Kindle Notes & Highlights
Wrapping my shawl tightly about me, I scrambled up the bog towards Thunderstorm Crag, our secret meeting point.
She was shuffling, the sound like bird’s feathers flapping in the wind.
A thrill passed through me as the moon began to rise above the trees. I imagined its silvery blood flowing in my veins.
This card is magic, I am sure. I do not want to share it with anyone,
The hooded crow swooped down and landed on one of the roots of the fairy tree, tucking black wings tight to her grey body, black head and chest gleaming in the last rays of sunlight.
When she tries to sense her own future, it is more ephemeral, shifting and hazy as the early morning mist rolling over the monastery from the sea.
In the glowing light of the candles and the flickering flames of the kitchen fires,
She once told me that hares were symbols of good fortune and should be respected as such.
White frills of ocean scattered upon black jagged rocks, as the waves roared upon the shore. Two small rocky islands emerged out of the sea,
Seagulls were dancing on the wind, and the sea breeze swept through me, so that I had to hold my cap down with my hand.
He would not be like her stepfather and marry her off. The Great Etteilla would never take ownership of a woman’s life as all other men seem to, whether they are the peddler husbands of the oyster girls on the streets of Le Marais or the printers in Saint-Germain-des-Prés or the noblemen’s wives and mistresses in their gilded cages upon the rue du Bac.
sophisticated simplicity.
the grand buildings with their gentle air of wealth and privilege.
closed my eyes, letting the water wash away all the fears of the past weeks.
the air is filled with the scent of wet cloth and herbs.
The ocean crashed onto the land, carving out cliffs as if it were eating the island away.
Someone is holding a lamp, and all around is the thick dark of the country, although she can hear the sea again.
This is why people come to see us. They want to understand the mysteries of their lives, and we can provide a little illumination.’
I want to be back in Kerry, standing upon a mountain, looking far out to sea, with the sweet clean air upon my lips, soft rain gracing my brow, and the sky filled with clouds, shades of blue and grey.
views of the sea are replaced by mountains and lakes, fringed by forest. The rain lightens, and as she looks up at the sky, the scald-crow flies above.
The best domicile for Lenormand is in the city of Paris, where she can lock doors and build a fortress out of wealth. In the countryside, there is no such shelter, and she is exposed – easily taken.
She looks out of the inn window at the risen sun, the golden light enriching the landscape with majesty, the greens of its fields lusher, the rise of its mountains higher. After a quick breakfast of oats and buttermilk, her carriage is made ready, and she sets off again. Lenormand is unable to tear her eyes away from the unfolding of the rolling hills and valleys, with lakes perfectly reflecting the blue sky and white clouds. It is the second day of September; she feels the transition to autumn in a way she would never notice in Paris. Leaves are beginning to fall off the trees; the
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