Quotes About Castle

Quotes tagged as "castle" (showing 1-30 of 65)
Franz Kafka
“Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.”
Franz Kafka

“Rocks in my path? I keep them all. With them I shall build my castle.”
Nemo Nox

Diana Wynne Jones
“She was remorseless, but she lacked method.”
Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle

Mervyn Peake
“This tower, patched unevenly with black ivy, arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heaven. At night the owls made of it an echoing throat; by day it stood voiceless and cast its long shadow.”
Mervyn Peake, Titus Groan

Tahereh Mafi
“Ah, Ms. Ferrars. I don't know what you hope to accomplish by sitting in the corner.”
Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

Pat Frayne
“Favorite Quotations.
I speak my mind because it hurts to bite my tongue.
The worth of a book is measured by what you carry away from it.
It's not over till it's over.
Imagination is everything.
All life is an experiment.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls the butterfly.”
Pat Frayne, Tales of Topaz the Conjure Cat: Part I Topaz and the Evil Wizard & Part II Topaz and the Plum-Gista Stone

Charlotte Eriksson
“You’re thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it slip
let it go
say ”I give up” one last time and give him a sad smile.
You’re thinking
it shouldn’t be this hard,
shouldn’t be this dark,
thinking
love could flow easily with no holding back
and you’ve seen others find their match and build something great
together,
of each other,
like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great things
one by one, always together, and it seems grand.
But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest you couldn’t live without because it fits in there. Makes you who you are and the thought of him gone—no more—makes your chest tighten up and
maybe this is your fairytale. Maybe this is your castle.

You could get it all on a shiny piece of glass with wooden stools and a neverending blooming garden
but that’s not yours. This is yours. The cracks and the faults,
the ugly words in the winter
walking home alone and angry
but falling asleep thinking you love him.
This is your fairy tale.
The quiet in the hallway, wishing for him to turn around, tell you to stay, tell you to please don’t go I need you
like you need me
and maybe it’s not a Jane Austen novel but this is your novel and
your castle
and you can run from it your whole life but this is here
in front of you.
Maybe nurture it?
Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an hour
or two.
This is your fairy.
It ain’t perfect and it ain’t honey sweet with roses on the bed.
It’s real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love.
Don’t throw it away searching for someone else’s love. Don’t be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go.
Be someone’s someone for someone.
Be that someone for him.

That’s your fairy tale. This is your castle.
Now move in. Build a home. Build a house. Build a safety around things you love.
It’s yours if you make it so.

Welcome home, sweet girl, it will be all be fine.”
Charlotte Eriksson

Sherry Thomas
“The Castle. He’d seen this expression far too many times during their marriage. The Castle was Bryony drawing up the gates and retreating deep into the inner keep. And he’d always hated it. Marriage meant that you shared your goddamn castle. You didn’t leave your poor knight of a husband circling the walls trying to find a way in.”
Sherry Thomas, Not Quite a Husband

Meagan Spooner
“None of this was what held Yeva's gaze. Because in the bottom of the valley, straddling the river nestled in the foothills, was a castle.”
Meagan Spooner, Hunted

Merrie Haskell
“I’m alive,” he groaned. “But I’m not doing a very good job of it.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

“and the castle in which she dwelt was a prison to her; and sometimes sudden fits of gusty passion would overtake her, for weariness grew to hate, and hate to wrath,

"The Serpent's Head”
Lady Dilke

Jonathan  Dunne
“Seeing his daughter slowly die, coupled with his infinite sadness and misery, the clockmaker becomes a recluse to the tower of the castle and begins to build something behind closed doors, not even his daughter knows what he’s up to. For five years, she only sees him briefly at meal-times before locking himself up in the tower once again..."

"...Did he have a bathroom in the tower?"

