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Witch Quotes

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Witch Quotes

“But through the ash and darkness I saw him. My dragon. Beautiful, terrible, fierce. The scars of his stories still evident, even in this form. I remembered the ones who'd come before me, those who had also pried open his shuttered heart. The ones who had left him. But I wasn't ready to go yet; I wouldn't leave my dragon in that dark place again to pick up the pieces of his fallen loved ones in isolation. And Ryker wouldn't let me go. "Ryker!" I screamed as I fell. He was enormous, beating his wings and trying to rise up to meet me. One of his wings was a tattered mess, but still he pushed up, his body beginning to shift and change. He shrank and shed his scales, turning back into the human shape I'd known him in but keeping the wings that helped push him to me in a desperate gust. My eyes were flooding, tears falling every which way in the wind as I fell. I stretched out my arms to him, and he reached up and grabbed me. "Dani!" he growled over the wind. I was pulled into his chest, my head tucked under his chin as my hot, wet tears soaked us both. "It's over, he's dead. I told you my fire would never hurt you.”

“A long time ago I lived in Lisbon,' she said, in softly slurred Portuguese that made the name of the city Leesh-boa. 'But before that, meus neto, my tribe was in the mountains where there are only old things, like the trees and the rocks and the streams. There are truths to be learned from the old things -' She hesitated, and her brown, shrunken claw closed over Pete's hand. 'Do you know the truth, Pedrinho?' ("Before I Wake...")”

“And she looked up at the stone just as a seam appeared down the middle and the two sides swung inward, like great stone doors. Not like stone doors, Xan thought. They are stone doors. The shape of the stone still stood like a doorway against the blue sky, but the entrance itself opened into the a very dim corridor where a set stone steps disappeared into the dark.”

“How do you know I’m not making it up? You don’t. Things work because you believe in them. Call it faith or will or coincidence or whatever. If you believe it will help to light a candle and ask the universe to help you understand the mystery and meaning of the Hierophant, then it will. Don’t spend a bunch of money on learning how to get to know your cards. Just do it. Say hi to them and get to work.”

“There is no one way. The is no one path. There is you, your cards, and your gift. That’s it. Read a lot. Watch other readers. Practice on your friends (and tell them that you’re practicing). You can figure out your style with some research and time. No worries. Remember, this is supposed to be fun. In tarot readings (and in all other things), please stop comparing yourself to other people. Compare yourself to yourself.”

“And she was angry because she knew she was capable of many things she couldn't even define to herself, so they seemed like bad dreams - that is what she told me. She told me she was eaten up with unused power and thought she might be a witch - except, she said, if she were a man, these things she thought about would be ordinarily acceptable.”

“And Dani..." Ryker looked down at me and his eyes softened. "You're shaking." I was shaking. I hadn't used a spell in a fight before; actually, I hadn't used a spell successfully, ever. Solisarius, a burst of blinding sunlight. It was one of the things I'd studied when I'd found my old book in the hopes that it would hurt the vampires. But conjured light is no substitute for the real thing. "I did magic." The tremor in my voice betrayed me. "You did." Ryker leaned down to me closer to eye level as he wrapped an arm around me. I looked down at my hands, which still trembled from the magic. Was this what Mom felt? Did she like it? Was the rush of using her powers enough to keep her coming back for more?”

“The house was squashed like a mushroom by a thatched roof that hung far out over the walls. A pair of windows sparkled on either side of a rounded, heavy wooden door. There was nothing particularly creepy or witch-ish about it at all, except for maybe some leeks that grew on the roof around the higgledy-piggledy chimney (out of which wafted a lovely, homey-smelling smoke). Next to the cottage was a small fenced-in kitchen garden, and even in the low light Rapunzel could see it wasn't given over just to herbs and vegetables. Tall rockets of flowers and pretty, feathery foliage shot colorfully out of the corners. There was even a neat flagstone path that led up to the front door. "Witch?" Flynn asked, skeptical. "Or, like... crunchy earth mother type who drinks herbal teas and pretends the goddess speaks to her?”

“A flower doesn’t boom through being pried open through force, likewise, psychic receptivity cannot be achieved through strain. Psychic receptivity comes with a state of mental passivity while simultaneously staying focused and open. We open ourselves up through relaxation. We want a focused flow, not force.”

“Seven days and seven nights; Isendjan! Isendjan! Seven ways to make it right; Isendjan! Isendjan! Pray and Pilgrimage and Rest, all of these a small request. Keep your shoes beneath your bed. Rejoice! But do not cover your head, Else will Babaroga hap To snatch your boots and bald your cap! Beware, beware, the Witch of Old. Forget not what has been foretold of Isendjan! Isendjan! Seven nights and seven days of Isendjan! Isendjan! The Mirror, the Hag, away aways!”

