A Secret History Of Witches Quotes
"Whipping only made him rebellious." - Nanette on training her pony.
"I would die for you, Daughter." - Nanette to her infant daughter.
"People take notions." - Nanette explaining why they were not liked by the people.
"For once, just do as you're told, Ursule." - Nanette warning her daughter about Father Maddock.
"I'm just out of sorts. It's hard to catch my breath." - Nanette during her pregnancy.
"That spell is not in the grimoire!" - A surprised observation during a magical ritual.
"They would never, ever consider her a suitable bride for one of their sons." - On Nanette's relationship with the villagers.
"It’s a job of work to do on your own, Nanette. No choice about it." - Fleurette on childbirth.
"I think they wish they were still in France, sweetheart. None of them—not Louisette or any of them, including the uncles—wanted to leave." - Nanette on her family's reluctance to leave France.
"He watched me all day, even when I was chatting with my friend Meegan." - Nanette on being observed by the priest.
"I’m terribly tired. Perhaps I will go back to bed, if you will forgive me."
"If you practice the craft, you will pay a price."
"The stories we told you are true, Ursule."
"It’s pretense. Making things up because you want to believe them."
"This was not her imagination. This was not a fantasy. Her spine thrummed with it, the power of magic rushing through her bones from her toes to her skull."
"She was as hardheaded a woman as any she knew, and more practical than most."
"Everything looked different. The work of Orchard Farm, the calls of her stock, the knowing look on her mother’s face, all these things acquired significance beyond the mundane."
"Pragmatic, practical Ursule was shaken to her toes by the utterly unfamiliar feeling of infatuation."
"I wish I could go with him when he travels."
"Her heart knew him. Her power flared in his presence."
"She knew what he was asking. She knew what she was doing."
"What did it all mean? she wondered. And what would happen next?"
"It’s not like you to be slow, Morwen! Why do you think Ynyr has always known your thoughts? You’re a witch. A witch. Like your maman. Like your grand-mère. Like all the women in the Orchiére line, evidently, unfortunate though that is."
"You must never tell anyone," Irene said tightly. "Not Jago. Not Father Pugh."
"She has never mentioned me, then," the crone said. Her smile faded, and her eyelids lowered. "You have no idea about your grand-mère."
"You’re right, Irène. It won’t last long."
"I rather like a man to be afraid of me. It’s my reward for keeping the craft alive."
"Women must never argue, never cause scenes, never feel."
"To be grateful, Morwen," Lady Irene said. "Not everyone could see that, but you have the gift, for better or worse. Your gift is what brought you Ynyr. You might as well be glad."
"The walls were not papered, but painted a delicate ivory."
"Morwen forgot her mission—indeed, forgot about the passage of time—as she stood gazing at the painting."
"A girl in a scarlet robe held a glowing crystal ball in her two hands."
"The same way, it occurred to her now, she had been called to the ruined castle, where an old woman said, 'I wanted to see you.'"
"She listened, not with her ears, but with her heart."
"In the shadows of the yellow boughs, the old stone shone with a light like the setting sun."
"The lowering sun didn’t reach inside the walls."
"The crystal, which she had retrieved from the willow grove, felt heavy and lifeless under her arm."
"Ynyr, her beautiful silver stallion, stood with his head high, his mane lifting in a breeze."
"She couldn’t change the way she was, could she, Ynyr? I could forgive her not loving me, even forgive her for what she did to Jago. But she tried to send you away—when she knows what it is to lose your spirit familiar—and that I will never forgive."
"I would have done anything, anything! Rather than lose you."
"Mother Goddess, hear my prayer: No sorrow for my child to bear. Take pity on one so young and fair. Heal the man who is in her care."
"I’ll go to her," he said. "I’m the one who can. No one has any complaint against me. Not any longer."
"You love him, young Dafydd? Yes. Very much."
"Upset me! Dafydd, after the year I’ve had, I’m not sure you can say anything that will upset me!"
"She was beautiful. Mysterious. Had a sort of power around her, aside from—"
"Terrible things happen, but we must carry on. There's always work to be done."
"It's a crazy thing to suggest. Why? Everyone’s doing it!"
"We have to find something to hope for, don’t we?"
"Knowledge, though, isn't always a blessing."
"It's part of who we are, I'm afraid. You mustn't repress such things. They're part of the gift."
"We're quite careful about rationing here at the palace, but we do indulge in a little bit of sugar. Please take some."
"You've served gallantly, my dear. The king and I are grateful."
"She’s working night and day trying to feed the men, the staff, and us."
"This is something I couldn't write in a letter."
"The face Veronica saw was subtly different. It was better than beautiful. It was a face of character."
"Morwen’s smile was one no painter could ever replicate. It was full of love, full of mystery, the tender expression of a mother for her child."
"All anxiety about her upcoming mission fell away. Whatever was to come in the next days and weeks, Veronica’s prayer had been answered. She had a future, and there was a child in it."
"The American girl shuddered. 'I can’t look at the pictures,' she said. 'I see enough here without putting those horrors into my mind.'"
"Yet she knew him. She knew him as her heart’s companion. He was the one chosen for her. Sent to her. Saved for her."
"We are alive,' he said in careful English. 'We must be glad.'"
"He was terrified, too, that when she saw him, she might not know him. It had been more than four years."
"The only sign that Valéry still thought about his family and his old home was his perusal of the French newspaper he had delivered each morning."
"I saw Dr. Mountjoy this morning,' Veronica said. 'He says that there is something wrong with me. That I probably won’t ever conceive.'"
"Love of family, of friends, of country, of her queen, of her house and her husband—these were what mattered."
Nothing else matters," Morwen told her. "You have the greatest gift already. Love him. Let him love you.
"At the very least, my dear love, it will be great fun."