts," Willow says. "Five of them. And they were doing a good job of searching the city. Unfortunately for them, all they managed to find was me." "You killed them?" Ian asks. "No. I invited them over for dinner." She smacks his shoulder. "the sun is almost down. By the time the Commander realizes his scouts aren't coming back, it will be too dark to send more. He can't risk us seeing torchlight, and they can't search these ruins without light." "You scare me a little," Ian says, but his voice is full of admiration. Adam steps closer to Willow. "She's good at everything she does." Quinn clears his throat." Maybe we should get back to the problem?" "We can't travel at night," I say. "We need light as well. But we can leave at dawn, and-" "They'll leave at dawn, too," Adam says. "And if they're that close already, there's no way we can outrun them. Not with children and elderly and the wagons." "Which is why we're going to create a barrier between us," I say. "Something they can't cross." Rachel meets my eyes, and her smile is cold and bright. "Fire." I match her smile with one of my own. "Fire. And when the army finally gets past the blaze, we won't be where they expect, because we're leaving the main road behind." "What are we waiting for?" Willow asks. "Let's go burn something down.”

“As the leaves randomly fell, she contemplated how they sacrificially gave up their essence to sustain new life. Or was it the tree’s sacrifice? Each leaf was a part of Gaia’s play. Their final act: to decompose so a new level of soil could be made, an earthen writing tablet for the next layer of history to be recorded. One generation became the groundwork for the next. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Nothing was exempt, not even the leaves.”

“By now, at the end of a sloping alley, we had reached the shores of a vast marsh. Some unknown quality in the sparkling water had stained its whole bed a bright yellow. Green leaves, of such a sour brightness as almost poisoned to behold, floated on the surface of the rush-girdled pools. Weeds like tempting veils of mossy velvet grew beneath in vivid contrast with the soil. Alders and willows hung over the margin. From where we stood a half-submerged path of rough stones, threaded by deep swift channels, crossed to the very centre. ("The Basilisk")”

“They all seemed hungry, happy, and healthy enough in their buzzing—oh the days were hot, and the noise of bees filled the air that was dusty with pollen and sun haze, and there were tiny black flies stuck to one another crowded by the creek and a creek stink rising from the deep pool under the willow tree where a wheat sack of new kittens had been drowned, and their tiny terrible struggling had shot like an electric current through the confusion of muddy water and up the arm of the person who had tied the stone around the mouth of the sack and thrust it into the water; and the culprit had not been able to brush away the current; it penetrated her body and made her heart beat with fear and pity. I was the culprit.”

“The natural world gives us many examples of the great effectiveness of this way. The Chinese philosophy of which judo itself is an expression—Taoism—drew attention to the power of water to overcome all obstacles by its gentleness and pliability. It showed how the supple willow survives the tough pine in a snowstorm, for whereas the unyielding branches of the pine accumulate snow until they crack, the springy boughs of the willow bend under its weight, drop the snow, and jump back again. If, when swimming, you are caught in a strong current, it is fatal to resist. You must swim with it and gradually edge to the side. One who falls from a height with stiff limbs will break them, but if he relaxes like a cat he will fall safely. A building without 'give' in its structure will easily collapse in storm or earthquake, and a car without the cushioning of tires and springs will soon come apart on the road. The mind has just the same powers, for it has give and can absorb shocks like water or a cushion. But this giving way to an opposing force is not at all the same thing as running away. A body of water does not run away when you push it; it simply gives at the point of the push and encloses your hand. A shock absorber does not fall down like a bowling-pin when struck; it gives, and yet stays in the same place. To run away is the only defense of something rigid against an overwhelming force. Therefore the good shock absorber has not only 'give,' but also stability or 'weight.”