classes ::: Place, the Castle,
children :::
branches ::: castle

bookmarks: Instances - Definitions - Quotes - Chapters - Wordnet - Webgen


object:castle
class:Place
class:the Castle

see also :::

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now begins generated list of local instances, definitions, quotes, instances in chapters, wordnet info if available and instances among weblinks


OBJECT INSTANCES [1] - TOPICS - AUTHORS - BOOKS - CHAPTERS - CLASSES - SEE ALSO - SIMILAR TITLES

TOPICS
the_Castle
The_Castle_in_the_Sky
the_Castle_in_the_Sky
SEE ALSO


AUTH

BOOKS
books_(by_alpha)
DND_DM_Guide_5E
Faust
Infinite_Library
Life_without_Death
My_Burning_Heart
Process_and_Reality
Sex_Ecology_Spirituality
the_Book_of_God
The_Castle_of_Crossed_Destinies
The_Divine_Comedy
The_Interior_Castle_or_The_Mansions
The_Red_Book_-_Liber_Novus
The_Republic
The_Way_of_Perfection

IN CHAPTERS TITLE
1.01_-_Description_of_the_Castle
1.01_-_The_Castle
1.04_-_The_First_Circle,_Limbo__Virtuous_Pagans_and_the_Unbaptized._The_Four_Poets,_Homer,_Horace,_Ovid,_and_Lucan._The_Noble_Castle_of_Philosophy.
1.jk_-_Fragment_Of_The_Castle_Builder
1.pbs_-_Lines_Written_During_The_Castlereagh_Administration
1.ww_-_Address_To_Kilchurn_Castle,_Upon_Loch_Awe
1.ww_-_Bothwell_Castle
1.ww_-_Elegiac_Stanzas_Suggested_By_A_Picture_Of_Peele_Castle
1.ww_-_Memorials_Of_A_Tour_In_Scotland-_1803_XII._Sonnet_Composed_At_----_Castle
1.ww_-_Song_at_the_Feast_of_Brougham_Castle
1.ww_-_Stanzas_Written_In_My_Pocket_Copy_Of_Thomsons_Castle_Of_Indolence
1.ww_-_The_Horn_Of_Egremont_Castle
the_Castle

IN CHAPTERS CLASSNAME
the_Castle

IN CHAPTERS TEXT
0.00a_-_Introduction
0_1962-02-06
0_1963-07-13
0_1970-03-25
02.03_-_The_Shakespearean_Word
02.06_-_Boris_Pasternak
07.05_-_The_Finding_of_the_Soul
1.01_-_Archetypes_of_the_Collective_Unconscious
1.01_-_Description_of_the_Castle
1.01_-_the_Call_to_Adventure
1.01_-_The_Castle
1.01_-_The_Path_of_Later_On
1.02_-_BEFORE_THE_CITY-GATE
1.02_-_MAPS_OF_MEANING_-_THREE_LEVELS_OF_ANALYSIS
1.02_-_The_Human_Soul
1.02_-_The_Refusal_of_the_Call
1.03_-_The_Tale_of_the_Alchemist_Who_Sold_His_Soul
1.04_-_The_First_Circle,_Limbo__Virtuous_Pagans_and_the_Unbaptized._The_Four_Poets,_Homer,_Horace,_Ovid,_and_Lucan._The_Noble_Castle_of_Philosophy.
1.05_-_THE_HOSTILE_BROTHERS_-_ARCHETYPES_OF_RESPONSE_TO_THE_UNKNOWN
1.077_-_The_Unleashed
1.07_-_The_Farther_Reaches_of_Human_Nature
1.08_-_EVENING_A_SMALL,_NEATLY_KEPT_CHAMBER
1.08_-_The_Depths_of_the_Divine
1.10_-_Relics_of_Tree_Worship_in_Modern_Europe
1.14_-_The_Structure_and_Dynamics_of_the_Self
1.15_-_Index
1.18_-_The_Eighth_Circle,_Malebolge__The_Fraudulent_and_the_Malicious._The_First_Bolgia__Seducers_and_Panders._Venedico_Caccianimico._Jason._The_Second_Bolgia__Flatterers._Allessio_Interminelli._Thais.
1.22_-_Ciampolo,_Friar_Gomita,_and_Michael_Zanche._The_Malabranche_quarrel.
1.28_-_Describes_the_nature_of_the_Prayer_of_Recollection_and_sets_down_some_of_the_means_by_which_we_can_make_it_a_habit.
1.28_-_Need_to_Define_God,_Self,_etc.
1.28_-_The_Killing_of_the_Tree-Spirit
1.29_-_What_is_Certainty?
1.33_-_Count_Ugolino_and_the_Archbishop_Ruggieri._The_Death_of_Count_Ugolino's_Sons.
1.40_-_Describes_how,_by_striving_always_to_walk_in_the_love_and_fear_of_God,_we_shall_travel_safely_amid_all_these_temptations.
1.56_-_The_Public_Expulsion_of_Evils
1.62_-_The_Fire-Festivals_of_Europe
1.66_-_The_External_Soul_in_Folk-Tales
1.67_-_The_External_Soul_in_Folk-Custom
1.70_-_Morality_1
1.79_-_Progress
1953-11-25
1f.lovecraft_-_At_the_Mountains_of_Madness
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Alchemist
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Case_of_Charles_Dexter_Ward
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Curse_of_Yig
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Descendant
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Disinterment
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Dream-Quest_of_Unknown_Kadath
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Moon-Bog
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Other_Gods
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Picture_in_the_House
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Rats_in_the_Walls
1f.lovecraft_-_The_White_Ship
1.fs_-_Feast_Of_Victory
1.fs_-_The_Invincible_Armada
1.fs_-_The_Knight_Of_Toggenburg
1.jk_-_Calidore_-_A_Fragment
1.jk_-_Epistle_To_John_Hamilton_Reynolds
1.jk_-_Fragment_Of_The_Castle_Builder
1.jk_-_Lines_Written_In_The_Highlands_After_A_Visit_To_Burnss_Country
1.jk_-_Ode_On_Indolence
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_I
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_II
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_III
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_IV
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_V
1.jk_-_The_Cap_And_Bells;_Or,_The_Jealousies_-_A_Faery_Tale_.._Unfinished
1.jlb_-_Chess
1.lb_-_Exile's_Letter
1.lb_-_His_Dream_Of_Skyland
1.lb_-_Lament_of_the_Frontier_Guard
1.lovecraft_-_An_American_To_Mother_England
1.lovecraft_-_Psychopompos-_A_Tale_in_Rhyme
1.lovecraft_-_To_Edward_John_Moreton_Drax_Plunkelt,
1.pbs_-_Charles_The_First
1.pbs_-_Ghasta_Or,_The_Avenging_Demon!!!
1.pbs_-_Hellas_-_A_Lyrical_Drama
1.pbs_-_Julian_and_Maddalo_-_A_Conversation
1.pbs_-_Lines_Written_During_The_Castlereagh_Administration
1.pbs_-_Oedipus_Tyrannus_or_Swellfoot_The_Tyrant
1.pbs_-_Peter_Bell_The_Third
1.pbs_-_Prince_Athanase
1.pbs_-_Queen_Mab_-_Part_IV.
1.pbs_-_The_Cenci_-_A_Tragedy_In_Five_Acts
1.pbs_-_The_Devils_Walk._A_Ballad
1.pbs_-_The_Mask_Of_Anarchy
1.pbs_-_To_Mary_-
1.pbs_-_To_The_Republicans_Of_North_America
1.pbs_-_Wine_Of_The_Fairies
1.poe_-_Eureka_-_A_Prose_Poem
1.rb_-_Aix_In_Provence
1.rb_-_A_Lovers_Quarrel
1.rb_-_De_Gustibus
1.rb_-_Garden_Francies
1.rb_-_Nationality_In_Drinks
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_First
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Fourth
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Second
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Sixth
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Third
1.rb_-_The_Flight_Of_The_Duchess
1.rwe_-_Tact
1.rwe_-_Threnody
1.rwe_-_Voluntaries
1.wby_-_In_Memory_Of_Major_Robert_Gregory
1.wby_-_The_Phases_Of_The_Moon
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_The_Broad-Axe
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_The_Exposition
1.whitman_-_The_Mystic_Trumpeter
1.whitman_-_Washingtons_Monument,_February,_1885
1.ww_-_4-_The_White_Doe_Of_Rylstone,_Or,_The_Fate_Of_The_Nortons
1.ww_-_Address_To_Kilchurn_Castle,_Upon_Loch_Awe
1.ww_-_Book_Ninth_[Residence_in_France]
1.ww_-_Book_Sixth_[Cambridge_and_the_Alps]
1.ww_-_Book_Third_[Residence_at_Cambridge]
1.ww_-_Bothwell_Castle
1.ww_-_Elegiac_Stanzas_Suggested_By_A_Picture_Of_Peele_Castle
1.ww_-_Extempore_Effusion_upon_the_Death_of_James_Hogg
1.ww_-_Guilt_And_Sorrow,_Or,_Incidents_Upon_Salisbury_Plain
1.ww_-_Lament_Of_Mary_Queen_Of_Scots
1.ww_-_Memorials_Of_A_Tour_In_Scotland-_1803_XII._Sonnet_Composed_At_----_Castle
1.ww_-_Memorials_Of_A_Tour_In_Scotland-_1803_XII._Yarrow_Unvisited
1.ww_-_Song_at_the_Feast_of_Brougham_Castle
1.ww_-_Stanzas_Written_In_My_Pocket_Copy_Of_Thomsons_Castle_Of_Indolence
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_IX-_Book_Eighth-_The_Parsonage
1.ww_-_The_Highland_Broach
1.ww_-_The_Horn_Of_Egremont_Castle
1.ww_-_The_Idiot_Boy
1.ww_-_Yarrow_Revisited
1.ww_-_Yarrow_Unvisited
20.04_-_Act_II:_The_Play_on_Earth
2.01_-_THE_ARCANE_SUBSTANCE_AND_THE_POINT
2.01_-_The_Road_of_Trials
2.01_-_The_Tavern
2.01_-_War.
2.02_-_Meeting_With_the_Goddess
2.03_-_Karmayogin__A_Commentary_on_the_Isha_Upanishad
2.05_-_The_Tale_of_the_Vampires_Kingdom
2.06_-_Two_Tales_of_Seeking_and_Losing
2.07_-_I_Also_Try_to_Tell_My_Tale
2.08_-_Three_Tales_of_Madness_and_Destruction
2.12_-_ON_SELF-OVERCOMING
2.1.5.4_-_Arts
2.19_-_THE_SOOTHSAYER
30.06_-_The_Poet_and_The_Seer
30.11_-_Modern_Poetry
3.01_-_Fear_of_God
3.02_-_Aridity_in_Prayer
3.02_-_King_and_Queen
3.11_-_Spells
32.04_-_The_Human_Body
32.07_-_The_God_of_the_Scientist
33.17_-_Two_Great_Wars
3.6.01_-_Heraclitus
4.01_-_Sweetness_in_Prayer
4.02_-_Divine_Consolations.
4.03_-_Prayer_of_Quiet
4.04_-_Conclusion
5.4.01_-_Notes_on_Root-Sounds
5_-_The_Phenomenology_of_the_Spirit_in_Fairytales
6.08_-_Intellectual_Visions
6.09_-_Imaginary_Visions
6.0_-_Conscious,_Unconscious,_and_Individuation
Averroes_Search
BOOK_II._--_PART_III._ADDENDA._SCIENCE_AND_THE_SECRET_DOCTRINE_CONTRASTED
Book_of_Genesis
Book_of_Imaginary_Beings_(text)
BOOK_XXII._-_Of_the_eternal_happiness_of_the_saints,_the_resurrection_of_the_body,_and_the_miracles_of_the_early_Church
BS_1_-_Introduction_to_the_Idea_of_God
Chapter_III_-_WHEREIN_IS_RELATED_THE_DROLL_WAY_IN_WHICH_DON_QUIXOTE_HAD_HIMSELF_DUBBED_A_KNIGHT
Chapter_II_-_WHICH_TREATS_OF_THE_FIRST_SALLY_THE_INGENIOUS_DON_QUIXOTE_MADE_FROM_HOME
Chapter_I_-_WHICH_TREATS_OF_THE_CHARACTER_AND_PURSUITS_OF_THE_FAMOUS_GENTLEMAN_DON_QUIXOTE_OF_LA_MANCHA
Guru_Granth_Sahib_first_part
Kafka_and_His_Precursors
Liber_46_-_The_Key_of_the_Mysteries
Liber_71_-_The_Voice_of_the_Silence_-_The_Two_Paths_-_The_Seven_Portals
Maps_of_Meaning_text
Talks_With_Sri_Aurobindo_2
The_Act_of_Creation_text
The_Aleph
the_Castle
The_Dwellings_of_the_Philosophers
The_Gold_Bug
The_Pilgrims_Progress

PRIMARY CLASS

Place
the_Castle
SIMILAR TITLES
castle
the Castle
The Castle in the Sky
the Castle in the Sky
The Castle of Crossed Destinies
The Interior Castle
the Interior Castle
The Interior Castle or The Mansions

DEFINITIONS


TERMS STARTING WITH

castlebuilder ::: n. --> Fig.: one who builds castles in the air or forms visionary schemes.

castled ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Castle ::: a. --> Having a castle or castles; supporting a castle; as, a castled height or crag.
Fortified; turreted; as, castled walls.


castle-guard ::: n. --> The guard or defense of a castle.
A tax or imposition an a dwelling within a certain distance of a castle, for the purpose of maintaining watch and ward in it; castle-ward.
A feudal tenure, obliging the tenant to perform service within the realm, without limitation of time.


castle ::: lit. A large fortified building or group of buildings with thick walls, usually dominating the surrounding country. Fig. A stronghold, fortress.

castle ::: n. --> A fortified residence, especially that of a prince or nobleman; a fortress.
Any strong, imposing, and stately mansion.
A small tower, as on a ship, or an elephant&


castlery ::: n. --> The government of a castle.

castlet ::: n. --> A small castle.

castleward ::: n. --> Same as Castleguard.

Castle Books, n.d.

Castle of the Inferior Man: In mysticism, the allegorical name of the seven stages of the soul’s ascent toward the Divinity.


TERMS ANYWHERE

abrahadabra ::: Abrahadabra The occultist Aleister Crowley believed the word Abracadabra was associated with the Gnostic God Abraxas (see below). He altered the spelling to 'Abrahadabra' to achieve a specific value gematrically (418), when it first appeared in public in The Book of the Law, the central sacred text of Thelema. The number 418 equates to the number of his Holy Guardian Angel, Aiwass, and his castle Bolsekine.
   When the word is chanted, or when its letters are arranged in an inverted pyramid and worn around the neck as a talisman for nine days, it is reputed to possess a magical power which will ward off illness and cure fevers.


air-built ::: a. --> Erected in the air; having no solid foundation; chimerical; as, an air-built castle.

alcayde ::: n. --> A commander of a castle or fortress among the Spaniards, Portuguese, and Moors.
The warden, or keeper of a jail.
Same as Alcaid.


ancient ::: a. --> Old; that happened or existed in former times, usually at a great distance of time; belonging to times long past; specifically applied to the times before the fall of the Roman empire; -- opposed to modern; as, ancient authors, literature, history; ancient days.
Old; that has been of long duration; of long standing; of great age; as, an ancient forest; an ancient castle.
Known for a long time, or from early times; -- opposed to recent or new; as, the ancient continent.


antemural ::: n. --> An outwork of a strong, high wall, with turrets, in front of the gateway (as of an old castle), for defending the entrance.

antique ::: a. --> Old; ancient; of genuine antiquity; as, an antique statue. In this sense it usually refers to the flourishing ages of Greece and Rome.
Old, as respects the present age, or a modern period of time; of old fashion; antiquated; as, an antique robe.
Made in imitation of antiquity; as, the antique style of Thomson&


Arjuna "language" An {object-oriented programming} system developed by a team led by Professor Santosh Shrivastava at the {University of Newcastle}, implemented entirely in {C++}. Arjuna provides a set of tools for the construction of {fault-tolerant} {distributed} applications. It exploits features found in most object-oriented languages (such as {inheritance}) and only requires a limited set of system capabilities commonly found in conventional {operating systems}. Arjuna provides the programmer with {classes} that implement {atomic transactions}, {object level recovery}, {concurrency} control and {persistence}. The system is {portable}, modular and flexible; the system software has been available via FTP since 1992. {(http://arjuna.ncl.ac.uk/)}. (1995-03-06)

Arjuna ::: (language) An object-oriented programming system developed by a team led by Professor Santosh Shrivastava at the University of Newcastle, implemented level recovery, concurrency control and persistence. The system is portable, modular and flexible; the system software has been available via FTP since 1992. . (1995-03-06)

bailey ::: n. --> The outer wall of a feudal castle.
The space immediately within the outer wall of a castle or fortress.
A prison or court of justice; -- used in certain proper names; as, the Old Bailey in London; the New Bailey in Manchester.


bailiff ::: n. --> Originally, a person put in charge of something especially, a chief officer, magistrate, or keeper, as of a county, town, hundred, or castle; one to whom power/ of custody or care are intrusted.
A sheriff&


barbacan ::: n. --> See Barbican.
A tower or advanced work defending the entrance to a castle or city, as at a gate or bridge. It was often large and strong, having a ditch and drawbridge of its own.
An opening in the wall of a fortress, through which missiles were discharged upon an enemy.


base-court ::: n. --> The secondary, inferior, or rear courtyard of a large house; the outer court of a castle.
An inferior court of law, not of record.


bastile bastille ::: n. --> A tower or an elevated work, used for the defense, or in the siege, of a fortified place.
"The Bastille", formerly a castle or fortress in Paris, used as a prison, especially for political offenders; hence, a rhetorical name for a prison.


castlebuilder ::: n. --> Fig.: one who builds castles in the air or forms visionary schemes.

castled ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Castle ::: a. --> Having a castle or castles; supporting a castle; as, a castled height or crag.
Fortified; turreted; as, castled walls.


castle-guard ::: n. --> The guard or defense of a castle.
A tax or imposition an a dwelling within a certain distance of a castle, for the purpose of maintaining watch and ward in it; castle-ward.
A feudal tenure, obliging the tenant to perform service within the realm, without limitation of time.


castle ::: lit. A large fortified building or group of buildings with thick walls, usually dominating the surrounding country. Fig. A stronghold, fortress.

castle ::: n. --> A fortified residence, especially that of a prince or nobleman; a fortress.
Any strong, imposing, and stately mansion.
A small tower, as on a ship, or an elephant&


castlery ::: n. --> The government of a castle.

castlet ::: n. --> A small castle.

castleward ::: n. --> Same as Castleguard.

bluebeard ::: n. --> The hero of a mediaeval French nursery legend, who, leaving home, enjoined his young wife not to open a certain room in his castle. She entered it, and found the murdered bodies of his former wives. -- Also used adjectively of a subject which it is forbidden to investigate.

boyer ::: n. --> A Flemish sloop with a castle at each end.

breastwork ::: n. --> A defensive work of moderate height, hastily thrown up, of earth or other material.
A railing on the quarter-deck and forecastle.


burggrave ::: n. --> Originally, one appointed to the command of a burg (fortress or castle); but the title afterward became hereditary, with a domain attached.

burghbote ::: n. --> A contribution toward the building or repairing of castles or walls for the defense of a city or town.

bury ::: n. --> A borough; a manor; as, the Bury of St. Edmond&

capable ::: a. --> Possessing ability, qualification, or susceptibility; having capacity; of sufficient size or strength; as, a room capable of holding a large number; a castle capable of resisting a long assault.
Possessing adequate power; qualified; able; fully competent; as, a capable instructor; a capable judge; a mind capable of nice investigations.
Possessing legal power or capacity; as, a man capable of making a contract, or a will.


castellan ::: n. --> A governor or warden of a castle.

castellany ::: n. --> The lordship of a castle; the extent of land and jurisdiction appertaining to a castle.

castellated ::: a. --> Inclosed within a building; as, a fountain or cistern castellated.
Furnished with turrets and battlements, like a castle; built in the style of a castle.


castellation ::: n. --> The act of making into a castle.

Castle Books, n.d.

