The Age of Witches Quotes

“Thick boughs of white oak shaded the ground, sheltering riches of sage, red clover, sometimes mushrooms. Harriet breathed in the scents of the fecund earth as she crouched beside a patch of nettles to begin her morning's work.
It was a good day for her labors. She found a lovely bit of mugwort beside the nettles, and deeper in the woods she spotted burdock, which could be elusive. There was amaranth, too, the herb the shepherds called pigweed.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She had felt from the beginning that horses were easier to understand than people. They made their wishes clear. They bestowed their affection without conditions. They didn't love you for a time, then stop loving you for no apparent reason.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“The sun shone with all the gaiety and promise of early summer. The new green leaves glistened with it, and the apple and pear blossoms, just past their prime, drifted in the warm air like white butterflies, powdering the orchard floor with their bruised petals.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“I want to be what you are. To do what do you.'
'To be an herbalist?'
'To be a witch,' Annis declared.
'Just be certain you want that for the right reasons.'
'I want it because it will set me free,' Annis said.
Harriet answered, 'That is the best possible reason.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Frightened people are dangerous.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“There was nothing like the pain of loss to teach a person that time was an illusion.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She was only a woman, but she was a woman with abilities. Woe to the ignorant men who thought they could silence her with a noose! They would learn that her power, whatever its source, was stronger than their cruelty. That would be her revenge.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She touched the choker at her throat, a string of white pearls with a cream-colored stone in the center. A moonstone, Harriet realized, with layers of silver beneath its pearly surface. It was a jewel known to produce calm and balance. To emphasize feminine energy and wisdom.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“They reined in before an ancient beech tree. Its trunk and branches leaned inland, bent by many years of ocean breezes. Half-buried beneath a root that arched out of the ground was a rectangular slab of stone that didn't seem to fit the landscape. Annis pointed to it. "What is that stone doing there?"
"It's a menhir," the marquess said. At Annis's puzzled expression, he explained. "One of the standing stones---well, this one has fallen over, but there are several stone circles in Dorset. If there was once a circle here---a henge, it's called---it's gone now. The stones have probably been pressed into other uses, fences or walls. I expect this one was too large to move."
"I don't know what a henge is," Annis said. Intrigued, she swung down from her saddle and bent to put her hand on the cool, rough surface of the stone. "Have you touched it? It feels alive!"
He laughed and slid down to join her beside the stone. He laid his own hand on it, right beside hers, then shook his head. "It doesn't feel alive to me, I'm afraid. It just feels cold and rough and old. A henge is a stone circle, you know, from ancient times. A ceremonial circle, we think. No one knows exactly what it was for.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Still with her head out the window, she had spied a stone-fenced pasture beyond the gardens. Half a dozen glorious white horses grazed there, the faint dapples of their coats gleaming like silver coins in the sunshine. As she watched, a coal-gray foal galloped in a circle around its elders, tossing its head and flicking its tail.
"Such beautiful horses!" she called to the footman.
"Yes, miss. My lord's Andalusians."
"Indeed! I thought they must be!"
Suddenly she couldn't wait to escape the confines of the carriage. For a moment she felt like her usual self, thrumming with energy, avid to run through the gardens to the pasture, to lean across the stone fence to admire those horses.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Annis's ennui lightened, too, when she saw the matched pair of white horses in the traces of the Rosefield carriage. She thought they must be Andalusians, like the mare she had met in Regent's Park, though these were bigger, with heavier hindquarters, larger heads, and a more pronounced curve to the nose. They would have been bred to harness, she supposed. Their manes and tails were braided with gold ribbon, and the metal fittings on their tack sparkled. When they set out, she was delighted to feel their power and to note the steadiness of their gait.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“It was a heavier breed than the ones she had seen so far, handsome white mare with a short, muscular neck, wide shoulders, and a hawklike profile that implied strength and nobility. Her mane and tail were golden brown, and wavy, as if they had been braided and then brushed. Her gait was clean and crisp, and she bore her rider, a tall man with long legs, as if he weighted nothing at all.