“Deep in the desert, o’er painted rock hill, Once was an ocean aplenty until The Devourer emerged, the water was scourged. What should never have emptied nevermore would fill. Deep in the desert, ‘neath painted rock hill, The thwarted one waits for the levee to fill. The witch drank it dries, the crow stole her eyes, so she usurped its body and took to the skies. Deep in the desert o’er painted rock hill, The crow hag thirsts when the stormclouds refill. The crow drinks them dry, the hag tarries by, but not a drop descends from the grey desert sky. Deep in the desert ‘neath painted rock hill, The crow plots its descent into the anthill. The ants–unawares–have forgotten their prayers. The Devourer remembers and hungers still.”

“Ronan shifted in the saddle, wishing for the thousandth time his heritage had been different. What would life have been like if he hadna been cursed whilst still in the womb? A great deal shorter. His bitter laugh misted in the cooling air of the early evening wood. Born in A.D. 900, the curse had accompanied him through three centuries searching for the one prophesied to set him free... The royal line would die out until the day the young wolf cub discovered how to shift into the form of a man and find the woman possessing three specific qualities: lightness of step, a soothing touch, and sight for the unseen.”

“A naked woman sat sunning herself on a nearby rock like a mermaid. Beads of water sparkled like diamonds on her slicked-back hair and bronze skin. A row of pearls appeared when she grinned. Brigid briefly wondered if women like this were the inspiration of seafaring folks' legends. "Harriet?" Brigid asked, though she recognized the woman immediately. There was no one on the Island--- no one anywhere--- who looked anything like her. "I like to swim in the buff. Hope you don't mind." "Not at all," Brigid said. Harriet's nudity seemed so natural that Brigid had barely taken note. She looked back out at the sound. "I saw a whale out there a few nights ago." "I saw one this morning," Harriet told her. "She's a friend of mine. I've known her for years." Brigid stared off across the endless expanse and imagined the whale out there, keeping watch beneath the waves.”

“You will experience the triple Goddess—Maiden, Mother, and Crone. These phases are symbolic to, not just your own life, but life as a whole. Birth, life, and death. As women, it is important to understand you are the cycle.”

“There's this myth that everyone who loves or connects with the earth lives on a farm or in the middle of the woods but that isn't true. Anyone can develop a relationship with the earth, no matter what part of it they currently happen to be standing on.”

“Paradox is at the heart of the mysteries of witchcraft. I believe that paradox is what allows the conditions for the witch to create magick. By creating a paradox, we essentially overload the processing of reality by breaking the rules. In a way, we’re jamming the system like throwing a wrench into the cogs, where we can then enter in our own codes for when we’re done and the system and its processes of reality resume.”

“Rev. David Wilkerson Warned that Former Witches Have Infiltrated Many Christian Churches: David Wilkerson exposed the current efforts of false teachers to infiltrate Christianity. Rev. Wilkerson was the pastor at Times Square Church in New York City, where he founded Teen Challenge, an addiction recovery program. He wrote, The Cross and the Switchblade, and he served as an evangelist for over 50 years (1). Throughout his ministry, Rev. Wilkerson preached against apostasy, including dominionism and the teaching that there is no literal return of Jesus (2). Shortly before his death, he stated that several former witches warned him that occultists were infiltrating the Church. They said witches are penetrating congregations and masquerading as super-spiritual Christians (3). Today, it is difficult to find a Christian Church that has not been transformed by this occult revival. References: 1. Wilkerson, David. The Cross and the Switchblade. Jove Publications. 1962. 2. Wilkerson, David, Rev. “Witchcraft in the Church.” Believers Web.org, 3. IBID.”

“But we have no [Marian] apparitions cautioning the Church against, say, accepting the delusion of an Earth-centered Universe, or warning it of complicity with Nazi Germany — two matters of considerable moral as well as historical import.... Not a single saint criticized the practice of torturing and burning “witches” and heretics. Why not? Were they unaware of what was going on? Could they not grasp its evil? And why is [the Virgin] Mary always admonishing the poor peasant to inform the authorities? Why doesn’t she admonish the authorities herself? Or the King? Or the Pope?”

“Some days I even think, Maybe being a witch isn’t so bad. When they were burned at the stake it was for being independent and strong-minded, for knowing how to cure illnesses with herbs, for hiking around in the woods to collect said herbs, and for being sexually uninhibited.”