Castle of the Inferior Man: In mysticism, the allegorical name of the seven stages of the soul’s ascent toward the Divinity.

castling ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Castle ::: n. --> That which is cast or brought forth prematurely; an abortion.
A compound move of the king and castle. See Castle, v. i.


chaldron ::: n. --> An English dry measure, being, at London, 36 bushels heaped up, or its equivalent weight, and more than twice as much at Newcastle. Now used exclusively for coal and coke.

chateau ::: n. --> A castle or a fortress in France.
A manor house or residence of the lord of the manor; a gentleman&


chatelet ::: n. --> A little castle.

chess ::: n. --> A game played on a chessboard, by two persons, with two differently colored sets of men, sixteen in each set. Each player has a king, a queen, two bishops, two knights, two castles or rooks, and eight pawns.
A species of brome grass (Bromus secalinus) which is a troublesome weed in wheat fields, and is often erroneously regarded as degenerate or changed wheat; it bears a very slight resemblance to oats, and if reaped and ground up with wheat, so as to be used for


C++SIM A {class} library like the {simulation} class libraries of {SIMULA}, by Mark Little "M.C.Little@newcastle.ac.uk". Version: 1.0. {(ftp://arjuna.ncl.ac.uk/)}. (1993-06-04)

cubbridge-head ::: n. --> A bulkhead on the forecastle and half deck of a ship.

daydream ::: n. --> A vain fancy speculation; a reverie; a castle in the air; unfounded hope.

decadency ::: n. --> A falling away; decay; deterioration; declension. "The old castle, where the family lived in their decadence."

deep-waisted ::: a. --> Having a deep waist, as when, in a ship, the poop and forecastle are much elevated above the deck. html{color:

donjon ::: n. --> The chief tower, also called the keep; a massive tower in ancient castles, forming the strongest part of the fortifications. See Illust. of Castle.

drawbridge ::: n. --> A bridge of which either the whole or a part is made to be raised up, let down, or drawn or turned aside, to admit or hinder communication at pleasure, as before the gate of a town or castle, or over a navigable river or canal.

dungeon ::: n. --> A close, dark prison, common/, under ground, as if the lower apartments of the donjon or keep of a castle, these being used as prisons. ::: v. t. --> To shut up in a dungeon.

echauguette ::: n. --> A small chamber or place of protection for a sentinel, usually in the form of a projecting turret, or the like. See Castle.

enchanted ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Enchant ::: a. --> Under the power of enchantment; possessed or exercised by enchanters; as, an enchanted castle.

fastness ::: a. --> The state of being fast and firm; firmness; fixedness; security; faithfulness.
A fast place; a stronghold; a fortress or fort; a secure retreat; a castle; as, the enemy retired to their fastnesses in the mountains.
Conciseness of style.
The state of being fast or swift.


forecastle ::: n. --> A short upper deck forward, formerly raised like a castle, to command an enemy&

fortification ::: n. --> The act of fortifying; the art or science of fortifying places in order to defend them against an enemy.
That which fortifies; especially, a work or works erected to defend a place against attack; a fortified place; a fortress; a fort; a castle.


fortress ::: n. --> A fortified place; a large and permanent fortification, sometimes including a town; a fort; a castle; a stronghold; a place of defense or security. ::: v. t. --> To furnish with a fortress or with fortresses; to guard; to fortify.

frigate-built ::: a. --> Built like a frigate with a raised quarter-deck and forecastle.

Gothic literature: A genre of writing preoccupied with mysteries, murder, villainy and the supernatural, often set in desolate and ancient landscapes such as castles and churches. These can include novels, poetry or short stories.

gunwale ::: n. --> The upper edge of a vessel&

Gwydion (Welsh) The son of Don (Irish, Dana). There were two chief god-families: the Children of Don and the Children of Llyr. Gwydion might be equated with Hermes. His castle (Caer Gwydion) is the Milky Way, but also (like many of the stars and constellations) it was projected in Wales somewhere. An exactly similar projecting of celestial powers and functions into human life was at one time universal. One has to divine the functions of these gods from corresponding figures in other mythologies: in the Mabinogi they are all euhemerized into men.

hall ::: n. --> A building or room of considerable size and stateliness, used for public purposes; as, Westminster Hall, in London.
The chief room in a castle or manor house, and in early times the only public room, serving as the place of gathering for the lord&


halls ::: 1. Large rooms of palaces or castles. 2. Large rooms for gatherings and events.

incastellated ::: a. --> Confined or inclosed in a castle.

johannisberger ::: n. --> A fine white wine produced on the estate of Schloss (or Castle) Johannisberg, on the Rhine. html{color:

keeler ::: n. --> One employed in managing a Newcastle keel; -- called also keelman.
A small or shallow tub; esp., one used for holding materials for calking ships, or one used for washing dishes, etc.


kot [Hind.] ::: [castle, fort].

machicolation ::: n. --> An opening between the corbels which support a projecting parapet, or in the floor of a gallery or the roof of a portal, shooting or dropping missiles upen assailants attacking the base of the walls. Also, the construction of such defenses, in general, when of this character. See Illusts. of Battlement and Castle.
The act of discharging missiles or pouring burning or melted substances upon assailants through such apertures.


Manorajya: Building castles in the air; mental kingdom.

midshipman ::: n. --> Formerly, a kind of naval cadet, in a ship of war, whose business was to carry orders, messages, reports, etc., between the officers of the quarter-deck and those of the forecastle, and render other services as required.
In the English naval service, the second rank attained by a combatant officer after a term of service as naval cadet. Having served three and a half years in this rank, and passed an examination, he is eligible to promotion to the rank of lieutenant.


moat ::: n. --> A deep trench around the rampart of a castle or other fortified place, sometimes filled with water; a ditch. ::: v. t. --> To surround with a moat.

oubliette ::: n. --> A dungeon with an opening only at the top, found in some old castles and other strongholds, into which persons condemned to perpetual imprisonment, or to perish secretly, were thrust, or lured to fall.

peel ::: n. --> A small tower, fort, or castle; a keep.
A spadelike implement, variously used, as for removing loaves of bread from a baker&


PL/PROPHET ::: PL/I-like language for the PROPHET system, used by pharmacologists. The Implementation of the PROPHET System, P.A. Castleman et al, NCC 43, AFIPS (1974).

PL/PROPHET PL/I-like language for the PROPHET system, used by pharmacologists. "The Implementation of the PROPHET System", P.A. Castleman et al, NCC 43, AFIPS (1974).

postern ::: 1. A small rear gate, esp. one in a fort or castle; often as a way of escape. Also fig.

redcap ::: n. --> The European goldfinch.
A specter having long teeth, popularly supposed to haunt old castles in Scotland.


RiscPC ::: (computer) The final addition to Acorn's Archimedes family of personal computers, released in April 1994. The RiscPC allowed a second processor, e.g. an Intel 486 or a second ARM, to share the bus, memory and peripherals with the main processor. It also had full 24-bit colour graphics support.The Risc PC 600 (the first to be launched) had the new ARM600 processor and RISC OS 3.5. The RiscPC 700 had an ARM710 processor and RISC OS 3.6, and the SA had the StrongARM processor and RISC OS 3.7.Castle Technology Ltd later introduced the IYONIX pc with the 32-bit X-Scale processor and USB sockets. USB and StrongArm can also be retrofitted to earlier RiscPCs.RiscPCs are among the most energy efficient home computers. .(2004-09-21)

RiscPC "computer" The final addition to {Acorn}'s {Archimedes} family of {personal computers}, released in April 1994. The RiscPC allowed a second processor, e.g. an {Intel 486} or a second {ARM}, to share the {bus}, memory and {peripherals} with the main processor. It also had full 24-bit colour graphics support. The Risc PC 600 (the first to be launched) had the new {ARM600} processor and {RISC OS} 3.5. The RiscPC 700 had an {ARM710} processor and RISC OS 3.6, and the SA had the {StrongARM} processor and RISC OS 3.7. {Castle Technology Ltd} later introduced the {IYONIX pc} with the 32-bit {X-Scale} processor and {USB} sockets. USB and StrongArm can also be retrofitted to earlier RiscPCs. RiscPCs are among the most energy efficient home computers. {Acorn Computer Museum (http://pages.zoom.co.uk/acorn.computer/riscpc.html)}. (2004-09-21)

rook ::: n. --> Mist; fog. See Roke.
One of the four pieces placed on the corner squares of the board; a castle.
A European bird (Corvus frugilegus) resembling the crow, but smaller. It is black, with purple and violet reflections. The base of the beak and the region around it are covered with a rough, scabrous skin, which in old birds is whitish. It is gregarious in its habits. The name is also applied to related Asiatic species.


RUTH ::: D.A. Harrison at Newcastle University. Real-time language based on LispKit. Uses timestamps and real-time clocks.[RUTH: A Functional Language for Real-Time Programming, D. Harrison in PARLE: Parallel Architectures and Languages Europe, LNCS 259, Springer 1987, pp.297-314].

RUTH D.A. Harrison at Newcastle University. Real-time language based on LispKit. Uses timestamps and real-time clocks. ["RUTH: A Functional Language for Real-Time Programming", D. Harrison in PARLE: Parallel Architectures and Languages Europe, LNCS 259, Springer 1987, pp.297-314].

Split-C Parallel extension of {C} for distributed memory multiprocessors. Aims to provide efficient low-level access to the underlying machine. {CM5 (ftp://ftp.cs.berkeley.edu/ucb/CASTLE/Split-C)}. Mail-list: split-c@boing.cs.berkeley.edu.

starosty ::: n. --> A castle and domain conferred on a nobleman for life.

tanist ::: n. --> In Ireland, a lord or proprietor of a tract of land or of a castle, elected by a family, under the system of tanistry.

uncastle ::: v. t. --> To take a castle from; to turn out of a castle.

University of Durham ::: (body, education) A busy research and teaching community in the historic cathedral city of Durham, UK (population 61000). Its work covers key branches of a major employer, the University contributes in a wide social and economic sense to the community.Founded in 1832, the University developed in Durham and Newcastle until 1963 when the independent University of Newcastle upon Tyne came into being. Durham launched University College, Stockton-on-Tees, which has 190 students in the first year. . (1995-03-17)

University of Durham "body, education" A busy research and teaching community in the historic cathedral city of Durham, UK (population 61000). Its work covers key branches of science and technology and traditional areas of scholarship. Durham graduates are in great demand among employers and the University helps to attract investment into the region. It provides training, short courses, and expertise for industry. Through its cultural events, conferences, tourist business and as a major employer, the University contributes in a wide social and economic sense to the community. Founded in 1832, the University developed in Durham and Newcastle until 1963 when the independent University of Newcastle upon Tyne came into being. Durham is a collegiate body, with 14 Colleges or Societies which are a social and domestic focus for students. In 1992, the Universities of Durham and Teesside launched University College, Stockton-on-Tees, which has 190 students in the first year. {(http://dur.ac.uk/)}. (1995-03-17)

waistcloth ::: n. --> A cloth or wrapper worn about the waist; by extension, such a garment worn about the hips and passing between the thighs.
A covering of canvas or tarpaulin for the hammocks, stowed on the nettings, between the quarterdeck and the forecastle.


waist ::: n. --> That part of the human body which is immediately below the ribs or thorax; the small part of the body between the thorax and hips.
Hence, the middle part of other bodies; especially (Naut.), that part of a vessel&


ward ::: an open space within or between the walls of a castle or fortified place.

wich ::: n. --> A variant of 1st Wick.
A street; a village; a castle; a dwelling; a place of work, or exercise of authority; -- now obsolete except in composition; as, bailiwick, Warwick, Greenwick.
A narrow port or passage in the rink or course, flanked by the stones of previous players.


windlass ::: n. --> A winding and circuitous way; a roundabout course; a shift.
A machine for raising weights, consisting of a horizontal cylinder or roller moving on its axis, and turned by a crank, lever, or similar means, so as to wind up a rope or chain attached to the weight. In vessels the windlass is often used instead of the capstan for raising the anchor. It is usually set upon the forecastle, and is worked by hand or steam.




QUOTES [11 / 11 - 1500 / 1832]


KEYS (10k)

   3 Saint Teresa of Avila
   1 Shadowgate
   1 Nyoshul Khen Rinpoche
   1 Joseph Campbell
   1 JC
   1 Franz Kafka
   1 Chamtrul Rinpoche
   1 Sri Aurobindo
   1 Kobayashi Issa

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   94 Richard Castle
   38 J K Rowling
   26 Michael N Castle
   22 Anonymous
   20 Jayne Castle
   18 Mehmet Murat ildan
   15 Terry Pratchett
   13 C S Lewis
   13 Bram Stoker
   13 Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn
   11 Louisa May Alcott
   11 Kurt Vonnegut
   11 John Flanagan
   10 Markus Zusak
   9 Stephen King
   9 Nathan Fillion
   9 Keisha Castle Hughes
   8 T E Kinsey
   8 Bella Forrest
   8 Anne Lamott

1:Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one's own self.
   ~ Franz Kafka,
2:morning fog
the castle's shutters
suddenly opening
~ Kobayashi Issa, @BashoSociety
3:In the castle of the lotus twixt the brows
Whence it shoots the arrows of its sight and will ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Finding of the Soul,
4:Never underestimate the importance of keeping your vows. Just how a castle will protect the king from being attacked by the enemy, the vows will protect your mind from being attacked by your mental afflictions. ~ Chamtrul Rinpoche,
5:The sleeping castle is that ultimate abyss to which the descending consciousness submerges in dream, where the individual life is on the point of dissolving into undifferentiated energy: and it would be death to dissolve; yet death, also, to lack the fire. ~ JC, THWATF,
6:Now let us return to our beautiful and charming castle and discover how to enter it. This appears incongruous: if this castle is the soul, clearly no one can have to enter it, for it is the person himself: one might as well tell some one to go into a room he is already in! There are, however, very different ways of being in this castle; many souls live in the courtyard of the building where the sentinels stand, neither caring to enter farther, nor to know who dwells in that most delightful place, what is in it and what rooms it contains. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle,
7:The last thing that you remember is standing before the wizard Lakmir as he gestured wildly and chanted in an archaic tongue. Now you find yourself staring at an entryway which lies at the edge of a forest. The Druid's words still ring in your ears: "Within the walls of the Castle Shadowgate lies your quest. If the prophecies hold true, the dreaded Warlock Lord will use his dark magic to raise the Behemoth, the deadliest of the Titans, from the depths of the earth. You are the seed of prophecy, the last of the line of kings, and only you can stop the Warlock Lord from darkening our world FOREVER. Fare thee well. ~ Shadowgate,
8:8. Now let us turn at last to our castle with its many mansions. You must not think of a suite of rooms placed in succession, but fix your eyes on the keep, the court inhabited by the King.23' Like the kernel of the palmito,24' from which several rinds must be removed before coming to the eatable part, this principal chamber is surrounded by many others. However large, magnificent, and spacious you imagine this castle to be, you cannot exaggerate it; the capacity of the soul is beyond all our understanding, and the Sun within this palace enlightens every part of it. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle,
9:10.: I do not know whether I have put this clearly; self-knowledge is of such consequence that I would not have you careless of it, though you may be lifted to heaven in prayer, because while on earth nothing is more needful than humility. Therefore, I repeat, not only a good way, but the best of all ways, is to endeavour to enter first by the room where humility is practised, which is far better than at once rushing on to the others. This is the right road;-if we know how easy and safe it is to walk by it, why ask for wings with which to fly? Let us rather try to learn how to advance quickly. I believe we shall never learn to know ourselves except by endeavouring to know God, for, beholding His greatness we are struck by our own baseness, His purity shows our foulness, and by meditating on His humility we find how very far we are from being humble. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle, 1.02,
10:The mythological hero, setting forth from his common-day hut or castle, is lured, carried away, or else voluntarily proceeds, to the threshold of adventure. There he encounters a shadow presence that guards the passage. The hero may defeat or conciliate this power and go alive into the kingdom of the dark (brother-battle, dragon-battle; offering, charm), or be slain by the opponent and descend in death (dismemberment, crucifixion). Beyond the threshold, then, the hero journeys through a world of unfamiliar yet strangely intimate forces, some of which severely threaten him (tests), some of which give magical aid (helpers). When he arrives at the nadir of the mythological round, he undergoes a supreme ordeal and gains his reward. The triumph may be represented as the hero's sexual union with the goddess-mother of the world (sacred marriage), his recognition by the father-creator (father atonement), his own divinization (apotheosis), or again-if the powers have remained unfriendly to him-his theft of the boon he came to gain (bride-theft, fire-theft); intrinsically it is an expansion of consciousness and therewith of being (illumination, transfiguration, freedom). The final work is that of the return. If the powers have blessed the hero, he now sets forth under their protection (emissary); if not, he flees and is pursued (transformation flight, obstacle flight). At the return threshold the transcendental powers must remain behind; the hero re-emerges from the kingdom of dread (return, resurrection). The boon that he brings restores the world (elixir). ~ Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces, The Keys,
11:reading :::
   50 Spiritual Classics: List of Books Covered:
   Muhammad Asad - The Road To Mecca (1954)
   St Augustine - Confessions (400)
   Richard Bach - Jonathan Livingston Seagull (1970)
   Black Elk Black - Elk Speaks (1932)
   Richard Maurice Bucke - Cosmic Consciousness (1901)
   Fritjof Capra - The Tao of Physics (1976)
   Carlos Castaneda - Journey to Ixtlan (1972)
   GK Chesterton - St Francis of Assisi (1922)
   Pema Chodron - The Places That Scare You (2001)
   Chuang Tzu - The Book of Chuang Tzu (4th century BCE)
   Ram Dass - Be Here Now (1971)
   Epictetus - Enchiridion (1st century)
   Mohandas Gandhi - An Autobiography: The Story of My Experiments With Truth (1927)
   Al-Ghazzali - The Alchemy of Happiness (1097)
   Kahlil Gibran - The Prophet (1923)
   GI Gurdjieff - Meetings With Remarkable Men (1960)
   Dag Hammarskjold - Markings (1963)
   Abraham Joshua Heschel - The Sabbath (1951)
   Hermann Hesse - Siddartha (1922)
   Aldous Huxley - The Doors of Perception (1954)
   William James - The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902)
   Carl Gustav Jung - Memories, Dreams, Reflections (1955)
   Margery Kempe - The Book of Margery Kempe (1436)
   J Krishnamurti - Think On These Things (1964)
   CS Lewis - The Screwtape Letters (1942)
   Malcolm X - The Autobiography of Malcolm X (1964)
   Daniel C Matt - The Essential Kabbalah (1994)
   Dan Millman - The Way of the Peaceful Warrior (1989)
   W Somerset Maugham - The Razor's Edge (1944)
   Thich Nhat Hanh - The Miracle of Mindfulness (1975)
   Michael Newton - Journey of Souls (1994)
   John O'Donohue - Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom (1998)
   Robert M Pirsig - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (1974)
   James Redfield - The Celestine Prophecy (1994)
   Miguel Ruiz - The Four Agreements (1997)
   Helen Schucman & William Thetford - A Course in Miracles (1976)
   Idries Shah - The Way of the Sufi (1968)
   Starhawk - The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess (1979)
   Shunryu Suzuki - Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind (1970)
   Emanuel Swedenborg - Heaven and Hell (1758)
   Teresa of Avila - Interior Castle (1570)
   Mother Teresa - A Simple Path (1994)
   Eckhart Tolle - The Power of Now (1998)
   Chogyam Trungpa - Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism (1973)
   Neale Donald Walsch - Conversations With God (1998)
   Rick Warren - The Purpose-Driven Life (2002)
   Simone Weil - Waiting For God (1979)
   Ken Wilber - A Theory of Everything (2000)
   Paramahansa Yogananda - Autobiography of a Yogi (1974)
   Gary Zukav - The Seat of the Soul (1990)
   ~ Tom Butler-Bowdon, 50 Spirital Classics (2017 Edition),