Suddenly England was interesting. This mare would be perfect to cross with Black Satin, if the obstacle of the Atlantic Ocean could be overcome. She was sturdy. She appeared to have a level disposition, paying no attention to the other mounts who passed her or the rattle and bang of the occasional landau. She carried herself beautifully, with a nice balance between the set of her head and the movement of her hindquarters. She held her silken tail high, a sure sign of joy and pride.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“You could be a titled lady. You won't have to do a jot of work your whole life!"
"Not a jot of work?" She bit the words out, her temper frayed to a thread. "You mean, except breed?”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“At the very bottom of her jewel case, buried under other unworn pieces, she found a short string of pearls. The light in the room had begun to fade, so she carried the necklace to the window to see it better. She held it up to catch the sunset glow, letting the pearls dangle over her hand.
"Pretty," Velma said from behind her.
"They are, aren't they?" Annis let the smooth white gems slide between her fingers. There was a different stone in the middle, not a pearl. It was larger, shimmering white, with subtle layers of silver beneath its surface.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“The crest of Cherry Hill was a wonderful vantage point. To the west the lake gleamed sapphire blue in the May sunshine. To the east and south cherry blossoms blazed white against the green landscape.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Robbie said he never saw a horse take so easily to a rider, but Annis wasn't surprised. Bits always understood what she wanted, from a slow walk to a trot, from a canter to a gallop. He was as eager as she for their more daring rides, the ones they made when no one could see them. He loved to run, and they both loved jumping. He sailed effortlessly over fallen trees, mane and tail rippling. He popped over rows of shrubs as easily as a leaping deer, making Annis feel as if she could fly.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She had felt from the beginning that horses were easier to understand than people. They made their wishes clear. They bestowed their affection without conditions. They didn't love you for a time, then stop loving you for no apparent reason.
Annis knew Bits loved her. She sometimes thought the two of them must be connected by an invisible ribbon of emotion, one that drew her to the stables every day, to be in his presence, to savor the warmth of his big body, to breathe in the peppery scent of his hide, to bask in the trust shining in his eyes. Mounted on his back, she became one with his power and speed and beauty. No one scolded her while she was seated high in the saddle. No one nagged about her clothes or her hair or her manners. Riding Bits set her free.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“The first rays of the sun charmed curls of mist from the grass of Sheep Meadow, fairy clouds that sparkled silver against the green backdrop of the pasture. Harriet slowed her steps to take in the sight, savoring the slant of spring light and the emerald glow of new leaves before she crossed the meadow into the chilly shadows of the woods.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Witch should be a beautiful word, signifying wisdom and knowledge and discipline, but it isn’t used that way. It’s been made an insult, implying evil, causing fear. The word has been perverted. —Harriet Bishop, 1890”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She might not be a witch—indeed, she was not sure precisely what a witch was—but she was not nothing. She was only a woman, but she was a woman with abilities. Woe to the ignorant men who thought they could silence her with a noose! They would learn that her power, whatever its source, was stronger than their cruelty. That would be her revenge.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Love was its own kind of magic. It needed no help from witchcraft. It required only opportunity.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Forgive me for being blunt, Dora, but that’s nonsense. We are no less passionate than the men we love. The trouble is that when women love, they bear the greater burden. It has always been that way, I’m afraid.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Love was its own kind of magic. It needed no help from witchcraft.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Witch should be a beautiful word, signifying wisdom and knowledge and discipline, but it isn’t used that way. It’s been made an insult, implying evil, causing fear. The word has been perverted.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She said, “I’m seventeen, Papa. I’m well beyond having phases. You were seventeen, as I recall, when you started your first business. You sold tools, and you made a success of it.” “That was different,” he said. “I’m a man. You’re a girl. You need a husband, and it might as well be one with a title.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She was lost in the miasma of her own witchery.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“She was wearing a day dress of apple-green pique with leg-of-mutton sleeves. Her waist was cinched so tightly Annis wondered how she could breathe.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches

“Alexander had been gone twenty-five years, but the passing of the decades had not diminished her grief. There was nothing like the pain of loss to teach a person that time was an illusion.”
― Louisa Morgan, The Age of Witches