"Yes, Jack. A big one! En-suite! Power-shower and spa! Where was I!?”
Jonathan Dunne, Hearts Anonymous

The shrine I prayed at not to go to university,” Sand said. “I guess your
“The shrine I prayed at not to go to university,” Sand said.
“I guess your prayer was answered,” Perrotte said.
Sand strongly considered throwing something at her—but there was nothing to hand that wasn’t sacred.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“Saint Melor’s father was Saint Meliau.”
“Was everyone in Bertaèyn a saint, back in the day?”
“Everyone who didn’t murder anyone, maybe,” Perrotte said.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Lisa Carlisle
“It was time to take what he wanted. And what he wanted was her.”
Lisa Carlisle, Darkness Rising

Merrie Haskell
“Are you suggesting we eat cursed fruit? Vicious fruit? Attacking fruit?”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“A falcon. I can see that. I thought you said nothing lived here?”
Sand’s face went blank. “There was nothing alive, except for me, until Merlin. And then you.”
Perrotte bit back her exasperation, and said simply, “Go on.”
He twined his blunt-tipped fingers together, staring down at them. “I, erm. I found the falcon in the mews.” “So, it’s not true that there was nothing alive in the castle?”
“The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow.
“The falcon was dead!” Sand blurted out. “Stuffed and mounted, and then also damaged in the sundering. I mended him, and put him on the mantel, so I’d have something to talk to. But a couple days before you—you came upstairs—” He gestured helplessly at the bird, who stopped stripping water from its feathers just long enough to glare at the humans. Perrotte stared. “The bird came to life,” she whispered. “After you put it to rights, this falcon came to life. Just like me.”
“Well . . .”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“How did you get into the castle, Alexandre, son of Gilles Smith?”
Sand shrugged. “A saint kidnapped me from his shrine and put me into a fireplace here. So I guess the answer is, a miracle of Saint Melor. Or so I think. He has not told me.”
“If you are trying to antagonize him, you are doing a good job,” Perrotte whispered.
Sand scuffed his shoe at her. “I’m just telling the truth!”
“You’re very good at telling it in the most maddening way possible.”
“Thank you?”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“And turnips - endless ruptured turnips.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“The magical force that had sundered everything in the castle had occasionally made some very odd choices in its destruction—Sand found a hammer that had been broken only at the wooden handle and not any of the metal parts, and another hammer whose handle was whole while the metal was broken.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“Perrotte frowned. “I’d like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,” she said. “I’d cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through—” She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. “What? You don’t like bloodthirstiness?” she asked. “Pardon? No. I’m horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

Merrie Haskell
“You’re not mending anything, remember, Sand? The hedge.” He paused and shook his head at himself. “And Perrotte’s away for a few minutes, and you’re talking to yourself again.”
Merrie Haskell, The Castle Behind Thorns

“for us theres no victory there are only battles”
Kate Beckett
tags: castle

Steven Magee
“The fraudulent electrical utility company in conjunction with the corrupt sheriff taught me that an Englishman's home is not his castle”
Steven Magee

Deyth Banger
“Off.. offf leave the game in my hands if I am going to lose I wanna lose without special help, what you are saying is crap... castle, castle, castle in chess is important... fuck off that guy won without even castling.”
Deyth Banger

Horace Walpole
“I come," replied he, "to thee, Manfred, usurper of the principality of Otranto, from the renowned and invincible Knight, the Knight of the Gigantic Sabre: in the name of his Lord, Frederic, Marquis of Vicenza, he demands the Lady Isabella, daughter of that Prince, whom thou hast basely and traitorously got into thy power, by bribing her false guardians during his absence; and he requires thee to resign the principality of Otranto, which thou hast usurped from the said Lord Frederic, the nearest of blood to the last rightful Lord, Alfonso the Good. If thou dost not instantly comply with these just demands, he defies thee to single combat to the last extremity.”
Horace Walpole, The Castle of Otranto

Deyth Banger
“Castle series are great, even James Patterson is out there!”
Deyth Banger

“The castle is situated at the terminus of a long and upward-winding mountain road. It presents a somewhat forbidding aspect to the world, for there is little about it to suggest gaiety or warmth or any of those qualities that might assure a wayfarer of welcome. Rather, this vast edifice of stone exudes an austerity, cold and repellent, a hint of ancient mysteries long buried, an effluvium of medieval dankness and decay. At night, and most particularly on nights when the moon is slim or cloud-enshrouded, it is a heavy blot upon the horizon, a shadow only, without feature save for its many-turreted outline; and should the moon be temporarily released from her cloudy confinement, her fugitive rays lend scant comfort, for they but serve to throw the castle into sudden, startling chiaroscuro, its windows fleetingly assuming the appearance of sightless though all-seeing orbs, its portcullis becoming for an instant a gaping mouth, its entire form striking the physical and the mental eye as would the sight of a giant skull.”
Ray Russell, Haunted Castles

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