*** WISDOM TROVE ***

1:My sorrow is my castle. ~ soren-kierkegaard, @wisdomtrove
2:A field of clay touched by the genius of man becomes a castle. ~ og-mandino, @wisdomtrove
3:My whinstone house my castle is, I have my own four walls. ~ thomas-carlyle, @wisdomtrove
4:This wasn't a garden,' said Susan presently. &
5:Some books seem like a key to unfamiliar rooms in one's own castle. ~ franz-kafka, @wisdomtrove
6:If you want to get to the castle, Groceries, you've got to swim the moat. ~ elizabeth-gilbert, @wisdomtrove
7:Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one's own self. ~ franz-kafka, @wisdomtrove
8:Self-taught, are you?" Julian Castle asked Newt. "Isn't everybody?" Newt inquired. "Very good answer. ~ kurt-vonnegut, @wisdomtrove
9:&
10:You can do more with a castle in a story than with the best cardboard castle that ever stood on a nursery table. ~ c-s-lewis, @wisdomtrove
11:History is a child building a sand-castle by the sea, and that child is the whole majesty of man's power in the world. ~ heraclitus, @wisdomtrove
12:Interior Castle by, (Ch. 3), translated by the Benedictines of Stanbrook (1921), revised and edited by Fr. Benedict Zimmerman, 1577. ~ teresa-of-avila, @wisdomtrove
13:Like a good chess player, Satan is always trying to maneuver you into a position where you can save your castle only by losing your bishop. ~ c-s-lewis, @wisdomtrove
14:Interior Castle by, (Ch. 2), as translated by the Benedictines of Stanbrook (1911), revised and edited by Fr. Benedict Zimmerman, 1577. ~ teresa-of-avila, @wisdomtrove
15:This is the land of Narnia,' said the Faun, &
16:Temptations are enemies outside the castle seeking entrance. If there be no false retainer within who holds treacherous parley, there can scarcely be even an offer. ~ henry-ward-beecher, @wisdomtrove
17:I thought of the soul as resembling a castle, formed of a single diamond or a very transparent crystal, and containing many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions. ~ teresa-of-avila, @wisdomtrove
18:One thing I learned, with permission of the school committee of Indianapolis, was that when a tyrant or a government gets in trouble it wonders what to do. Declare war! Then nothing else matters. It's like chess; when in doubt, castle. ~ kurt-vonnegut, @wisdomtrove
19:... . Anon from the castle walls The crescent banner falls, And the crowd beholds instead, Like a portent in the sky, Iskander's banner fly, The Black Eagle with double head. And shouts ascend on high ... .." Long live Scanderbeg. ~ henry-wadsworth-longfellow, @wisdomtrove
20:Group Meditation is a castle that protects the new spiritual aspirants as well as the veteran meditators. Meditating together increases the degree of Self-realization of each member of the group by the law of invisible vibratory exchange of group magnetism. ~ paramahansa-yogananda, @wisdomtrove
21:When you understand the Laws, then you understand that it is not more difficult to create a castle than it is a button. They are equal. It is not more difficult to create $10 million than $100,000. It is the same application of the same Law to two different intentions. ~ esther-hicks, @wisdomtrove
22:Build your inner environment. Practice Silence! I remember the wonderful discipline of the Great Ones. When we used to talk and chatter, they would say: "Go back into your inner castle." It was very hard to comprehend then, but now I understand the way of peace ~ paramahansa-yogananda, @wisdomtrove
23:The castle of Cair Paravel on its little hill towered up above them; before them were the sands, with rocks and little pools of salt water, and seaweed, and the smell of the sea and long miles of bluish-green waves breaking for ever and ever on the beach. And oh, the cry of the seagulls! Have you ever heard it? Can you remember? ~ c-s-lewis, @wisdomtrove
24:The Word of God will be to you a bulwark and a high tower, a castle of defense against the foe. Oh, see to it that the Word of God is in you, in your very soul, permeating your thoughts, and so operating upon your outward life, that all may know you to be a true Bible-Christian, for they perceive it in your words and deeds. ~ charles-spurgeon, @wisdomtrove
25:Merit is a work for the sake of which Christ gives rewards. But no such work is to be found, for Christ gives by promise. Just as if a prince should say to me, "Come to me in my castle, and I will give you a hundred florins." I do a work, certainly, in going to the castle, but the gift is not given me as the reward of my work in going, but because the prince promised it to me. ~ martin-luther, @wisdomtrove
26:To live his life in his own way, to call his house his castle, to enjoy the fruits of his own labour, to educate his children as his conscience directs, to save for their prosperity after his death - these are wishes deeply ingrained in civilised man. Their realization is almost as necessary to our virtues as to our happiness. From their total frustration disastrous results both moral and psychological might follow. ~ c-s-lewis, @wisdomtrove
27:Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged and pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind; and the green ivy clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its own might and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove
28:When K. looked at the castle, often it seemed to him as if he were observing someone who sat quietly there in front of him gazing, not lost in thought and so oblivious of everything, but free and untroubled, as if he were alone with nobody to observe him, and yet must notice that he was observed, and all the same remained with his calm not even slightly disturbed; and really - one did not know whether it was cause or effect - the gaze of the observer could not remain concentrated there, but slid away. ~ franz-kafka, @wisdomtrove
29:[V]ariety of climate should always go with stability of abode... . an Englishman’s house is not only his castle; it is his fairy castle. Clouds and colours of every varied dawn and eve are perpetually touching and turning it from clay to gold, or from gold to ivory. There is a line of woodland beyond a corner of my garden which is literally different on every one of the three hundred and sixty-five days. Sometimes it seems as near as a hedge, and sometimes as far as a faint and fiery evening cloud. ~ g-k-chesterton, @wisdomtrove

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:Lady Kate Sackett ~ Richard Castle,
2:Touché, Mr. Castle. ~ Tahereh Mafi,
3:I loves me my Google ~ Richard Castle,
4:Ignorance is a fools castle. ~ Anonymous,
5:There's always a story. ~ Richard Castle,
6:A man's house is his castle. ~ James Otis,
7:Go ahead. Rip my bodice. ~ Richard Castle,
8:A man's head is his castle. ~ Joseph Heller,
9:Evil lurks in this castle. ~ MaryLu Tyndall,
10:My sorrow is my castle. ~ Soren Kierkegaard,
11:My sorrow is my castle. ~ S ren Kierkegaard,
12:For a man's house is his castle. ~ Edward Coke,
13:A man's bathroom is his castle ~ John Steinbeck,
14:Have fun storming the castle! ~ William Goldman,
15:Barkovsky and Petrov had turned ~ Richard Castle,
16:Ah ha, I knew you were reading it ~ Richard Castle,
17:Yonder lies duh castle of my fuddah. ~ Clive James,
18:Strike saw through it, too. That’s ~ Richard Castle,
19:Fools drive, lovers enjoy the ride. ~ Richard Castle,
20:Absence makes the loins grow hotter. ~ Richard Castle,
21:Blandings Castle is not for the weak. ~ P G Wodehouse,
22:FACT!: I wanna live in a castle. ~ Andrew VanWyngarden,
23:my father said, "when in dount, castle ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
24:Niiiiiiiikiiiiii, no encuentro sapatos ~ Richard Castle,
25:People change when you're not looking. ~ Richard Castle,
26:You’re sooooo ruggedly handsome.” Storm ~ Richard Castle,
27:I really am ruggedly handsome, aren't I? ~ Richard Castle,
28:Go ahead," he said. "I need the practice. ~ Richard Castle,
29:Living in a castle is objectively romantic. ~ Lev Grossman,
30:Don't build a castle of suspicions on one word. ~ Umberto Eco,
31:Don’t build a castle when you can build a kingdom. ~ Bob Goff,
32:Especially that. And pull stills of everyone ~ Richard Castle,
33:The house of every one is to him as his castle. ~ Edward Coke,
34:The wasp sits on the porch of her paper castle. ~ Mary Oliver,
35:Who needs drugs when you have Takeshi's Castle? ~ Craig Charles,
36:Do you want it bad enough to get over being hurt? ~ Richard Castle,
37:Chatter, chatter, chatter and nothing said of matter. ~ Anna Castle,
38:Leave nothing for death but a burned-out castle ~ Nikos Kazantzakis,
39:I'm a Guild Boss, remember? I have no sense of humor. ~ Jayne Castle,
40:Castle’s easy grin dances into the room before he does. ~ Tahereh Mafi,
41:Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. ~ George R R Martin,
42:In politics, guts is all. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
43:My lords! I'm not a castle. You don't have to storm me. ~ Ilona Andrews,
44:My lords! I’m not a castle. You don’t have to storm me. ~ Ilona Andrews,
45:Our house was a castle, turreted and open to the sky. ~ Shirley Jackson,
46:You can never tell from the door what’s behind a door. ~ Richard Castle,
47:Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows? ~ Jon Snow,
48:The house is a castle which the King cannot enter. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,
49:How can you dream about something you haven’t even seen yet? ~ Jack Castle,
50:This wasn't a garden,' said Susan presently. 'It was a castle. ~ C S Lewis,
51:Yonder lies the castle of my father. —TONY CURTIS (ATTRIB.), ~ Clive James,
52:A field of clay touched by the genius of man becomes a castle. ~ Og Mandino,
53:But all of this success came at the end of a long climb. ~ Michael N Castle,
54:My whinstone house my castle is, I have my own four walls. ~ Thomas Carlyle,
55:Showers: I must have wounded him.
Storm: With a cookie? ~ Richard Castle,
56:The chief extant monument of feudalism is the stone castle. ~ Lynn Thorndike,
57:This wasn't a garden,' said Susan presently. 'It was a castle... ~ C S Lewis,
58:I had reached up and pulled the castle of dreams down around him. ~ Susan Kay,
59:A librarian for president is exactly what this country needs. ~ Richard Castle,
60:As partners, Malcolm and Reynolds—also from the Burglary Unit ~ Richard Castle,
61:like a castle and from the other, it seemed to be a villa. The ~ Susan Mallery,
62:There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds. ~ G K Chesterton,
63:Any day is a good day so long as you survive to play another day. ~ Jayne Castle,
64:Knowledge can protect you much better than a strong castle! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
65:until years later when Captain Montrose canvassed the old crime ~ Richard Castle,
66:I would rather be in a hovel with you than a castle with anybody else. ~ J R Ward,
67:of those things people aren't supposed to let their enemies know? ~ Edward Castle,
68:Some books seem like a key to unfamiliar rooms in one’s own castle. ~ Franz Kafka,
69:Baby, ain’t no fun being a queen living in a kingless castle. ~ Eric Jerome Dickey,
70:Heath lost an argument with a porcupine in the castle gardens. ~ Elizabeth Vaughan,
71:I come from a big family, so I'd like to have a big family. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
72:The real answer is always found not in the heart but in the bank. ~ Richard Castle,
73:For the right woman? I'd like to think I'd do just about anything. ~ Richard Castle,
74:No castle can protect you, no castle but the Castle of Reason! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
75:Interested in some spices,” said Rook. “I’m just mad about saffron. ~ Richard Castle,
76:You’re like my wife.”
“Because I’m not sleeping with you either? ~ Richard Castle,
77:for you. I’m talking about the clothes. The travel you can’t get the ~ Richard Castle,
78:I will build you a castle with a tower so high it reaches the moon. ~ Smokey Robinson,
79:There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds. ~ Gilbert K Chesterton,
80:Let others build a cave with their clay. I will build a castle with mine. ~ Og Mandino,
81:I know. Firefly. I sort of feel a connection to him. Can’t explain it. ~ Richard Castle,
82:It is discouraging to try to be a good neighbor in a bad neighborhood. ~ William Castle,
83:It would mean that the castle is not yet generating enough eroto-energy. ~ Angela Carter,
84:Know why transparency's a beautiful thing? Transparency means no shame. ~ Richard Castle,
85:You think the queen of the castle is going to let me in the ivory tower? ~ Jay Crownover,
86:A little happy house is the strongest castle in this whole universe! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
87:Nikki Heat, you did this?"
"Would it help if I said he had it coming? ~ Richard Castle,
88:think we ought to live happily ever after. —Howl in Howl’s Moving Castle ~ Heidi Cullinan,
89:October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. ~ J K Rowling,
90:There is no castle so strong that it cannot be overthrown by money. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero,
91:And with a little pin bores through his castle wall and farewell king. ~ William Shakespeare,
92:(Cinderella can’t walk around her new castle covered in cinders, after all). ~ Katie Alender,
93:You can take a Lady out of the castle, but not the castle out of the Lady. ~ Catherine Bybee,
94:You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, ~ Bram Stoker,
95:I believe it is important for the university to always remember its roots. ~ Michael N Castle,
96:If you want to get to the castle, Groceries, you've got to swim the moat. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert,
97:My house is to me as my castle, since the law has not the art to destroy it. ~ Prince William,
98:Nikki paid attention to nags because they were the voices God gave to clues. ~ Richard Castle,
99:There was a castle called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair. ~ John Bunyan,
100:The strongest castle, tower and town
The golden bullet beats it down ~ William Shakespeare,
101:Dude,” Ezee murmured with a smile, “I think your princess is in another castle. ~ Annie Bellet,
102:var winterfell = new Westeros.Structures.Castle("Winterfell"); winterfell.Build(); ~ Anonymous,
103:A castle can never be a home because home is born out of love not of fear! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
104:Furlough took him on a tour of the castle to demonstrate the art of scurrying. ~ Kate DiCamillo,
105:If you don't believe in even the possibility of magic, you will never find it. ~ Richard Castle,
106:All around the castle, a briary hedge began to grow, with thorns as sharp as barbs. ~ Jane Yolen,
107:Behind every picture hides the true story. You just have to be willing to look. ~ Richard Castle,
108:If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. ~ Anne Lamott,
109:Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self. ~ Franz Kafka,
110:She's the Queen Bitch of Castle Hell. If you mess with her, she'll eat you alive. ~ Stephen King,
111:Snow White sucks the blood la ola lala" He sang, throwing bear can at the castle. ~ Cameron Jace,
112:The castle was round and about them, widespread and as unchartable as a dark day. ~ Mervyn Peake,
113:Love is the castle, doubt is the moat, desire is the paddle and hope is the boat. ~ Kellie Elmore,
114:John Lennon said life was what happened while you made other plans. So was death. ~ Richard Castle,
115:THINGS THAT AREN’T REQUIRED TO BE A QUEEN: a crown a castle a king mercy womanhood   ~ Nikita Gill,
116:Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one's own self.
   ~ Franz Kafka,
117:Screw you, Jasper,” said Castle mildly, “and screw Mother’s Day and Christmas, too. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
118:A king fortifies himself with a castle,” observed the Count, “a gentleman with a desk. ~ Amor Towles,
119:If she were to see the Rowdon Castle ghost, she would have to gain the battlements. ~ Jenny Schwartz,
120:It's not about knowing. You can never really know someone. It's really about trust. ~ Richard Castle,
121:Saint George and the Dragon!-Bonny Saint George for Merry England!-The castle is won! ~ Walter Scott,
122:You don’t live in a castle full of spiral stairs without getting calves of adamantium. ~ Lev Grossman,
123:Mrs. Davilow have willingly let fall a hint of the aerial castle-building which she had ~ George Eliot,
124:Best autopsy ever," said Rook. "I think I just peed myself a little. Seriously, I did. ~ Richard Castle,
125:For starters, you must understand the inherent difference between a castle and a palace. A ~ Max Brooks,
126:How many years will you crawl through this castle, so satisfied and still wanting more? ~ Roger McGuinn,
127:It sounds almost unreal, but I was born and raised on old castlegrounds - Kenmure Castle. ~ Sam Heughan,
128:You said yourself the guy looks like he pleasures himself to pictures of Rahm Emanuel. ~ Richard Castle,
129:A king fortifies himself with a castle,” observed the Count, “a gentleman with a desk.” As ~ Amor Towles,
130:If you're going to buy a castle, make sure you get on the property extension ladder. ~ Benny Bellamacina,
131:In Styria, we, though by no means magnificent people, inhabit a castle, or schloss. ~ J Sheridan Le Fanu,
132:Something to look forward to after we left Creepy Castle with its (mostly) Foul Family. ~ Kristen Ashley,
133:If you see a castle under fog, you must walk there to meet the extraordinary dreams! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
134:We have long honored those who gave their lives during the unfortunate reality of war. ~ Michael N Castle,
135:Repaying the debt of these ultimate sacrifices seems nearly impossible but we must try. ~ Michael N Castle,
136:The crew and cast at Castle becomes more of a reality than the people I've known all my life ~ Stana Katic,
137:Are you saying that someone framed Bigfoot for murder?" -- From the "Fast and the Furriest ~ Richard Castle,
138:Because if you don't even believe in the possibility of magic you will never ever find it. ~ Richard Castle,
139:It squatted in the middle of a wide valley like a fairy-tale castle in a steampunk dystopia. ~ Susannah Nix,
140:A man's home may seem to be his castle on the outside; inside is more often his nursery. ~ Clare Boothe Luce,
141:At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. ~ J K Rowling,
142:Honestly, what good is owning a castle if the person you love doesn't want to share it with you? ~ Meg Cabot,
143:It's very homely, this castle. It doesn't have huge ballrooms. I didn't want a cold, cavernous place. ~ Enya,
144:Nothing will turn a man's home into a castle more quickly and effectively than a dachshund. ~ Queen Victoria,
145:Shipwreck? Snow Job? I know. Firefly. I sort of feel a connection to him. Can’t explain it. ~ Richard Castle,
146:When it comes to dysfunctional families," he said,"I'll put mine up against anyone's, anytime ~ Jayne Castle,
147:Large motorway flyovers are the cathedrals of the modern world. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
148:There's about 260 rooms in the new castle which you go through, but it's all about the game play. ~ Don Bluth,
149:Beyond the town, darker than dark, King Haggard's castle teetered like a lunatic on stilts... ~ Peter S Beagle,
150:If you have something hot, you keep your mouth shut, your eyes open, and your secrets buried. ~ Richard Castle,
151:I want to know how the hell you managed to locate that hideout using the damn public library. ~ Richard Castle,
152:Rook even investigated a site devoted to the mutt languages of some TV series called Firefly. ~ Richard Castle,
153:Sad state to spend your life in. Being afraid of your own self." Rex Walls, The Glass Castle ~ Jeannette Walls,
154:She stared at the castle. She had actually been summoned to a castle. A week before Christmas. ~ Fern Michaels,
155:Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation. ~ William Allingham,
156:The makeshift bag became a proper item, named 'Trash-Quality Makeshift Bag'. I liked it a lot. ~ Edward Castle,
157:Well, they did look cool, but when cool people knew how cool they were, they became unbearable. ~ Edward Castle,
158:Working together we can strengthen Delaware State University and the students who attend it. ~ Michael N Castle,
159:Your castle-building skills are far superior.” I’d build one every day if I could look at you. ~ Claudia Connor,
160:Castle Face Records, run by The Oh Sees main man, Johnny Dwyer is always worth checking in with. ~ Henry Rollins,
161:I live in a house that was built in 1480. It has a moat around it. It is like a little baby castle. ~ Bill Wyman,
162:There's comedy even in tragedy. There's comedy in life. And in 'Castle', we go for that comedy. ~ Nathan Fillion,
163:we humans have a penchant for complicating stuff that probably shouldn’t be all that complicated. ~ Jayne Castle,
164:Well, you know, if you do 200 shows a year, they're not all going to be like Castle Donnington. ~ Sebastian Bach,
165:Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never more can the Count enter there Undead. ~ Bram Stoker,
166:So this is under the original castle. God knows how many demons have crept ashore through here. ~ Barbara Monahan,
167:Mind you, Princess Cassandra used to stalk us when she sneaked out of the castle as a girl. ~ John Flanagan,
168:People say after a fire it's water damage that's the worst. We're still drying out Windsor Castle. ~ Prince Philip,
169:If I was Simon Cowell for a day, I’d buy a bouncy castle, and jump on it. Then…pour ketchup on myself! ~ Liam Payne,
170:It was more of a castle than a house. It loomed over them, immense and massive, three stories high. ~ Jeanne DuPrau,
171:I've got the key to my castle in the air, but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
172:When Delaware State University was founded in 1890, it was not by choice, but by social reality. ~ Michael N Castle,
173:What, warder, ho! the man that can blow so complacent a blast as that, probably blows it from a castle. ~ Mark Twain,
174:Castle is a guy living in a fantasy world. He's in his imagination, writing these stories of murder. ~ Nathan Fillion,
175:CSI, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, Criminal Minds, Blue Bloods, Castle, Bones, and Hawaii Five-0 ~ Anonymous,
176:Delaware State began as a school bent on service - teaching education, social services and nursing. ~ Michael N Castle,
177:If you wanted to explore the castle forever and ever, you’d need to get hold of the Philosopher’s Stone. ~ J K Rowling,
178:Like so much academical philosophizing, it was superficially plausible yet wholly divorced from reality. ~ Anna Castle,
179:The Ganseys were courtiers and kings, and when there was no castle to invite them, they built one. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,
180:...but she shook the detective off and her moan revved up into a full-blown 1950's horror film shriek. ~ Richard Castle,
181:even the Pyramids and other “great works” were as ephemeral as a castle of sand on the beach at Brighton. ~ Dan Simmons,
182:We all try. And try as we might to control things, sometimes bad things get in and it's not our fault. ~ Richard Castle,
183:We all try. And try as we might to control things, sometimes bad things get in and it’s not our fault. ~ Richard Castle,
184:You said you were the King of the Castle – and you’re not, not by any means! But that’s the Dirty Rascal. ~ P L Travers,
185:When you say things like that to me, I call it a Kardashian. Know why? Because I'm looking for the but. ~ Richard Castle,
186:[E]xtreme happiness invites religion almost as much as extreme misery. ~ Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle (1948), Ch. 13,
187:The Flamingo, as Siegel named his hotel, was a castle in the wasteland with a lot of tamed water nearby. And ~ Tim Powers,
188:The road to the Castle is paved with anonymous letters, deriving from the besetting Irish sin, jealousy. ~ Tim Pat Coogan,
189:Fang! Angel?" i yelled, not even trying for stealth. i was storming the castle, not stealing the jewels. ~ James Patterson,
190:I do enjoy animated movies. I really love anime and movies like 'Spirited Away' and 'Howl's Moving Castle.' ~ Nicolas Cage,
191:In my nervous frame of mind I expected to see the ghost of Hamlet wandering on the legendary castle terrace. ~ Jules Verne,
192:I’d live anywhere, - in one room, in the castle ruin right now – if it meant we could all just be together. ~ Cecelia Ahern,
193:Like dew I was born Like dew I vanish Osaka Castle and all that I have ever done Is but a dream Within a dream. ~ Anonymous,
194:Self-taught, are you?" Julian Castle asked Newt.
"Isn't everybody?" Newt inquired.
"Very good answer. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
195:-Tu teoría sería interesante si no fuera por un pequeño detalle.
-¿Cuál?
-Que no estaba escuchando ~ Richard Castle,
196:Will: I'm looking for fighting men. I plan to sack a castle, and I hear you people are rather good at that. ~ John Flanagan,
197:It is not easy to describe lucidly in short notes to a poem the various approaches to a fortified castle, ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
198:Its palliation is a daily task, its cure a fervent hope. —William Castle, describing leukemia in 1950 ~ Siddhartha Mukherjee,
199:Miracle Max: Have fun stormin' da castle. Valerie: Think it'll work? Miracle Max: It would take a miracle. ~ William Goldman,
200:What the hell did this Curran do to you? Killed your master, stole your girl, burned down your castle? What? ~ Ilona Andrews,
201:You can do more with a castle in a story than with the best cardboard castle that ever stood on a nursery table. ~ C S Lewis,
202:Idealism is like a castle in the air if it is not based on a solid foundation of social and political realism. ~ Claude McKay,
203:I was able to grow up and do silly things and have a life with only a small amount of public scrutiny. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
204:like two r's trapped in a spanish songbook, tilli and max lurked in their shoebox castle, waiting to be rolled. ~ Tom Robbins,
205:Norwich is a very fine city, and the castle, which stands in the middle of it, on a hill, is truly majestic. ~ William Cobbett,
206:One of the most essential branches of English liberty is the freedom of one's house. A man's house is his castle. ~ James Otis,
207:Think, think, think. It will hurt like hell at first, but you'll get used to it. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
208:White Castle has a unique position in the Midwest. It is a cult brand that has developed a strong, loyal following. ~ Ron Paul,
209:Programming went back to the beginning of time. It was a little like the midden out back of his father's castle. ~ Vernor Vinge,
210:At times like these, without the work to hide in, without the martial arts to quiet it, the replay always came. ~ Richard Castle,
211:There are two kinds of folks who sit around thinking about how to kill people: psychopaths and mystery writers. ~ Richard Castle,
212:how I wish I could fist a bit of old-fashioned beef in the fore-castle, as I used to when i was before the mast. ~ Herman Melville,
213:It is as easy to create a castle as a button. It's just a matter of whether you're focused on a castle or a button. ~ Esther Hicks,
214:A real island where there had once been real towns, where there stood a real castle—the castle where he was born. ~ Andrew Peterson,
215:Castle isn't really affected emotionally by murder. He's thrilled about, 'Oh, my God, I wonder how this happened?' ~ Nathan Fillion,
216:Delaware State is no longer a college for African Americans without other choices, it is a university of choice. ~ Michael N Castle,
217:History is a child building a sand-castle by the sea, and that child is the whole majesty of man's power in the world. ~ Heraclitus,
218:I absolutely love being a mother. It's been a blessing. It's fun and it's hard, but it's absolutely amazing. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
219:It’s not about knowing. You can never really know someone. It’s really about trust.”
— Jameson Rook, Heat Rises ~ Richard Castle,
220:Little Newt snorted. “Religion!”
“Beg your pardon?” Castle said.
“See the cat?” asked Newt. “See the cradle? ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
221:Place a man in an alien floating evil castle, and then hand him a bottle of wine, and all was well once more. Bogusch ~ Phil Tucker,
222:[She] was trading sex for print. She certainly wouldn't be the first woman to do that, now, would she, Nikki Heat? ~ Richard Castle,
223:A brother offended is harder to win than a strong city, and contentions are like the bars of a castle. —PROVERBS 18:19 ~ John Bevere,
224:I remember people who'd had a lot of hardship during the war. They'd thought we'd won. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
225:I will fight for what I believe in until I drop dead. And that's what keeps you alive. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
226:Miracle Max: Have fun stormin' da castle.
Valerie: Think it'll work?
Miracle Max: It would take a miracle. ~ William Goldman,
227:Our castle is not imposing, but is well built, and surrounded by a very fine garden. I live in the bailiff's house. ~ Franz Schubert,
228:Do you know my father as little as that? We will take your castle, but I would not do it with you and the boy in it. ~ Sarah Woodbury,
229:-Esta es la mejor autopsia de la historia -declaró Rook-. Hasta creo que me he meado un poco de la emoción. En serio ~ Richard Castle,
230:How simple it would be, a murder in his own castle. The Marshalsea was not a place for justice, for honest dealing. ~ Antonia Hodgson,
231:Mrs. Belle Gunness, the grim widow of La Porte, Indiana, with her castle of death and her yard filled with graves, ~ Harold Schechter,
232:When fully fluffed they looked like oversized wads of dryer lint with six little paws and two big, innocent blue eyes. ~ Jayne Castle,
233:Will to Gundar: I'm looking for fighting men. I plan to sack a castle, and I hear you people are rather good at that. ~ John Flanagan,
234:An impossibly huge castle of rock and iron, floating in an endless expanse of sky. That is the entirety of this world. ~ Reki Kawahara,
235:Because they are living creatures and that means they have to work to stay alive. Staying alive always has a dark side. ~ Jayne Castle,
236:Goldfish have no memory, I guess their lives are much like mine. And the little plastic castle is a surprise everytime. ~ Ani DiFranco,
237:It says he's rich. It also says he's a scion. What the heck is a scion? Sounds like some kind of refrigerator or a car. ~ Jayne Castle,
238:Since moving to the Castle, she'd discovered that only the white men talked of "black magic." As though magic had a color. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
239:Some of the best books published every year are penned by talented writers whose identity the public will never know. ~ Richard Castle,
240:Britain in the 1970s was undoubtedly an economic mess because of the oil price explosion. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
241:Now she was only half a woman, half herself. A crazy little girl shut up in a castle, too tired to play princess anymore. ~ J T Ellison,
242:Remember, a castle can be an intimidating, impenetrable fortress, or it can be turned into a prison when surrounded. The ~ Ryan Holiday,
243:There's one possibility we're neglecting...the drone itself. It's rise of the machines. Skynet." -- From "Human Factor ~ Richard Castle,
244:The rich man in his castle, The poor man at his gate, God made them, high or lowly, And order'd their estate. ~ Cecil Frances Alexander,
245:Like Beauty locked up in the Beast’s castle, I developed my own brand of Stockholm syndrome, identifying with my captor. ~ Holly Madison,
246:Once you can get “out of the house,” your “castle” and comfort zone, much of the journey has a life—and death—of its own. ~ Richard Rohr,
247:And by the way, if she constantly leaving you messages that she's in another castle...she's just not that into you. Move on. ~ Eric Smith,
248:As a writer, I can think of no greater terror than confronting a blank page, except perhaps the terror of being shot at. ~ Richard Castle,
249:For a man's house is his castle, et domus sua cuique tutissimum refugium [and one's home is the safest refuge to everyone]. ~ Edward Coke,
250:Milburn the Mad and his vile viceroy took the canary to Castle Cragganmore. It appears our author is agog for alliteration. ~ Scott Meyer,
251:You know what I did after I wrote my first novel? I shut up and wrote twenty-three more."

("The Castle") ~ Michael Connelly,
252:You see, another reason for nationalization was that private ownership meant fragmentation. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
253:Lancre Castle was built on an outcrop of rock by an architect who had heard about Gormenghast but hadn’t got the budget. ~ Terry Pratchett,
254:If you build a castle, it means that you are weak and coward! No lion builds a castle, because he himself is a castle! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
255:Old Friend The Witch and the Werecat Of Reading and Plots Thieves in the Castle A Costly Mistake Vision of Perfection ~ Christopher Paolini,
256:The vision that God gives is not some unattainable castle in the sky, but a vision of what God wants you to be down here. ~ Oswald Chambers,
257:Books were my window on the world. Growing up at the Elephant and Castle, which was very rough, my paradise was the library. ~ Michael Caine,
258:She's just a friend. Four words that could possibly kill any woman, but they made me smile... And the castle was my witness. ~ Cecelia Ahern,
259:Anything is possible."
"You really believe that?"
"It's what the great love stories are about, right?Beating the odds. ~ Richard Castle,
260:books have been my greatest comfort, castle-building a never-failing delight, and scribbling a very profitable amusement. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
261:In all my characters, I try to find an iota of myself, and in Castle, I found a lot. He gets away with a lot, so that's fun. ~ Nathan Fillion,
262:The home to everyone is to him his castle and fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose. ~ Edward Coke,
263:There are too many steps in this castle, and it seems to me they add a few every night, just to vex me" - Maester Cressen ~ George R R Martin,
264:A good quotation must be provocative; as provocative as to demolish an old wrong castle in the mind with a single strike! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
265:I just wondered if you always carry a miniature tool kit when you take a woman out to dinner.”

“Always. I'm an engineer. ~ Jayne Castle,
266:Where I come from you don't get to call a scene a scene until someone pulls out a knife or starts throwing broken beer bottles. ~ Jayne Castle,
267:You're wearing that hat? After all the magic I used to make your dress pretty?" ~Howl from the movie 'Howl's Moving Castle ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
268:The man who stands firm in order to protect a sand-castle can never be relied upon; for he has given away his common sense. ~ Winston Churchill,
269:why are you ending our engagement then?"
"Because of the reason you fought it" (The duel)
"I don't understand."
"I know ~ Jayne Castle,
270:Earth is our only citadel in the universe; but we have illogically built many more fortresses within this beautiful castle! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
271:I want to be a science teacher. My friends asked me why, but I'm intrigued by it and I'm quite good at science at school. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
272:Every other guest has left the castle, Harry. Why haven’t you?” “I am here to be your conscience, Adam. To save you from yourself. ~ Sarah M Eden,
273:If a castle gets destroyed, you just build a new one. If you wanted me to I'd build them over and over. Let's build them together. ~ Fuyumi Soryo,
274:And when the man Rook had dubbed the unholy spawn off Rahm Emanuel and Gordon Gekko wanted something, "no" came at your own risk. ~ Richard Castle,
275:Cross,please, just hold on for a few more minutes, okay? You promised to make out with me in a castle, and I'm holding you to it. ~ Rachel Hawkins,
276:In the castle of the lotus twixt the brows
Whence it shoots the arrows of its sight and will ~ Sri Aurobindo, Savitri, The Finding of the Soul,
277:I've always heard that by the time you see the teeth, its too late."

(this quote paraphrased in several Jayne Castle books) ~ Jayne Castle,
278:Life is like Candyland, there are many paths to take, sometimes you run into Lord Licorice but the end will always be Candy Castle. ~ Jack Barakat,
279:The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? ~ J K Rowling,
280:Manners!" he said. "Why, it is merely the truth, and truth is good manners; manners are a fiction. The castle is done. Do you like it? ~ Mark Twain,
281:tales of Castle Perilous are as endless as the worlds it contains. Only a relative few of them have been set down.… … Which brings ~ John DeChancie,
282:The castle’s predecessor, the Roman villa, had been unfortified, depending on Roman law and the Roman legions for its ramparts. ~ Barbara W Tuchman,
283:The story of the Prince does that to men. It breaks them down, removes the rubble, and builds a castle where there was once a prison. ~ Chuck Black,
284:this guy had the story on Petar Matic. “Don’t you love the name, Rook? Sounds like a product a mohel would sell on an infomercial. ~ Richard Castle,
285:When I am a maester in a castle I will have a horse to ride, he thought. Then he tripped upon a cobble and wondered who he was fooling. ~ Anonymous,
286:Rejection isn't failure. Failure is giving up. Everybody gets rejected. It's how you handle it that determines where you'll end up. ~ Richard Castle,
287:That'd be a cheerful visit, said Ron. Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately? ~ J K Rowling,
288:And that will increasingly dawn on people. The demand for controlling the commanding heights will grow. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
289:It never pays to walk blindly. Especially not in your own castle where familiarity hides so much - even when we have the eyes to see. ~ Mark Lawrence,
290:never underestimate the ability of the devils among us to see only the saints in themselves. How else could they go about their day? ~ Richard Castle,
291:That’d be a cheerful visit,’ said Ron. ‘Hello, Hagrid, tell us,have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately? ~ J K Rowling,
292:Bad writing is not easier than good writing. It's just as hard to make a toilet seat as it is a castle window. Only the view is different. ~ Ben Hecht,
293:Because everyone's seeking the same thing: an imaginary place, their own castle in the air, and their very own special corner of it. ~ Haruki Murakami,
294:I've lived a fast-paced life, but I had the best childhood. I didn't miss out on anything by having my daughter at a young age. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
295:Mahoney sees that she is locked down and bolted. If she were a castle she would have wound up the drawbridge and woken the archers by now. ~ Jess Kidd,
296:On the wings of fancy, gentle readers, bear yourselves into the mid-air, where by imagination you may form a large stupendous castle. ~ Sarah Fielding,
297:That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately? ~ J K Rowling,
298:That's silly, the people in prison are thieves and murderers.'
'So are the ones in the castle. How else do you get to own a castle? ~ Malcolm Pryce,
299:Writing anything, it sorta starts the way you'd build a castle at the beach. You're just taking your hands and you're mounting up sand. ~ Aaron Sorkin,
300:I thought 'I can't be an actor, I can't'. Then this film came up and it was like someone saying to me, 'You can, don't give up'. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
301:Like a good chess player, Satan is always trying to maneuver you into a position where you can save your castle only by losing your bishop. ~ C S Lewis,
302:look. life is bad. evryones sad. we're all gona die. but i alredy bought this inflatable boumcy castle so r u gona take ur shoes off or wat ~ Jomny Sun,
303:This is the land of Narnia,' said the Faun, 'where we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair Paravel.... ~ C S Lewis,
304:...we sat there together for a while longer, two people lost in remembered music, half hidden in the shadow of a castle on a moonlit hill. ~ Jojo Moyes,
305:Once, my mum told me a story about a princess, and it began with her stuck in a castle. My story beings with my head stuck in the toilet. ~ Sarah Dalton,
306:These weren’t just any walls, these were the stones of Milderhurst Castle, beneath whose skin the distant hours were whispering, watching. ~ Kate Morton,
307:We have to feel the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening. ~ G K Chesterton,
308:What a strange thing, to build a castle in the air. We made a friendship out of nothing, because nothing was the heart of what we shared. ~ Ian Caldwell,
309:A chap's bedroom – you can't get way from it – is his castle, and he has every right to look askance if gargoyles come glaring in at him. ~ P G Wodehouse,
310:I didn't do too much. I came here (to The Magic Castle) and learned about magic. I read a book, but not his father's book. Sorry about that. ~ Evan Jones,
311:Modern candidates seem to have to live with political matters all the time. In my father's time, a politician's home was still his castle. ~ Rose Kennedy,
312:Really?” he asked, a mischievous light sparking in his eye. “Because I thought that a luxury room in a five-star castle sounded pretty close. ~ Anonymous,
313:You're not going to try to hug me or something, are you?" Phenex grumbled. "You've been into some weird shit since you got married. ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
314:An expert is a man who tells you a simple thing in a confused way in such a fashion as to make you think the confusion is your own fault. ~ William Castle,
315: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,
316:Sometimes the hardest things in live are the things most worth doing. It's because we haven't figured them out yet, doesn't mean we wont. ~ Richard Castle,
317:I am sure of the here and now, this moment, and the next. I am sure of my past.” That was ghost bird’s castle keep, and it was inviolate. ~ Jeff VanderMeer,
318:I’m in my castle with my queen and prince. I honestly have everything.” Gavin stared into her eyes, his breath hijacked as always. “Thank you ~ Gail McHugh,
319:My home is my castle, and I spend a lot of time nurturing it, redecorating - moving this and adjusting that, adding flowers and candles. ~ Evangeline Lilly,
320:I rather fancy the story of Laurelyn the Moondreamer and how she built a castle of silver moonbeams, don’t you? Silver-mind it was called. ~ Kristen Britain,
321:It's been a while since I hooked up with Prince Insomnia, so I guesshe was due for a visit. He hasn't changed... All tease, no action. ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
322:Like a beleaguered castle her mind was husbanding its resources, boarding every window, locking every door, shutting down unnecessary functions. ~ Susan Kay,
323:Lucy absently thanked him and at once began to consider which among her gowns would be best suited for a midnight adventure to a gothic castle. ~ David Liss,
324:Nikki, never underestimate the ability of the devils among us to see only the saints in themselves. How else could they go about their day? ~ Richard Castle,
325:Some day i feel like the queen of my castle, some days like cinderella, but piss me off and i will quickly turn into the wicked witch of the west. ~ Various,
326:Sometimes the hardest things in life, are the things most worth doing. It's because we haven't figuered them out yet, doesn't mean we wont. ~ Richard Castle,
327:Tonight I'll be interviewing Ken Watanabe, Keisha Castle Hughes, Benecio Del Toro and Djimon Honsou - and yes, those are actors, not caterers. ~ Joan Rivers,
328:Why get rid of Chamberlain to put in Halifax? It's like getting rid of the organ-grinder to put in the monkey. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
329:It's gonna be awesome! A suspected pedophile dunks my kids head in a bucket so when she dies she can live in an invisible castle. Set the alarm! ~ Dana Gould,
330:I would love do a guest spot on Castle because Nathan Fillion is so dreamy, and he and I are friends. And I think we could have a lot of fun. ~ Callie Thorne,
331:Let go of me, King." "I am King," Riko agreed, "and you are going to spend Christmas at my castle. You're coming to Evermore for winter break. ~ Nora Sakavic,
332:Lie down there in the shade and sleep, and I will soon build the castle for you. If it would be a pleasure to you, you can live in it yourself. ~ Jacob Grimm,
333:Or maybe go sci-fi. You sorta look like that guy who roamed outer space everybody's so crazy about."

"Malcolm Reynolds?" asked Rook. ~ Richard Castle,
334:A neurotic is a man who builds a castle in the air. A psychotic is the man who lives in it. A psychiatrist is the man who collects the rent. ~ Jerome Lawrence,
335:It was unnerving, to think she was being psychoanalyzed by someone who frequently complained that the castle walls had started bleeding again. ~ Marissa Meyer,
336:Nikki didn’t believe him but was applying another rule of jujitsu: When you’re closing in for a takedown, don’t get faked into a sucker hold. ~ Richard Castle,
337:Love is a piano dropped from a four story window and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
-Two Little Girls (Little Plastic Castle) ~ Ani DiFranco,
338:My Aincrad style of swordsmanship was brought here from the floating castle. From a game of death, where every battle risked the ultimate price. ~ Reki Kawahara,
339:Before the castle gate all was as the fox had said: so the son went in and found the chamber where the golden bird hung in a wooden cage, and below ~ Jacob Grimm,
340:But Dad! It really did happen! I was transported to a Laboratory in an old stone castle and there was a wizard in blue robes with a floppy hat and... ~ L R W Lee,
341:but her emotions sit on the throne of her intellect. This is how she’s built, and like any castle, her foundational stones aren’t easily rearranged. ~ Lisa Genova,
342:It isn't very pretty to have been made a fool of by one's own feelings,' he said. 'To take childish promises and build a--a castle out of them... ~ Winston Graham,
343:She looked defeated, a castle stormed, torn down, with no one living inside. She looked like a hollowed-out creature, only shell and no soul. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,
344:The Goldsworth castle became particularly solitary after that turning point at dusk which resembles so much the nightfall of the mind. Stealthy ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
345:You soon learn there’s no elegance or dignity in death if you spend time in the castle kitchens. You learn how ugly it is, and how good it tastes. ~ Mark Lawrence,
346:The Great Wall of China, the Berlin Wall, the walls surrounding a medieval castle: obsolete walls evoke nostalgia. Make your walls obsolete. ~ Khang Kijarro Nguyen,
347:unoccupied space will never cease to change simply because nothing forbids it to do so. ========== We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Shirley Jackson) ~ Anonymous,
348:Windsor Castle seemed to Luis from without an intimidating pile, an excrescence of centuries of wealth heaped up on a core of medieval brutality. ~ Terry Pratchett,
349:Your past is just that, the past, a place within your psyche with no more reality to it then the picture of a castle on a postcard is made from stone. ~ Guy Finley,
350:I've been thinking about how ugly gossip is. How it victimizes people, but how as much as we say we hate it, we still feed on it like it was crack. ~ Richard Castle,
351:riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. ~ James Joyce,
352:Rook asked, "Did you really stab him with an icicle?"
When she nodded, he said, "Please tell me you said FREEZE."
Richard Castle-- Heat Rises ~ Richard Castle,
353:You have to believe in yourself. And you have to, down deep within the bottom of your soul, feel that you can do the job that you've set out to do. ~ William Castle,
354:He bought her a pretty music box with a picture of the castle in winter painted on the lid, and she slept on his shoulder on the train ride home. ~ Michael Schmicker,
355:Rook was a journalist but strove to be a storyteller, one who let his subjects speak for themselves and stayed out of their way as much as possible. ~ Richard Castle,
356:The danger isn't that Big Brother may storm the castle gates. The danger is that Americans don't realize that he is already inside the castle walls. ~ Wayne LaPierre,
357:The heat tamped everything down. Aside from a handful of certifiable runners and insane cyclists, the park had been left to the birds and squirrels. ~ Richard Castle,
358:Although it may not be a castle, [it is the] functional equivalent of a hotel room, a vacation and retirement home or a hunting and fishing cabin. ~ John Paul Stevens,
359:And what always struck me about that war period was how even Churchill had to talk socialism to keep up people's morale. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
360:Great,” Keagan said simply. “Nice to meet you, Miss Castle. I’m off for a week, so I won’t be around for a while.” He sounded relieved. “But Jack Smith ~ Kathryn Shay,
361:If only a horrible storm can demolish the castle of the devil, then let the storm be victorious! It is not uncommon that heaven comes after hell! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
362:It's simple, really," Alaric Wulf said. " Lucien Antonescu is the prince of darkness." Jon nodded. "Yeah," he said. "We know. He's got a castle and stuff. ~ Meg Cabot,
363:Ensuring a bright future for all our children is the responsibility of the community, the schools, families and like it or not- politicians as well. ~ Michael N Castle,
364:He called her a MILF, which must be offensive because Miss Castle called him a thug and sent hit out of the room. Gabe, what is a MILF?”- Bethany ~ Alexandra Adornetto,
365:Life in the clouds sure feels unreal. A fantasy – a castle in the air, adrift from the ground, safe from the realities of life.
~ E L JamesAnastasia ~ E L James,
366:This is the land of Narnia,' said the Faun, 'where we are now; all that lies between the lamp-post and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. ~ C S Lewis,
367:Without noticing it, Heat had begun seeing herself as working for her Captain and lost sight of her guiding principle, that she worked for the victim. ~ Richard Castle,
368:But flirting does not come easily to someone brought up in a remote castle with tartan wallpaper in the bathrooms, bagpipes at dawn and men who wear kilts. ~ Rhys Bowen,
369:Fight because you don't know how to die quietly. Win because you don't know how to lose. This king's ruled long enough—it's time to tear his castle down. ~ Nora Sakavic,
370:Half of the castle has, at one point or another, been burned down by a combination of Barbary corsairs, lightning bolts, Napoleon, and smoking in bed. ~ Neal Stephenson,
371:Most people come up against a wall they give up, not you. You don't let go, you don't back down...it's what makes you extraordinary." Castle to Beckett ~ Richard Castle,
372:There are two kinds of people who sit around all day thinking about killing people...mystery writers and serial killers. I'm the kind that pays better. ~ Richard Castle,
373:You enrich people with creative resources, and over time, these Lego bricks that end up in their heads eventually build this enormous, incredible castle. ~ Maria Popova,
374:wished she had been around the castle the last few days, because he knew she would have found playing with the new vampire weapon prototypes entertaining. ~ Tenaya Jayne,
375:You're dressed for sneaking about Dracula's castle. Be still my thawing, dark heart. You certainly know how to make a young man feel alive, Wadsworth. ~ Kerri Maniscalco,
376:Great. So if a dragon and a fairy show up at the castle, what the hell am I supposed to do with that information? Put out a warrant for their arrest?" "No, ~ Daniel Suarez,
377:I spent nine years living in a graveyard of dead dreams, pretending it was Cinderella's castle. If that's not sad enough to cry over, I don't know what is. ~ Shirlee McCoy,
378:The ideal of happiness has always taken material form in the house, whether cottage or castle; it stands for permanence and separation from the world. ~ Simone de Beauvoir,
379:What I got in exchange for my false prosperity was only a fearful destruction, a cold mask, and a pitch-dark castle like a mausoleum that the Phantom made. ~ Mizuki Nomura,
380:you do not I will make an end of you, as I did of the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow." Dorothy followed her through many of the beautiful rooms in her castle ~ L Frank Baum,
381:I was building a perfect and nearly impenetrable facade of gleaming antiseptic steel and glass to cement onto the front of the Gothic horror of Castle Dexter. ~ Jeff Lindsay,
382:Spain?” Jesse said and glanced about at the others, but they looked equally perplexed. “Spain?” “Yes, to Baldr’s castle. Where did you think he lived? The North Pole? ~ Brom,
383:It's simple, really," Alaric Wulf said. " Lucien Antonescu is the prince of darkness."

Jon nodded. "Yeah," he said. "We know. He's got a castle and stuff. ~ Meg Cabot,
384:Some folks believe. Some folds need to see to believe. Some folds need their loved ones hurled off the top of a castle by a spirit-bitch-from-hell to believe. ~ Kristen Ashley,
385:The Calvinist nobles convey their objections by throwing two imperial representatives out the window of Prague Castle in the famous “defenestration of Prague. ~ Brad S Gregory,
386:The “interior castle” of the human soul, as Teresa of Avila called it, has many rooms, and they are slowly occupied by God, allowing us time and room to grow. ~ Dallas Willard,
387:If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. Otherwise, you'll just be rearranging furniture in rooms you've already been in. ~ Anne Lamott,
388:I began to hear the hurried, eager gossip of Castle Stream. I thought of trout with bright speckled backs and pure white bellies, and my heart went up in my chest. ~ Stephen King,
389:Lord Uthe once said I wouldn’t be the one at the head of the army, storming the castle. I’d be the engineer, tunneling beneath to bring the whole thing crashing down. ~ Anonymous,
390:There was no castle. You were simply listening to a record.
A needle, swaying lightly on a black frozen pond,
Led the voices of dead poets out into the sun. ~ Czes aw Mi osz,
391:Lance Armstrong, the famous cyclist and more importantly, cancer survivor, has said 'if you ever get a second chance for something, you've got to go all the way.' ~ Michael N Castle,
392:what happens when that hard coating you’ve developed to protect the most vulnerable part of you becomes so impenetrable that that part can’t even be reached by you? ~ Richard Castle,
393:No shame in having a ghostwriter," Storm said. "Some of the best books published every year are penned by talented writers whose identity the public will never know. ~ Richard Castle,
394:Every time I stumbled and fell, something in me hardened, became worse.
By the time I reached the castle gates; I think I was not Lestat. I was someone else altogether. ~ Anne Rice,
395:Prince Caspian lived in a great castle in the center of Narnia with his uncle, Miraz, the King of Narnia, and his aunt, who had red hair and was called Queen Prunaprismia. ~ C S Lewis,
396:At that moment I didn't particularly care if a band of raging marauders tried to do her in,but if there were frequent attacks on her "castle," I thought I should know. ~ Amanda Hocking,
397:They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution. ~ J K Rowling,
398:This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs. ~ Terry Pratchett,
399:Temptations are enemies outside the castle seeking entrance. If there be no false retainer within who holds treacherous parley, there can scarcely be even an offer. ~ Henry Ward Beecher,
400:The line between male and female turns out to be rather fine. Although we imagine our genders as firm and fixed, in fact they are as malleable as a sand castle. ~ Jennifer Finney Boylan,
401:They filled Woolsey Castle with music and art, drifting about in a fog of intellectualism, and like any fog, they were unpredictable and occasionally quite damp. Imogene ~ Gail Carriger,
402:A castle full of boys can end one of two ways. Either its inhabitants channel aggression into order, discipline, and productivity. Or they degenerate into hormonal apes. ~ Soman Chainani,
403:to the castle feeling Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough. They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for him to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn’t been ~ J K Rowling,
404:New rumors that Saddam Hussein is planning to flee to a castle in Libya with 10 billion dollars. Now President Bush doesn't know whether to nuke him or give him a tax cut. ~ Craig Kilborn,
405:When Dad wasn’t telling us about all the amazing things he had already done, he was telling us about the wondrous things he was going to do. Like build the Glass Castle. ~ Jeannette Walls,
406:You can lie to yourself about all kinds of things. Until you can't, anymore. Until reality pounds a hole through your fantasy castle and the reality check must be cashed in. ~ Ann Aguirre,
407:By the time Brand Appleton reached the castle grounds, he had acquired a significant crowd. Never in the history of Toll had one man needed so many people to arrest him. ~ Frances Hardinge,
408:MORALEY, WILLIAM. Voyages and Adventures of. Original Edition, New Castle (England), 1743. Later printed in the Chronicle of New Castle, and later in Chester (Pa.), Republican. ~ Anonymous,
409:My father and brother were slain at Sandal Castle because they engaged a far superior force. It was daring, heroic, foolhardy…and fatal. I’ll not make the same mistake. ~ Sharon Kay Penman,
410:No!" Tony/Toni/Toné exclaims. "I saw the two of you canoodling. You're a regular Johnny Castle." I have no idea who Johnny Castle is, but I definitely approve of the name. ~ David Levithan,
411:She’d been dreaming about being trapped in a gloomy, dark, half-ruined castle where there lived a beastly lord so hideous and animal-like that no one would go near him. ~ Melanie Dickerson,
412:everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit. The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner! ~ Bram Stoker,
413:Just the example Delaware State University graduates set by the way they live their lives, should be an inspiration to other high school students to go to Delaware State. ~ Michael N Castle,
414:But you, you foolish girl, you have gone home to a leaky castle across the sea to lie awake in linen smelling of lavender, and hear the nightingale, and long for me. ~ Edna St Vincent Millay,
415:The past is gone, Claire. It's like a sand castle washed away by the waves. We can remember what it looked like, but even if we build it again, it won't be the exactly the same. ~ Megan Hart,
416:A castle of defense, a bastion of might
A fort where the wise teach the young to fight
An armory of weapons, sharp as hooks
Are wrapped in leather and shelved as books ~ Shannon Hale,
417:Ed said, "I can tell you, when we heard that baby was going to be all right, there wasn't a dry seat in the castle."

"I'm so happy to hear that," Marigold sold. "I think. ~ Jean Ferris,
418:It was dangerous to dream, he reminded himself. As dangerous as it was for Sleeping Beauty in her castle, where she’d fallen into dreams that had devoured her for a century. ~ Cassandra Clare,
419:Kafka’s The Castle came to mind, a book I had not read but that fell into that category of literature that culture reads on your behalf and deposits somewhere inside you. ~ Patrick McGuinness,
420:Maybe it is that if these stones speak at all, they speak true,’ she said softly. ‘They speak what will be, not what we want to hear.”
― Barbara Erskine, Sleeper's Castle ~ Barbara Erskine,
421:There were grade-schoolers in Texas who could recite the Castle Doctrine, the state’s “stand your ground” law, as easily as the pledge of allegiance. Mack’s was a textbook case. ~ Attica Locke,
422:I’ll think of you when I’m tucked up in a warm bed at Castle Araluen and you’re all out sleeping in muddy ditches and drafty barns.” A chorus of cheerful abuse met this comment, ~ John Flanagan,
423:No,"Ito said gently, "we will not be needing soldiers. Accountants will do nicely."
Mutsuhito frowned. "How does one storm a castle with accountants ?"
"One buys it, sir. ~ Natasha Pulley,
424:Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods. Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt. But there’s music in us. Hope is pushed down but the angel flies up again taking us with her. ~ Jack Gilbert,
425:The book that made a lasting impression was the one my mother gave each of us when she decided we were ready for our first "adult novel," Lucy Maud Montgomery's The Blue Castle. ~ Hallie Ephron,
426:Let him talk," said Dupin, who had not thought it necessary to reply. "Let him discourse; it will ease his conscience, I a satisfied with having defeated him in his own castle. ~ Edgar Allan Poe,
427:Madam President, speaking here in Dublin Castle it is impossible to ignore the weight of history, as it was yesterday when you and I laid wreaths at the Garden of Remembrance. ~ Queen Elizabeth II,
428:She thought she'd put up with however many years of stonewalling for a good reason, and she'd just figured out that as far as Castle Hubby went, she hadn't even crossed the moat yet. ~ Jim Shepard,
429:The April sun, weak but determined, shone through a castle window and from there squeezed itself through a small hole in the wall and placed one golden finger on the little mouse. ~ Kate DiCamillo,
430:Children make prayers so thoughtlessly, building them up like sand castles—and they are always surprised when suddenly the castle becomes real, and the iron gate grinds shut. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
431:If you remove the English army to-morrow and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle, unless you set about the organisation of the Socialist Republic your efforts would be in vain. ~ James Connolly,
432:I thought of the soul as resembling a castle, formed of a single diamond or a very transparent crystal, and containing many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila,
433:What do you think the odds are this is going to be one of those cases where the butler did it? Because I could sell that story to any magazine in the country just for the headline. ~ Richard Castle,
434:You can't very well live in a castle while your kin is on the poor side of town and barely have enough food. Some want you to get to the top and rely on you making it for them, too. ~ Martha Reeves,
435:I can't believe you blew off hunting to play housewife. I should have brought you an apron. With puppies and kitties on it even. Maybe some ribbon."~ Kendra Leigh CastleGadreel ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
436:I was a beautiful vampire princess loved, worshiped and admired by all. I lived in a luxurious gothic castle and I have no idea how I ended up at this fiberglass table with you losers. ~ Alyson Noel,
437:Delaware State has established itself as an institution of excellence in its own right and attracts a diversity of students from various races, socio-economic status and locations. ~ Michael N Castle,
438:... No, the office is one thing, and private life is another. When I go into the office, I leave the Castle behind me, and when I come into the Castle, I leave the office behind me. ~ Charles Dickens,
439:Rincewind formed a mental picture of some strange entity living in a castle made of teeth. It was the kind of mental picture you tried to forget. Unsuccessfully.
'Urgh,' he said. ~ Terry Pratchett,
440:This is a value-added college education if I have heard one described. And what is the most remarkable about Delaware State University graduates - is they just keeping giving back. ~ Michael N Castle,
441:Remember what one of our philosophers once said, 'In the human heart there is a perpetual generation of passions, such that the ruin of one is almost always the foundation of another. ~ Richard Castle,
442:In the midst of a thick forest, there was a castle that gave shelter to all travelers overtaken by night on their journey: lords and ladies, royalty and their retinue, humble wayfarers. ~ Italo Calvino,
443:It was very much a cry for democratic control at that time. Above all, breaking the accomplished power of a few people to rule the lives of everybody else. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
444:"The house in the dream, appearing like a castle with the grandeur of high ceilings, piano and tapestry, symbolized [her] self, but much was vacant and unused." ~ Susan Schwartz, Ph.D., Jungian analyst,
445:I simply can't imagine the world will ever be normal again for us. I do talk about "after the war," but it's as if I'm talking about a castle in the air, something that can never come true. ~ Anne Frank,
446:The biggest mistake of a democratic country is to underestimate the power of a democratically elected pro-fascist leader because it is always easier to destroy a castle from within! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
447:A way a lone a last a loved a long the riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. ~ James Joyce,
448:And what is the problem? It is the old problem of the anxious searcher - the mythic in the interior castle, the poet-pilgrim in a dark wood not sure how to proceed. Which way is the right way? ~ Paul Elie,
449:Every big castle was once started with a single block; despise no small beginnings. A little step taken every day builds up the hope of greater accomplishments. Do something every day! ~ Israelmore Ayivor,
450:I had roots, too, but not like that. I could be carefully dug up, and shaken loose, and transplanted into a king's castle, or a tower built of marble—unhappily, perhaps, but I could survive. ~ Naomi Novik,
451:I remember coming to this college in the 1960s as a new legislator when a road divided the campus - and it was not fully paved at that - and no wall defined the campus from the highway. ~ Michael N Castle,
452:John DeChancie is a popular author of numerous science fiction/fantasy novels including the hugely entertaining CASTLE series and STARRIGGER trilogy. He lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. ~ John DeChancie,
453:Simply by not owning three medium-sized castles in Tuscany I have saved enough money in the last forty years on insurance premiums alone to buy a medium-sized castle in Tuscany. ~ Ludwig Mies van der Rohe,
454:Fleeing the premises?" Detective Canavan echos sarcastically. "Have you been watching Castle again?"
"It's a reasonable question," I say. "And Castle's a very good show. ~ Meg Cabot,
455:Julisse and Arielle. The two remaining sisters of Rhys. I’d heard talk around the castle that they were two of the most formidable female witches of our time, but I’d never met them before. ~ Bella Forrest,
456:You're in Ireland the summer after you left college and you're drinking at a pub near the castle where every day bus loads of English and American tourists come to kiss the Blarney Stone. ~ Chuck Palahniuk,
457:We have to instill in them the skills they need to succeed at a young age and open up their imaginations to the very real opportunities they can be afforded if they put their minds to it. ~ Michael N Castle,
458:A whole castle full of damsels intent upon securing a husband?" Wesley mimicked in surprise. "Why, of course. What reasonable man would not be thrilled with such a prospect?"

-Wesley ~ Katharine Ashe,
459:I closed my eyes and lay my head against the headrest, and we sat there together for a while longer, two people lost in remembered music, half hidden in the shadow of a castle on a moonlit hill. ~ Jojo Moyes,
460:He apparently intends to pass the castle on to his eldest daughter.'
'His daughter?' This was news to Pagan.
Colin shrugged. 'They're Scots,' he said, as if that would explain it all. ~ Glynnis Campbell,
461:it is far too easy these days to drag one's neighbors into court on frivolous grounds. Half the populace is waging law against the other half. It enriches the courts but impoverishes the nation. ~ Anna Castle,
462:- Proszę państwa, jak umiera człowiek pozbawiony pociechy literatury? - zwróciłem się do Castle'a seniora.
- Są dwie możliwości - odpowiedział. - Marskość serca albo zanik systemu nerwowego ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
463:She couldn't demand that Mrs. Proust get off the bed; it wasn't her bed. It wasn't her castle. She smiled. In fact it really wasn't her problem. How nice to find a problem that wasn't yours. ~ Terry Pratchett,
464:Thus the castle of each feudal chieftain became a school of chivalry, into which any noble youth, whose parents were from poverty unable to educate him to the art of war, was readily received. ~ Horatio Alger,
465:Dear friend, You are not a freak. You are wanted. You are necessary. You are the only you there is. Don’t be afraid to leave the castle. It’s a great big world out there. Love, a fellow reader ~ Jennifer Niven,
466:Doors, doors, doors everywhere, and all locked and bolted. In no place save from the windows in the castle walls is there an available exit. The castle is a veritable prison, and I am a prisoner! ~ Bram Stoker,
467:Evolution intended us to be travelers….Settlement for any length of time, in cave or castle, has at best been…a drop in the ocean of evolutionary time.” —Bruce Chatwin, ANATOMY OF RESTLESSNESS ~ Gloria Steinem,
468:He’s my bodyguard – that’s not changing.
It’s not.
But I can’t even think about anyone else. He hasn’t just pitched a tent in my brain and dick. He’s built a fucking stone castle. ~ Krista Ritchie,
469:It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me - out of college and all - Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
470:It was a troubled night, the last they spent in the castle. Not many slept. But the lord of it had long understood that what could cease to be his never had been his, and slept like a child. ~ George MacDonald,
471:Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. ~ J K Rowling,
472:And we are made different. On the instant. What we know, what we were, is banished by that instant, razed like a castle under siege, and nothing is recognizable is left. The world is unmade. ~ Jennifer Roberson,
473:From its place of concealment the Grail still calls seekers to the quest and knights still set out upon the way to the castle that is difficult to find, where the treasure is preserved. ~ Marie Louise von Franz,
474:After a hard day in the fields, his men would strip naked and plunge into the bitterly cold loch, he among them. Even at eighteen, he could see his ancestors had bequeathed him more than a castle. ~ Eloisa James,
475:Nothing made sense anyway. What was another few minutes in a massive stone castle at the center of a Goblin Kingdom going to hurt? She moved toward the couches. “Cream, no sugar please. ~ Heather Killough Walden,
476:I cannot leave this castle, Olivière! I do not know one person in this village from the next. I blink and they die. I die and they would not know—they could not imagine the depth of the pain I feel. ~ Amy McNulty,
477:How could Belle, a lonely little bookworm of a country girl, ever come from someone so great that she meted out curses and blessings like candy and then took over an entire castle with her presence? ~ Liz Braswell,
478:It has been suggested that hanging out with a dust bunny who carries a purse might have a negative impact on my image as a hard-core crime fighter."
"Don't be ridiculous. It's a very nice clutch. ~ Jayne Castle,
479:Soon he would be married and no longer living at Hagenheim Castle. He would forget her, and she would forget him. But if the pain in his chest was any indication, it might be a painful process. ~ Melanie Dickerson,
480:These fallen heroes represent the character of a nation who has a long history of patriotism and honor - and a nation who has fought many battles to keep our country free from threats of terror. ~ Michael N Castle,
481:You and I certainly had out issues, Cooper. But I never, for a moment, doubted that you could be trusted. My father told me once that your word was good amber. I have no reason to believe otherwise. ~ Jayne Castle,
482:If our faith rests on God’s veracity, it has an absolute and eternally unshakable foundation. If it rests on our own mind, it is as secure as sand. Does your faith look like a castle or a sand castle? ~ Peter Kreeft,
483:The castle will seem very quiet and strange without you here. The stone stairs and the chapel will miss your footstep, the gateway will will miss your laughter, and the wall will miss your shadow. ~ Philippa Gregory,
484:The convent of the sacred order of the Blessed Ladies of the Lobster had once been a dank and dark medieval castle but was now, after a lick of paint and a few throw pillows, a dank and dark convent. ~ Jasper Fforde,
485:were in town. At dawn, NBC, along with the rest of the baseball world, awakened to the irresistible story of Joe Castle and his stunning debut in Philadelphia. Suddenly the biggest game of the day was ~ John Grisham,
486:What a fool, quoth he, am I, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle. ~ John Bunyan,
487:When writing down a plan, I suggest numbering the steps. But just in case your plan falls into enemy hands, make sure you number them in the wrong order." - The Hero's Guide to Storming the Castle ~ Christopher Healy,
488:Through the years you, the Delaware State family and your predecessors, have faced many challenges. You worked through them with fierce determination and good will, and you have made great progress. ~ Michael N Castle,
489:Typically, historical black colleges and universities like Delaware State, attracted students who were raised in an environment where going to college wasn't the next natural step after high school. ~ Michael N Castle,
490:Flaevynn wants only to take Treoir so she can bathe in the pool of immortality that runs beneath the castle.” – Cathbad
“Can she swim? Maybe she’ll drown before the immortality kicks in.” – Kizira ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
491:Now and then they would tell old legends and fairy tales about the castle, the way people always do about old castles. But they would be just that: fairy tales.

Nothing more, and nothing less. ~ Mechthild Gl ser,
492:She popped the tomato in her mouth and gave him a sly smile. “I’m not saying you’re wrong . . .” “When you say things like that to me, I call it a Kardashian. Know why? Because I’m looking for the but. ~ Richard Castle,
493:She's a former librarian,' Heat said. 'She doesn't have a bad side.'

'You obviously haven't known enough librarians. I wouldn't wish a pissed-off librarian on the worst cretin at Rikers Island. ~ Richard Castle,
494:Belle, so brave and noble—willing to take her father’s place as a prisoner in the castle dungeon. What sort of woman would do that—give up her life so easily, sacrificing her freedom for her father’s? ~ Serena Valentino,
495:I was shortly again at the castle, and the Princess gave me her hand to kiss and then brought her children, the young princes and princesses, and we played together, as if we had known each other for years. ~ Max Muller,
496:Peet, Podo, and the Igibys hurried along the bridges as the storm unleashed its stinging rain, and they were soaked through as they climbed up through the trapdoor and gratefully entered Peet’s castle. ~ Andrew Peterson,
497:This, he thought, must be how dogs feel in those quiet moments before the earthquake hits, when they alone know the devastation of what's coming. When they alone know that everything is about to change. ~ Richard Castle,
498:After about half an hour, the front doors to the castle creaked open. I looked down and watched as a lone figure stepped out onto the icy entrance steps and sat down. Breathing heavily. Head in his hands. ~ Bella Forrest,
499:Retaliation is not the answer. You're going to have to deal with mean backstabbing girls your whole life, you need to learn to be smart enough to rise above, okay?

Did you kick her ass? Good girl! ~ Richard Castle,
500:There are some people men and women both who will never be happy no matter what the circumstances they find themselves. There's not enough money, no Castle grand enough, no life easy enough to content them. ~ Lynn Kurland,
501:I'll say something else about Christine O'Donnell. You ready? I'd rather look at her than Mike Castle. I think she's kind of cute. I think she's kind of refreshing. She's a conservative. What's the problem? ~ Rush Limbaugh,
502:This is the land of Narnia,' said the Faun, 'where we are now; all that lies between that lamppost and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the eastern sea. And you-you have come from the wild woods of the west? ~ C S Lewis,
503:Copyin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. Go on!” Malfoy didn’t move. ~ J K Rowling,
504:In my memory of those dark winter nights, my father and I own the whole science building, and we walk about like a duke and his sovereign prince, too preoccupied in our castle to bother about our frozen duchy. ~ Hope Jahren,
505:My father firmly embraced the Ralph Kramden philosophy: he was king of his Levittown castle. He worked hard, and his family deferred to his wishes. Except me. I did not defer and was disciplined accordingly. ~ Bill O Reilly,
506:The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. ~ J K Rowling,
507:You were heavily armed with faith, and that made your heart a castle. My heart, by contrast, is an abandoned house whose windows are shattered and doors unhinged. Ghosts play inside it, and the winds wail. As ~ Sinan Antoon,
508:I'm not an educated man, but I've read some history. Every kingdom comes up bloody. Every castle is built on a pile of bones. When I came out here, LA was nothing. Back east I was a gangster, out here I'm god. ~ Mickey Cohen,
509:Thanks to a lot of people, not just myself, Whale Rider had an amazing impact emotionally, and people remember it. I count myself very lucky that all those doors were unlocked, I just had to open them. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
510:He described how, as a boy of 14, his dad had been down the mining pit, his uncle had been down the pit, his brother had been down the pit, and of course he would go down the pit. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
511:Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I’m afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don’t want Harry dead. But I won’t deny that I am a werewolf. ~ J K Rowling,
512:Star and Ariel looked at each other, aghast. The coven was about to burn two kids from the Castle. What would the Queen have to say about that? It would be goodbye to their free food at Wizard Sandwiches for sure. ~ Angie Sage,
513:The narrow path had opened up suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. ~ J K Rowling,
514:And as the years flowed by, some villagers told travelers of a beast and a beauty who lived in the castle and could be seen walking on the battlements, and others told of two beauties, and others, of two beasts. ~ Emma Donoghue,
515:Ideas were growing in all directions and dimensions; they were becoming a sculpture, or a castle. And then everyone left her, to return to their own affairs; and she was alone, and empty and unbelieving again. ~ Kristin Cashore,
516:least, that’s what it looked like. A roped-off room in a castle somewhere, a room made entirely of blocks of stone, icy and cold, even though a fire burned low in the hearth. A room where doomed queens went to die. ~ Laura Ruby,
517:The big knight fell heavily to the ground, and lay there, as nearly dead as possible. His servants came running from the castle and took him in. He got better in the end, but nobody cared much about that. ~ Roger Lancelyn Green,
518:Oh," said Castle. "Him." He shrugged. "People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
519:The edifice of science not only requires material, but also a plan. Without the material, the plan alone is but a castle in the air-a mere possibility; whilst the material without a plan is but useless matter. ~ Dmitri Mendeleev,
520:The year since then had been peaceful and prosperous, and in some ways the mood was lighter in the castle with Josh and Poppy installed as King and Queen in place of Quentin and Julia, Fillory’s brooders-in-chief. ~ Lev Grossman,
521:What a fool I have been to lie in a stinking dungeon like this, when I could just as well walk free! I have a key in my pocket next to my heart called Promise that will, I am sure, open any lock in Doubting Castle. ~ John Bunyan,
522:What will we do first?” Tabitha asked her. They were soaring high above the castle, descending in lazy loops as Tabitha slid from one warm updraft to another. Tabitha’s starlings glided around them like a halo. ~ Austin J Bailey,
523:I notice the silvery hair at his temples with a tinge of sadness. Why do parents grow old? Life is a castle of lies slowly dismantled by the passage of time. I regret not spending more time looking at the people I love. ~ Shan Sa,
524:NIGHTTIME IS different. Things are otherwise when the world is black. Insecurities and hurts, anxieties and fears grow teeth at night. Particularly when one is sleeping in a strange, old castle with a storm outside. ~ Kate Morton,
525:They were often the first students in their family to go to college and the very idea of higher education was still foreign to them. They had to make a conscious and often difficult decision to come to college. ~ Michael N Castle,
526:1) Everyone nodded in silent agreement,
and then one by one
disappeared into the castle’s dark shadows
where night met blackened air
and creepy things
whispered the most haunting words into the wind. ~ Kenya Wright,
527:Maya Angelou, the famous African American poet, historian, and civil rights activist who is hailed be many as one of the great voices of contemporary literature, believes a struggle only makes a person stronger. ~ Michael N Castle,
528:You had a magic mirror that let you see life outside your tiny world. Your castle. I had books. Reading them is like traveling to other places. Being other people. Living other lives. It made life far less...lonely. ~ Liz Braswell,
529:These ivy league students are in the upper echelon of the college boards and had great opportunity in front of them regardless of where they go to college. Its in their very nature and it is something they expect. ~ Michael N Castle,
530:They poured out the lower doors and windows of the castle, howling to the skies. They evolved into a kind of cohesive moving liquid, flowing down the hillside as one silvered blob, like mercury on a scientist’s palm. ~ Gail Carriger,
531:People either build a castle or a dungeon. The former by their virtues, pull people into positive edifices with gainful impression. The later by their vices, push people into negative huts with painful oppression. ~ Israelmore Ayivor,
532:I moved another step forward. "Do you know how much of my blood is soaked into the stone floor of that castle? I'd own the fucking place if blood were coin! I put myself to sleep once by counting the drops as they hit. ~ S L Jesberger,
533:Oniton, like herself, was imperfect. Its apple-trees were stunted, its castle ruinous. It, too, had suffered in the border warfare between the Anglo-Saxon and the Kelt, between things as they are and as they ought to be. ~ E M Forster,
534:hoped she did not bear a striking resemblance to a wad of dryer lint that had been struck by lightning. The look was adorable on a dust bunny, but her own hair standing on end would not make a good impression on clients. ~ Jayne Castle,
535:When Myst had been in a Horde prison, the Forbearer rebels took the castle, and one of their generals had freed her to make love to her. Before the Valkyrie could rescue her, things had gotten out of hand in a dank cell. ~ Kresley Cole,
536:A castle sat in the background, turrets flying a minuscule emblem in the foreground sat a lady, her skirts adorned with picked blossoms "A castle," Helena murmured, "fit for a princess, except that the prince has escaped. ~ Karen Ranney,
537:And all along the corridor the statues and suits of armor jumped down from their plinths, and from the echoing crashes from the floors above and below, Harry knew that their fellows throughout the castle had done the same. ~ J K Rowling,
538:I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all some day. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
539:Everything is fine, everything is just fine. It's ordinary. The problem is I don't want ordinary I want..."
"Magic?"
"Yeah, you know what the problem is, we just aren't in love, neither one of us wants to admit it. ~ Richard Castle,
540:Sure, guess I could give you a bullwhip and a fedora. We’d market you as Indiana Bones. Or maybe go sci-fi. You sorta look like that guy who roamed outer space everybody’s so crazy about.” “Malcolm Reynolds?” asked Rook. ~ Richard Castle,
541:The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived. ~ J K Rowling,
542:We dare not harm this little girl," he said to them, "for she is protected by the Power of Good, and that is greater than the Power of Evil. All we can do is carry her to the castle of the Wicked Witch and leave her there. ~ L Frank Baum,
543:Yet despite all our attachment, we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes, let it dissolve back into the sea. ~ Pema Ch dr n,
544:And, long since ashore with his men and his booty, Crawford of Lymond, man of wit and crooked felicities, bred to luxury and heir to a fortune, rode off serenely to Midculter to break into his new sister-in-law’s castle. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
545:Oh, a very sorry people, yes,
Did I find here.
Oh, they had no music,
And they had no beer.
And, oh, everywhere
Where they tried to perch
Belonged to Castle Sugar, Incorporated,
Or the Catholic church. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
546:Morgan and Catcher said their manly hellos - consisting of a symbolic head bob from Catcher (of the "You're in my lair now" variety) and a responding nod from Morgan (of the "You are clearly the king of this castle" variety). ~ Chloe Neill,
547:Never underestimate the importance of keeping your vows. Just how a castle will protect the king from being attacked by the enemy, the vows will protect your mind from being attacked by your mental afflictions. ~ Chamtrul Rinpoche, #index,
548:I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle, - something heroic or wonderful, that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
549:That Wall Street has gone down because of this is justice ... They built a castle to rip people off. Not once in all these years have I come across a person inside a big Wall Street firm who was having a crisis of conscience. ~ Steve Eisman,
550:The castle itself was a huge brick pile, built in the days of William III., which, though they were grand days for the construction of the constitution, were not very grand for architecture of a more material description. ~ Anthony Trollope,
551:I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle - something heroic, or wonderful - that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
552:No man knows where the Castle of King Death is. All men and women, boys and girls, and even little wee children should so live that when they have to enter the Castle and see the grim King, they may not fear to behold his face. ~ Bram Stoker,
553:own personal screening process as well.  Every person that entered the Castle was a candidate to fight in the coming war against Simon Sterling.   Three times a week Howard met in the conference room with Richard Dupree, ~ Richard Stephenson,
554:Let them storm on. In fury let them rage!
Firm is this castle, and beneath its ruins
I will be buried ere I yield to them.
—Johanna, answer me! only be mine,
And I will shield thee 'gainst a world in arms. ~ Friedrich Schiller,
555:More than men had died at Lincoln. It seemed to Stephen that reality was a casualty, too, for nothing made sense anymore. What was he doing here in the solar of Lincoln Castle, bleeding all over the Earl of Chester’s wife? ~ Sharon Kay Penman,
556:With anger simmering beneath his skin like it hadn't in two and a half years, Vitor went to the drawing room. He was not a murderer, but if any other man in the castle touched her, he might very well become one.

-Vitor ~ Katharine Ashe,
557:By climbing a steeper road, the value and appreciation Delaware State students took and continue to take from their education and their experiences is just as great, if not greater, than students attending ivy league schools. ~ Michael N Castle,
558:Hospitality, or flinging wide the door to friends and wayfarers alike, was once important, back in a world without motels or safety nets, where a friend might find his castle burnt down or a wayfarer find bandits on his trail. ~ Barbara Holland,
559:I decorated my house like a medieval gothic castle, European-style. Chandeliers and red velvet curtains. My bedroom is pink and black, my bathroom is totally Hello Kitty, I have a massive pink couch and a big antique gold cross. ~ Avril Lavigne,
560:I’d never needed a romantic fairytale of princes and castles because I always knew my prince was Colt and I didn’t need a castle. I’d be satisfied anywhere, a crackerbox house or a cardboard box, just as long as Colt was there. ~ Kristen Ashley,
561:If there were such a goddess in a book of olden tales, she would be the villain, tormenting the innocent from her high castle. The people of Weep were innocent—most of them—and she did torment them, but… what choice did she have? ~ Laini Taylor,
562:When you meditate you feel joy, harmony, peace, stillness, ecstasy, laughter, certainty, courage, strength, awareness and immortality. In the beginning you will feel these things vaguely, a distant knocking at your castle door. ~ Frederick Lenz,
563:Annoyed?” said Sophie. “Why should I be annoyed? Someone only filled the castle with rotten aspic, and deafened everyone in Porthaven, and scared Calcifer to a cinder, and broke a few hundred hearts. Why should that annoy me? ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
564:Despite his awkwardness Alec couldn’t deny it felt good to be in receipt of spoiling. “I’m buying our house, no arguments. Something understated, like a castle with a moat and a speedboat so you can get to the front door quickly! ~ Zathyn Priest,
565:A heart as hard as granite was slowly transformed to a heart ready to five and receive compassion. The story of the prince does that to men. It breaks them down, removes the rubble, and builds a castle where there once was a prison. ~ Chuck Black,
566:A heart as hard as granite was slowly transformed to a heart ready to give and receive compassion. The story of the prince does that to men. It breaks them down, removes the rubble, and builds a castle where there once was a prison. ~ Chuck Black,
567:This is not a Scooby-Doo episode, Gus said.
Granted, our current adventure may lack the mastery and grace of classic stories like 'Hassle in the Castle' or 'Foul Play in Funland', Shawn said. But as I've always said, aim high. ~ William Rabkin,
568:He surveyed the dimly lit space. She’d lured him directly into a large dungeon cell. And one he recognized, because he’d kept prisoners here when he was master and king of Castle Tornin. She’s trapped me in my own goddamned dungeon. ~ Kresley Cole,
569:I moved another step forward. "Do you know how much of my blood is soaked into the stone floor of that castle? I'd own the fucking place if blood were coin! I put myself to sleep once by counting the drops as they hit." Kymber Oryx ~ S L Jesberger,
570:If she could only find a well-educated, Shakespeare-quoting bad boy who still had a thing for sexy tatoos and maybe a mild leather fetish, she might at least have a shot at avoiding her probable future as a crazy old cat lady. ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
571:Right,” I muttered to myself, impaling the tiny positive-mental-attitude goblin who lived inside the deep, dark, super-black castle fortress of my soul. It was roommates with my silent love for The Sound of Music and cat memes. But ~ Shayne Silvers,
572:It's sad when you see most of your friends in the business gone, like Tommy Cooper, Frankie Howard, Eric Morecambe, Roy Castle, Les Dawson. They were very dear to me. You no longer have the chance to bump into them at a celebrity do. ~ Bruce Forsyth,
573:Rook gave Heat and Ochoa each a bottle of water, and both chugged. 'While you were in there, I went in the pet shop and got everyone out. Ever see Pee-wee's Big Adventure? I was this close to running out with two handfuls of snakes. ~ Richard Castle,
574:Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me! ~ Jim Henson,
575:I have never consciously exploited the fact that I am a woman. I wouldn't dare try that even if I knew how to. I have too much respect for my male colleagues to think they would be particualrly impressed. ~ Barbara Castle Baroness Castle of Blackburn,
576:It is a kingship grand that all of us build, every day of our meager lives, and it is a castle made of sand. Every wrong righted seems to bring another misdeed tumbling down upon our heads. But I for one will keep building such a kingdom. ~ Ned Hayes,
577:We write to expose the unexposed. If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. The writer's job is to turn the unspeakable into words - not just into any words, but if we can, into rhythm and blues. ~ Anne Lamott,
578:Upon arriving, meeting their teachers and signing up for classes, these students began to realize that their attendance at Delaware State University was not a goal achieved, but rather a dream being sewn - a first step, if you will. ~ Michael N Castle,
579:What is more dramatic, even romantic, than the tumbled towers of lower Manhattan, rising suddenly to the clouds like a magic castle girdled by water? Its very touch of jumbled jaggedness, its towering-sided canyons, are its magnificence. ~ Jane Jacobs,
580:And despite being seventeen - Hattori Mariko knew her place in life. She would marry Minamoto Raiden. Her parents would have the prestige of a daughter in the Heian Castle. And Mariko would be the only one to know the stain on that honor. ~ Ren e Ahdieh,
581:A rising tower of wood and needles and branches and great slabs of bark that has grown for hundreds of years. An impossible castle made from air and sunlight, fixed in place by the power of photosynthesis and chlorophyll. Magic. With lights. ~ Ned Hayes,
582:Castle Rock Middle School was a frowning pile of red brick standing between the Post Office and the Library, a holdover from the time when the town elders didn’t feel entirely comfortable with a school unless it looked like a reformatory. ~ Stephen King,
583:Rawr! I’m a duke of Hell, bitches!’ and then he was like, ‘This is my turf! Welcome to Castle Cocksucker!’ and then he was all, ‘You’re all gonna die!’ and then it was, ‘Fuck, this sword hurts!’ and finally he was like, ‘Oh fuck, I’m dead! ~ Elliott Kay,
584:Sugar, flour, and cinnamon won't make a house a home,
So bake your walls of gingerbread and sweeten them with bone.
Eggs and milk and whipping cream, butter in the churn,
Bake our queen a castle in the hopes that she'll return. ~ Seanan McGuire,
585:Who needs a castle? Surely not a courageous man! Who needs a guard? Surely not a brave man! Who needs a gun? Surely not a strong man! Cowards need castles, they need guards and guns, simply because they are weak and chicken hearted! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
586:You know how they say a man's house is his castle? I think for a woman, it's her body. I feel so strongly about a woman's right to choose. This is my Zionism. It's not a "right" any more than it's a right to breathe, to take in oxygen. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
587:The Encyclopedia Qwghlmiana had made much use of the definite article—the Town, the Castle, the Hotel, the Pub, the Pier. Waterhouse stops in at the Shithouse to deal with some aftershocks of the sea voyage, and then walks up the Street ~ Neal Stephenson,
588:Are you ready ?" she asked, spinning the chamber.
Kell gazed through the gate at the waiting castle. "No."
At that, she offered him the sharpest edge of a grin.
"Good," she said. "The ones who think they're ready always end up dead. ~ V E Schwab,
589:in the water is a woman of such beauty that her skin is paler than the white marble and her hair is darker than the night skies. He falls in love with her at once, and she with him, and he takes her to the castle and makes her his wife. ~ Philippa Gregory,
590:I saw at once that I had only to rise in my machine, fix my eyes upon the castle, fly over it and speed directly across to the French coast. It seemed so easy that it looked like a cross-country flight. I am glad I thought so and felt so. ~ Harriet Quimby,
591:Once upon a time," Gemma began, the older two girls whispering the opening with her, "which is all times and no times but not the very best of times,there was a castle. And in it lived a king who wanted nothing more in the world than a child. ~ Jane Yolen,
592:Really," Bacon said, his words gaining speed, "it is far too easy these days to drag one's neighbors into court on frivolous grounds. Half the populace is waging law against the other half. It enriches the courts but impoverishes the nation. ~ Anna Castle,
593:After that, he tried to go upstairs through the broom cupboard, and then the yard. This seemed to puzzle him a little. But finally he discovered the stairs, all except the bottom on, and fell up them on his face. The whole castle shook. ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
594:And there's a woman dressed in white, who's nice to hear, and soft to touch, and she whispers, 'Colette, I love you very much' I have a place where no one is ost, and where no one cries, because crying is not aloud, on my Castle In the Clouds ~ Victor Hugo,
595:The allure is a passage behind the parapet of a castle wall. Great for defense when the enemy is approaching. You know you’re safe on the allure.” She tucks her head beneath my chin, twining her hand with mine. “Like we’re safe with each other. ~ Nina Lane,
596:This provision (the 4th Amendment) speaks for itself. Its plain object is to secure the perfect enjoyment of that great right of the common law, that a man's house shall be his own castle, privileged against all civil and military intrusion. ~ Joseph Story,
597:We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Shirley Jackson) - Your Highlight on page 19 | Location 284-284 | Added on Saturday, January 24, 2015 3:56:38 AM I hated them anyway, and wondered why it had been worth while creating them in the first place. ~ Anonymous,
598:What I really tried to do with Helen was make her show this sad side of her. She was married off at 16, was so young and living in this castle that can't leave because of how she looks, and married to a man she hates and three times her age. ~ Diane Kruger,
599:A man’s home is his castle, but a woman’s body has never been wholly her own. Historically, it’s belonged to her nation, her community, her father, her family, her husband—in 1973, when Roe was decided, marital rape was legal in every state. ~ Katha Pollitt,
600:At three in the morning the gaudy paint is off that old whore, the world, and she has no nose and a glass eye. Gaiety becomes hollow and brittle, as in Poe's castle surrounded by the Red Death. Horror is destroyed by boredom. Love is a dream. ~ Stephen King,
601:I know who did it. “It’s 3XK. He’s alive. He’s alive!” I place the empty bag of popcorn on my coffee table and stand up at the precise moment Castle and Detective Beckett collectively realize Jerry Tyson, AKA major bad guy “3XK,” is alive. ~ Meredith Schorr,
602:I laughed. " So, let me get this straight. You slayed the dragon, jumped over the moat, climbed the tower of the evil King's castle, saved the princes, and rode off with her into sunset aka Shadow land. Why, you're my knight in shining armour. ~ Jayde Scott,
603:Since God has given it such great dignity, permitting it to wander at will through the rooms of the castle, from the lowest to the highest. Let it not force itself to remain for very long in the same mansion, even the one of self-knowledge. ~ Teresa of vila,
604:Thanks to TripAdvisor, a formerly sleepy spot like the Magic Castle Hotel in Los Angeles—ranked number one in the city—is, says Hanson, “able to generate rates and occupancy levels that from a hotel-analyst point of view are quite extraordinary. ~ Anonymous,
605:The day of the countess's famous harvest party began with a driving rain that hammered down on all the ancient von Lingenfels castle's sore spots—springing leaks, dampening floors, and turning its yellow façade a slick, beetle-like black. ~ Jessica Shattuck,
606:.... Anon from the castle walls The crescent banner falls, And the crowd beholds instead, Like a portent in the sky, Iskander's banner fly, The Black Eagle with double head. And shouts ascend on high .....'' Long live Scanderbeg. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
607:Their perception, however, may still be triggered by the presence of aesthetic conditioners or topoi, from whose influence virtually nobody is free. For instance, an old, desolated castle predisposes the visitor to be aware of moving shadows. ~ Edgar Cantero,
608:The upper classes of this country raped this country. You fucked people. You built a castle to rip people off. Not once in all these years have I come across a person inside a big Wall Street firm who was having a crisis of conscience. Nobody ~ Michael Lewis,
609:And though age and infirmity overtake me, and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life, and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening's twilight find me gentle still. ~ Max Ehrmann,
610:I undertook to explain the deeper significance of the cat’s cradle, since Newt seemed disinclined to go through that song and dance again. And Castle nodded sagely. “So this is a picture of the meaninglessness of it all! I couldn’t agree more. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
611:So I nodded, which Fred took as an indication to continue. “Everything in the theater and the army was in chaos. Iraq exploded in violence. I was the deputy commandant at the Castle, and got overnight orders to proceed to Iraq on the next flight. ~ Brian Haig,
612:when paying more than $1,000 a day to write the chapter in a suite of an old hotel down the street from a Hogwarts-style castle, mustering the energy to begin and sustain this work is easier than if you were instead in a distracting home office. ~ Cal Newport,
613:While hope was a much-needed commodity around the castle, what he was doing went beyond good leadership – it was a blatant disregard of the reality. There are limits to faith, and he shamelessly crossed them and never looked over his shoulder. ~ Terry Mancour,
614:But I wasn't happy... when I heard you two had assaulted Castle Macindaw with just thirty men,' [said Halt]. 'Thirty-three,' mumbled Horace... The Ranger gave him a withering look. 'Oh, pardon me... three more men does make a lot of difference. ~ John Flanagan,
615:I’m sure I’ve read too many fairy tales. The prince is supposed to slay the dragon, defeat the villain, and marry the servant girl, and carry her off to his castle.” “Fairy tales are best read as entertainment,” Harry said. “Not as a guide to life. ~ Anonymous,
616:Meanwhile the castle rolled. Great walls collapsed, one into another.

The colours of the tracts were horrible. The vilest green. The most hideous purple. Here the foul shimmering of rotting fungi – there a tract of books alive with mice. ~ Mervyn Peake,
617:Off Castle Garden, a mile to the southeast, near the western edge of Governors Island, a ship lay resting through a foggy spring night before the long and arduous trip back to the old world—whether Riga, Naples, or Constantinople is not certain. ~ Mark Helprin,
618:The next morning dawned cool and clear. The early mist had lifted, leaving a thick layer of dew clinging to the hillsides beyond the castle, shimmering in the morning sun like faerie dust sprinkled over a lush bed of emerald.
Like his eyes. ~ Monica McCarty,
619:Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution. ~ J K Rowling,
620:When I portray Stabler, I have to shave every day and cut my hair every week! And then, I really like to change my looks for films like 'Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle' where I have the pleasure of playing the ugliest man in the world. ~ Christopher Meloni,
621:I moved another step forward. "Do you know how much of my blood is soaked into the stone floor of that castle? I'd own the fucking place if blood were coin! I put myself to sleep once by counting the drops as they hit." Kymber Oryx in Silverlight ~ S L Jesberger,
622:He never quite comes back all the way, I don’t think—lost there in his head for the rest of the evening. He’s wonderfully quiet, and lonely. Like someone shut up in a castle. But he lets me in. Me and the trouble I am. I think I’ll just appreciate that. ~ J A Rock,
623:Her smile was provoking. Where had she learned to smile like that? The woman who arrived at his castle wouldn't smile like that. She'd been a furled rosebud, fragrant with potential. This Sidonie was a full-blown flower, sweet-scented and luscious. ~ Anna Campbell,
624:If I traveled all my life And I never get to stop and settle down Long as I have you by my side There's a roof above and good walls all around You're my castle, you're my cabin and my instant pleasure dome I need you in my house 'cause you're my home. ~ Billy Joel,
625:I want Prince Charming to ride up on a white horse and carry me off to his castle. The only difference between me and other girls is once I get there, I want him to bend me over the throne and pull my hair while he fucks me hard and calls me names. ~ Stylo Fantome,
626:I want to build a tower around you, and then build a castle around that tower, and then dig a moat around that castle, and then I want to guard you like a dragon. Burn anyone who tries to hurt you into ash and then scorch those ashes a second time. ~ Sierra Simone,
627:The original fairy tale was about the youngest sister going into a room in the castle and finding all the bodies of the wives that came before her - she is confronted with truth, thinking about how often we think we know people and we really don't. ~ Alice Hoffman,
628:The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
629:But I wasn't happy... when I heard you two had assaulted Castle Macindaw with just thirty men,' [said Halt].
'Thirty-three,' mumbled Horace...
The Ranger gave him a withering look. 'Oh, pardon me... three more men does make a lot of difference. ~ John Flanagan,
630:Existential anxiety of doubt drives the person toward the creation of certitude of systems of meaning, which are supported by tradition and authority. Neurotic anxiety builds a narrow castle of certitude which can be defended with the utmost certainty. ~ Paul Tillich,
631:Mr. Tall, blond and delicious?” She’s a huge fan of Gabriel’s. Maybe it’s because he kissed her hand, or because he showed her nothing but courtesy during that weekend in the castle. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because she knows I’m in love with him. ~ Magda Alexander,
632:And the university's reputation will only continue to grow as stories like Elaine's are spread. Delaware State University's motto 'a past to honor, a future to insure,' couldn't be any more fitting for this transitional period you are going through. ~ Michael N Castle,
633:I had the view of a castle of romance inhabited by a rosy spirit, such a place as would somehow, for diversion of the young idea, take all colour out of story-books and fairy-tales. Was n't it just a story-book over which I had fallen a-doze and a-dream? ~ Henry James,
634:Of course, The voice in my head laughs sadly. Your path always led here, no matter what. I was made to marry the Calore heir. Physically made. Mentally made. Constructed. Like a castle, or a tomb. My life has never been my own, and it never will be. ~ Victoria Aveyard,
635:So, you’ll be heading back to Castle Araluen tomorrow?” Halt asked. Gilan regarded him, head cocked to one side. “That’s what it says here,” he said, tapping the dispatch. “But how could you have known that?” Halt smiled. “Just a lucky guess,” he said. ~ John Flanagan,
636:A fief, the elder Hosokawa had advised, was like a castle wall built of many rocks. A rock that could not be cut to fit in comfortably with the others would weaken the whole structure, even though the rock itself might be of admirable size and quality. ~ Eiji Yoshikawa,
637:I can only tell where I feel most at home, which is in the erosional landscape of the red rock desert of southern Utah, where the Colorado River cuts through sandstone and the geologic history of the Earth is exposed: our home in Castle Valley. ~ Terry Tempest Williams,
638:I stand and brush the tears from my eyes. The hen is gone, and the harp that was my mother’s, and all of our gold; my husband is gone, too. The castle I shared with him is an empty shell now, robbed of everything that mattered—but I have one last use for ~ Marie Brennan,
639:Merlin’s beard, Harry, you made me jump,” said Slughorn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. “How did you get out of the castle?” “I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors,” said Harry cheerfully, and was delighted to see Slughorn scowl. ~ J K Rowling,
640:The sleeping castle is that ultimate abyss to which the descending consciousness submerges in dream, where the individual life is on the point of dissolving into undifferentiated energy: and it would be death to dissolve; yet death, also, to lack the fire. ~ JC, THWATF,
641:With characteristic exuberance Tom named this curiously constructed
house Castel des Tours saunz Nowmbre, which means the Castle of
Innumerable Towers. David Montefiore had counted the innumerable
towers in 1764. There were fourteen of them. ~ Susanna Clarke,
642:Kami closed her latest book with a slam. She did not know why the townspeople had not risen up against the Lynburns years ago, frankly. Whatever happened to the folksy and charming tradition of storming the castle with burning torches and pitchforks? ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,
643:No. But if it’s important for you to see him, perhaps I could escort you to the Queen of Hearts’ castle. I’ll have the royal guards arrange a carriage whenever you’re ready. It’s just two miles west of here,” Brandon said, staring at me intently. I ~ Rachel Ren e Russell,
644:Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the sky. ~ Bram Stoker,
645:The clouds behind the castle darkened and rolled, embracing the mountain and the white towers. And as the princess became more animated, the clouds rolled faster and faster. They twisted and deepened in color until a deafening crack sliced through the air. ~ Brittney Joy,
646:Westover Hall looked like an evil knight’s castle. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the grey churning ocean on the other. ~ Rick Riordan,
647:Each county has usually some family, or personage, supposed to have been favoured or plagued, especially by the phantoms, as the Hackets of Castle Hacket, Galway, who had for their ancestor a fairy, or John-o'-Daly of Lisadell, Sligo, who wrote "Eilleen Aroon, ~ W B Yeats,
648:Recognizing the structure of your psychology doesn't mean you can easily rebuild it. The Chamber of Unreasonable Guilt is part of my mental architecture, and I doubt that I will ever be able to renovate that particular room in this strange castle that is me. ~ Dean Koontz,
649:During the days of segregation, there was not a place of higher learning for African Americans. They were simply not welcome in many of the traditional schools. And from this backward policy grew the network of historical black colleges and universities. ~ Michael N Castle,
650:Merlin’s beard, Harry, you made me jump,” said Slughorn, stopping dead in his tracks and looking wary. “How did you get out of the castle?”
“I think Filch must’ve forgotten to lock the doors,” said Harry cheerfully, and was delighted to see Slughorn scowl. ~ J K Rowling,
651:It was in Warwick Castle that I came across the curious stranger whom I am going to talk about. He attracted me by three things: his candid simplicity, his marvelous familiarity with ancient armor, and the restfulness of his company--for he did all the talking. ~ Mark Twain,
652:Oh, Mistress!" Hob cried; he found that he was panting as though he had been running up a hill. "Then we are, we are trapped in this castle! With, with that thing!"

Molly's head came up.

"Nay, she said. "It is trapped in this castle with me. ~ Douglas Nicholas,
653:Your private life should be private. I reckon that's a good thing that you talk about your work and you talk about what you're doing, but without having to go into how your brother's been and how your mum's been because none of that's really relevant. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
654:He remembered waking with this same anxious amazement once as a boy, the first time he had dreamed of flying. He had jumped off a rooftop and sailed with outspread arms into a castle courtyard. And he had found out that if he wanted to fly he first had to jump. ~ Nina George,
655:And now, Your Majesty," said Strange, "I think it is time we returned to the Castle. You and I, Your Majesty, are a British King and a British magician. Though Great Britain may desert us, we have no right to desert Great Britain. She may have need of us yet. ~ Susanna Clarke,
656:She was married for seven years to a concrete castle king. She said she wanted to learn to play the guitar and to hear her children sing. So I'd show up about once a week in my faded tight-legged jeans with a backlog full of hobo stories and dilapidated dreams. ~ Harry Chapin,
657:But the boy was there, and he was looking at her. That was when Yorda understood what was drawing out her memories of the castle into the boy. It was him. He wanted to know its dark past. He wanted to know everything. No one could stop this. Not even the queen. ~ Miyuki Miyabe,
658:Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great.
You have no power over me ~ A C H Smith,
659:Above the plains up on the hill there stood a castle bold

A gleaming palace made of white, a pillar to behold

The horsemen lived in service to the castle and the crown

But the knights rose up and killed the kings

And it all burned down. ~ Ally Carter,
660:And if I vas to point at a castle on a towering crag and say 'Yonder is...zer castle' a volf would be bound to howl mournfully. In zer old country, zer scenery is psychotropic and knows vot is expected of it. Here, alas, people just look at you in a funny vay. ~ Terry Pratchett,
661:Twelve pillars of the castle of time will bear. Twelve creatures rule land and sea. The eagle is ready to soar in the air, Five's the foundation and also the key. In the Circle of Twelve, Number Twelve becomes Two. The hawk hatches seventh, yet Three is the clue. ~ Kerstin Gier,
662:When she wanted to forget the Castle, she thought of these things, but she did not expect joy. Hell was a place of remembering, each beautiful moment passed through the mind's eye until it fell to the ground like a rotten mango, perfectly useless, uselessly perfect. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
663:When she wanted to forget the Castle, she thought of these things, but she did not expect joy. Hell was a place of remembering, each beautiful moment passed through the mind’s eye until it fell to the ground like a rotten mango, perfectly useless, uselessly perfect. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
664:He looked up, past her, at the bedroom. Finally, a break to the white - but this wasn't much better. Pink carpeting, princess border along the ceiling, white walls, and a gold canopy bed.
"What," he said, "no Barbie dream castle?"
Layne flushed. "Shut up. ~ Brigid Kemmerer,
665:I needed to go into that bare, with nothing from my own life on my body, the way woodcutters' children in fairy tales have to leave their protections behind to enter the enchanted castle; the way votaries in old religions used to go naked to their initiation rites. ~ Tana French,
666:Wait.” He held up a palm. “We may not live in a castle, but I’ll treat my bride like a queen.” He put an arm under her legs and another around her back. Before she could figure out what to do, he lifted her off the seat and carried her inside. “Welcome home. ~ Catherine Richmond,
667:You expect me to believe that you're being held against your will?" I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're roaming around the castle freely." "As are you." He turned away from me then. "Not all prisons have bars. You should know that better than anyone, Princess. ~ Amanda Hocking,
668:The thoughts could easily paralyze her, and she needed to be sharp. She needed a plan. For now, it was easier to do something useful with her hands. Cleaning had kept her busy all those lonely years in the castle. It could keep her busy again for another few hours. ~ Jen Calonita,
669:This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. ~ J K Rowling,
670:And therein were many knights and squires to behold, scaffolds and pavilions; for there upon the morn should be a great tournament: and the lord of the tower was in his castle and looked out at a window, and saw a damosel, a dwarf, and a knight armed at all points. ~ Thomas Malory,
671:Group Meditation is a castle that protects the new spiritual aspirants as well as the veteran meditators. Meditating together increases the degree of Self-realization of each member of the group by the law of invisible vibratory exchange of group magnetism. ~ Paramahansa Yogananda,
672:I’m not a maiden. You took that.” “And I would again,” he growled. “I’d steal you away and keep you in a castle far from here. Far from any other man. I’d guard you jealously and every night come to your bed and put my cock into your cunny and fuck you until dawn. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,
673:The way to begin healing the wounds of the world is to treasure the Infant Christ in us; to be not the castle but the cradle of Christ; and, in rocking that cradle to the rhythm of love, to swing the whole world back into the beat of the Music of Eternal Life. ~ Caryll Houselander,
674:We first build our castles in our consciousness, picture them in detail in our ambition, before we put foundations under them and reality into them. Dreaming is not always castle-building. Every real castle, every home, every building was an air castle first. ~ Orison Swett Marden,
675:It's so funny castle, you know, at first I loved that he was so busy. It just, it just gave me the opportunity to keep one foot out the door just on case.
But with one foot out the door, it's hard to know where you stand. 
And even if I did what does it mean? ~ Richard Castle,
676:I was a vegetarian when we shot the first film(Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle), and I generally eat organic as much as possible. I know this is so disappointing to the audience, which is why I don't talk about it a lot, but I don't smoke weed, I don't eat fast food. ~ Kal Penn,
677:Pangloss taught metaphysico-theologico-cosmo-codology. He could prove wonderfully that there is no effect without a cause and that, in this best of all possible worlds, His Lordship the Baron's castle was the most beautiful of castles and Madam the best of all baronesses. ~ Voltaire,
678:To my lady Catherine,

I give you gold with a diamond you can barely see,

But the gem would be castle-sized if it expressed all I feel for thee.

I give you gold because it endures, and love like the eternal sea.

Only your brother, Christopher. ~ V C Andrews,
679:Build your inner environment. Practice Silence! I remember the wonderful discipline of the Great Ones. When we used to talk and chatter, they would say: "Go back into your inner castle." It was very hard to comprehend then, but now I understand the way of peace ~ Paramahansa Yogananda,
680:Championing liberty begins at the local level. There is nothing more fundamental than the principle that a man's home is his castle. Donald Trump's career-long willingness to trample this right tells you everything you need to know about his bogus tea party sideshow. ~ Michelle Malkin,
681:I mean I think people prepared me for like a lot of green screen [in Oz the Great]. I didn't have a lot of green screen. They build most sets. When this castle was tangible, Emerald City was tangible, the forest, the woods was tangible, the cemetery, everything was there. ~ Mila Kunis,
682:Sam loved to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside the cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and blueberry tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing, clumsy as he was. ~ George R R Martin,
683:This tottered ensign of my ancestors
Which swept the desert shore of that dead sea
Whereof we got the name of Mortimer,
Will I advance upon these castle-walls.
Drums, strike alarum, raise them from their sport,
And sing aloud the knell of Gaveston! ~ Christopher Marlowe,
684:Neil didn't know what the last straw was to break Kevin's chain, but apparently last night's spectacle wasn't born of drunken grandeur. Kevin had committed; there was no going back. He faced Castle Evermore now like it was just another worthless stop on his way to glory. ~ Nora Sakavic,
685:There is no greater symbol of the artistic spirit of Scotland than the Mackintosh building. But more than that it is a symbol of where art belongs, rising as it does out of the heart of a great city. A mighty castle on a hill, it is a part of me, and of all Glaswegians. ~ Peter Capaldi,
686:What do you have in this car?" he asked.
"What do you mean, like weapons?"
"That would be a good start."
"Well, I 've got a mini Swiss Army Knife on my key chain."
"A two-inch stainless steel blade and a nail file. They might as well surrender to us now.... ~ Richard Castle,
687:All the next day the pleasure of his success lingers in Werner's blood, the memory of how it seemed almost holy to him to walk beside big Volkheimer back to the castle, down through the frozen trees, past the rooms of sleeping boys ranked like gold bars in strongrooms... ~ Anthony Doerr,
688:How do you curb envy? First, stop comparing yourself to others. Second, find your “circle of competence” and fill it on your own. Create a niche where you are the best. It doesn’t matter how small your area of mastery is. The main thing is that you are king of the castle. ~ Rolf Dobelli,
689:I don't really have a lot of expensive tastes. What else am I really going to do with my money? Buy a little red sports car? Wear a lot of jewelry? Build a castle? Well... I might do the last one. Maybe. Eventually. But that doesn't mean I can't run Worldbuilders too. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,
690:I don’t think I like your tone, young man. Has this country gotten so accustomed to wiping its hinder with the Constitution that now the police are free to go door-to-door gathering fingerprints from citizens without cause? What are you building, some kind of data bank? ~ Richard Castle,
691:you gave up any right to comment on the subject when you threw my ring back in my face, didn't you?"
She (Elly) stiffened."I didn't throw it back. I just sort of set in down on your desk."
He (Cooper)shrugged."We each have our own version of events, Want some fries? ~ Jayne Castle,
692:He’d imprisoned himself in this castle to rot. He’d cut off all contact with the outside world. And just when he thought he’d burned all his bridges, this woman—this impossible, sweet, foolish woman—arrived, determined to swim the moat. Breach his defenses. Make a home. Stay. ~ Tessa Dare,
693:Castle Rock and New Line each have their strengths, but the great thing about New Line is that they are a real focused-market, niche-market player who understand franchises. They probably understand the franchise business in motion pictures better than anyone else out there. ~ Fred Seibert,
694:I started by making pilgrimages to see the originals in Milan, Florence, Paris, Seattle, Madrid, London, and Windsor Castle. That followed Leonardo’s injunction to begin any investigation by going to the source: “He who can go to the fountain does not go to the water-jar. ~ Walter Isaacson,
695:She walked to where he stood, where the fire met the water. He took her hand and they both looked out into the abyss of it. The fear that Marcus had felt inside the Castle was still there, but he knew it was like the fire, a wild thing that could still be controlled, contained. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
696:I’m not Prince Charming. I’m the bad guy that sneaks into the castle when Prince Charming is off singing songs in the woods. I’m the one with the big cock that bends needy Cinderella over. And I’m the one that makes her scream until her throat’s raw and she can’t sing a note. ~ Kenya Wright,
697:They were having sex on Gifford's desk, if you must know."
Lucas's eyes glinted. "His desk, huh?"
"Yes." Amaryllis raised her chin, the better to look down her nose at him. "I would have thought it would have been extremely uncomfo rtable, but they appeared to enjoy it. ~ Jayne Castle,
698:For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered; for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court... and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! ~ William Shakespeare,
699:You know, I endeavor to be more like my older brother. He's very magnetic. He's actually very much like 'Castle' in that people are attracted to him, and just want to be near him. You want to know where my brother is in a crowded room? He's the guy with the crowd around him. ~ Nathan Fillion,
700:It doesn't look like a sorceress castle", said Roland.
"I was expecting something more sinister. You know, a round store tower with a single gleaming red window. This place makes me think of hot chocolate and gingerbread."
"maybe this is just his vacation home", said Terry. ~ John Moore,
701:It feels kind of strange knowing that I rule the whole planet of Naboo and I'm only thirteen. At first, my face—because it was really white—was a bit of a shock. But when the whole costume was put together and the headdress was put on, I really felt proud, like a Queen. ~ Keisha Castle Hughes,
702:It's an impossible castle in an enchanted snowstorm in a haunted forest," I said in a voice slightly more shrill than I had hoped for. "Naturally there are invisible servants to care for the horses." "Naturally." Father sounded as rattled as I, which made me feel a little better. ~ C E Murphy,
703:Let me advise you, my dear young friend-- nay, let me warn you with all seriousness, that should you leave these rooms you will not by any chance go to sleep in any other part of the castle. It is old, and has many memories, and there are bad dreams for those who sleep unwisely. ~ Bram Stoker,
704:The castle? The monster? The man of learning? I only just thought of it. Surely you know that just as the momentous events of the past cast their shadows down the ages, so now, when the sun is drawing toward the dark,our own shadows race into the past to trouble mankind's dreams. ~ Gene Wolfe,
705:Your existence is passing before you. Grains of sand in the hourglass. The Wicked Witch of the West has you in her castle and she's turned the hourglass over and the sand is running through. Will you be liberated or will you die? The only way you can beat death is liberation. ~ Frederick Lenz,
706:I want my job to include a little adventure, a little more of a heightened reality than what I'm actually living. And 'Castle' has that. He gets this opportunity to tail these homicide detectives, and he's driven by that. He's a little immature, but he's obviously loving life. ~ Nathan Fillion,
707:Just before nightfall, Hannibal approached Lecter castle through the woods. As he looked at his home, his feelings remained curiously flat; it is not healing to see your childhood home, but it helps you measure whether you are broken, and how and why, assuming you want to know. ~ Thomas Harris,
708:The teachers were focused on helping these students. The students benefited from hands-on teaching and a faculty who cared about them and their success in life and soon the students began to believe in themselves and the reality that they could make something of their lives. ~ Michael N Castle,
709:We do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce a surly contentment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. We have to feel the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return to at evening. ~ G K Chesterton,
710:which was how he had survived the Dark Lord’s attack. Indeed, many of the Dark Lord’s old followers thought Potter might be a standard around which we could all rally once more. I was curious, I admit it, and not at all inclined to murder him the moment he set foot in the castle. ~ J K Rowling,
711:Yorda slid down the side of the throne platform and walked again toward Ico. She moved differently now. This was not the Yorda he had led through the castle by the hand, the Yorda who would wander aimlessly if he did not call out to her. This was the queen's double, her puppet. ~ Miyuki Miyabe,
712:The nightmares were so devastating that as a self-defense mechanism his brain did all it could to keep him awake at night. Instead of falling asleep, Hunter read ferociously. Books became his refuge, his castle. A safe place where the ghastly nightmares couldn't breach the gates. ~ Chris Carter,
713:The unfortunate Elizabeth Bathori was said to bathe in the blood of young girls in order to preserve her youth and beauty. Apparently more than 600 maidens went down the drain before anyone noticed something amiss at the castle. How very inobservant the neighbors must have been. ~ Robert Dunbar,
714:Suddenly I felt an overwhelming desire to be home. I wanted badly to clean out our castle, and replant Mama’s garden, and walk in the sunny glades, and think, and read, and learn. I no longer wanted to face the world in ignorance, wearing castoff clothing and old horse blankets. ~ Sherwood Smith,
715:The church was simply the former chapel of the castle, fronting upon its grass-grown court, which, however, was of generous enough width to have given up its quaintest corner to a little graveyard. Here the very headstones themselves seemed to sleep, as they slanted into the grass. ~ Henry James,
716:And just like magic, the Isle of the Lost began to form before their eyes, including the hidden and forbidden zones. The Forbidden Fortress appeared, a menacing-looking castle of spiky walls and twisty towers, located on the edge of the island. Right in the middle of Nowhere. ~ Melissa de la Cruz,
717:At some point in my life I'd honestly hoped love would rescue me from the cold, drafty castle I lived in. But at another point, much earlier I think, I'd quietly begun to hope for nothing at all in the way of love, so as not to be disappointed. It works. It gets to be a habit. ~ Barbara Kingsolver,
718:I thought of my picture in the Castle. But what would future girls see when they looked at the photograph during their daily comings and goings, peering closely? Not the shade of my hair, rendered colorless. Not anything, really. Just a girl on a horse, like so many other girls. ~ Anton DiSclafani,
719:Lloyd George’s main interest seemed to lie in meeting the amazing escapologist ‘Mick’ as he always referred to him. He took a mischievous delight in the rage of ‘the Castle contingent’ at their inability to lay hands on Collins when the Archbishop could apparently see him at will. ~ Tim Pat Coogan,
720:We stood there for a long moment before he said, "You know, we still have like, half an hour down here. Seems a shame to waste it." I poked him in the ribs, and he gave an exaggerated wince. "No way, dude. My days of cellar, mill, and dungeon lovin' are over. Go castle or go home. ~ Rachel Hawkins,
721:On the farm, in our first-floor bedroom, my sister and I were sheltered in the essence of normal. We were not hidden, but unseen. The orange farmhouse was our castle, our kingdom the fields around, and the shallow creek that bisected our property the sea we crossed to find adventure. ~ Lori Lansens,
722:In three weeks my betrothed is coming here, to the castle. But Rose, I can’t marry her. I tried to believe that I could love her, and I’m sure I could have had I not met you. But knowing you, Rose, loving you as I do, I can’t possibly marry someone else. So I came up with a plan. ~ Melanie Dickerson,
723:...retreat into the privacy and sanctuary of our castle-like homes, shut the door, pull up the imaginary drawbridge and avoid the issue. Home may indeed be our substitute for a Fatherland, but at another level, I would suggest that *home is what the English have instead of social skills*. ~ Kate Fox,
724:We do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce a surly contentment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. We have to feel the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return to at evening. ~ Gilbert K Chesterton,
725:I wish the choice I have to make today was so simple. I realise I have the choice to believe in two terrible things. Either Damian is a murderer or Beckett arrested an innocent man.
Just thinking about it is making my head hurt.
Well then forget your head, listen to your heart. ~ Richard Castle,
726:Newt turned back to me, her eyes black as the sun slipped away. From the slump of broken castle, a rock fell. “We exist in a zoo,” she said, chilling me. “You know that, yes? I hope our funding doesn’t run out. I’d give anything for a better enclosure, one that at least hides the bars. ~ Kim Harrison,
727:Now one of the most essential branches of English liberty, is the freedom of one's house. A man's house is his castle; and while he is quiet, he is as well guarded as a prince in his castle. This writ of assistance, if it should be declared legal, would totally annihilate this privilege. ~ James Otis,
728:By all means," cried the bard, his eyes lighting up. "A Fflam to the rescue! Storm the castle! Carry it by assault! Batter down the gates!"
"There's not much of it left to storm," said Eilonwy.
"Oh?" said Fflewddur, with disappointment. "Very well, we shall do the best we can. ~ Lloyd Alexander,
729:A mist still lay all about the walls and floors, hovering like a last breath on the lips of all the sleepers. As he walked through the castle, he marveled at how many lay asleep: the good people, the not-so-good, the young people and the not-so-young, and not one of them stirring. Not one. ~ Jane Yolen,
730:Three months previously I had entered the Haunt alone, covered in blood that was not my own and swinging a stolen sword. By Brothers followed me in. Now I left the castle in the hands of another. I had wanted my uncle's blood. His crown I took because other men said I could not have it. ~ Mark Lawrence,
731:He wrote as if he were the reader. It was also how he kept his writing from becoming too cute, which is to say, about him not the subject. Rook was a journalist but strove to be a storyteller, one who let his subjects speak for themselves and stayed out of their way as much as possible. ~ Richard Castle,
732:How did you know I was here in town?"
"The old quarter here in Cadence is my neighborhood now," she said smoothly,"Let's just say I have my sources."
"Right", He nodded, evidently satisfied and picked up his sandwich. "your mother phoned and told you I was on my way here to Cadence. ~ Jayne Castle,
733:Well, he would share her, but only for a little while. When the ball was over, he would make sure she slept inside the castle tonight, with his sister Margaretha. In fact, he might just make sure she never left the castle. He didn’t intend for her to ever be without protection again. ~ Melanie Dickerson,
734:In the final analysis, therefore, the tomb of Edward I may stand, like the unfinished castle at Caernarfon, not only as a monument to the past, but also as a warning to the future: a final reminder of the power of myth to shape men’s minds and motives, and thus to alter the fate of nations. ~ Marc Morris,
735:I wished I could read in their shrivelled faces and watery eyes, I wished I could hear in the bad French which came half through their pinched lips and half through their pointed noses, how the old ladies had got at least on to good terms with the uncanny beings which haunted the castle. ~ E T A Hoffmann,
736:Lorcan rubbed his head. “Am I asking too much to want the little bitch dead? Am I?” It seemed Hefaidd-Hen learned long ago not to answer certain questions. “All I want is for her to suffer a painful, horrifying death. And for her head to be on a spike in front of my castle. That’s all I want. ~ G A Aiken,
737:You have a lovely castle,” she noted, looking around while sitting on a couch and crossing her legs before she tipped her face up to Lucien and asked mock petulantly. “Why don’t we have a castle, darling?”
“You want a castle, sweetling, I’ll get you a castle,” Lucien answered casually. ~ Kristen Ashley,
738:I am inspired by great food, theater, books, the beach, black-and-white photography, and great vocalists, like Dianne Reeves, Alice Smith, and Shirley Horn. I am inspired by my mentor Diana Castle, who is guiding me towards a truth and honesty in my life and work that I have always longed for. ~ Erica Tazel,
739:I hear the shatter of my heart. I hear that sound from long ago when I broke the bottle of that expensive champagne when Caleb left. But this time around, the sound is like a gunshot, more jarring and deafening. It’s the sound of my castle falling through the air and crashing to the ground. ~ Saffron A Kent,
740:Once upon a time there was an island named Blogosphere, and at the very center of that island stood a great castle built of stone, and spreading out from that castle for miles in every direction was a vast settlement of peasants who lived in shacks fashioned of tin and cardboard and straw. ~ Nicholas G Carr,
741:Tour the castle (open from 9:30). Then consider catching one of the city bus tours for a one-hour loop (departing from a block below the castle at the Hub/Tolbooth Church; you could munch a sandwich from the top deck if you’re into multitasking). Back near the castle, take my self-guided Royal ~ Rick Steves,
742:Why was she doing this to herself? She was too young to be locked away in this grim castle, weighed down with responsibility that was not hers
to shoulder. She should be at parties, being feted, dancing, and enjoying
herself. Or be surrounded by bairns. My bairns, he thought fiercely. ~ Monica McCarty,
743:Five houses?” Lothaire had sneered, cutting Trehan off. “You all live under one roof now. Mine. Because I’m the king of the castle.” Then his red eyes had grown vacant, and he’d begun muttering about “Lizvetta’s lingerie.”
Trehan had been … underwhelmed by the Enemy of Old’s attention span. ~ Kresley Cole,
744:I'm in a castle
standing in a tower,
looking down through a window
at the beautiful garden,
the sun setting in the distance.

The beauty in the moment
brings tears to my eyes.

Sky blue pink,
the backdrop for
roses in ever color
blooming in the garden. ~ Lisa Schroeder,
745:Less takes one last look at the ancient castle of mud and straw, remade every year or so as the rains erode the walls, plastered and replastered so that nothing remains of the old ksar except its former pattern. Something like a living creature of which not a cell is left of the original. ~ Andrew Sean Greer,
746: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,
747:We want to make sure children aren't left without any books. We want to make sure our children have the books, that they have a place in the castle. We want to make sure that their mothers have affordable day care. We want to make sure we give the older people the care that they need. ~ Arnold Schwarzenegger,
748:Most sailing ships take what they call trainees, who pay to be part of the crew. The Picton Castle takes people who are absolutely raw recruits. But you can't just ride along. You're learning to steer the ship, navigation; you're pulling lines, keeping a lookout; in the galley you're cooking. ~ Billy Campbell,
749:Quey had wanted to cry, but the desire embarrassed him. He knew that he was one of the half-caste children of the Castle, and, like the other half-caste children, he could not fully claim half of himself, neither his father's whiteness or his mother's blackness. Neither England nor the Gold Coast. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
750:Relax Guild Boss. You have my word of honor that I won't tell a soul about your connection to Watson Whitaker." she winked. "Frankly,though, I doubt if the story would do you any real damage if it did get out. Might even give you a boost in the popularity ratings back home. People love legends. ~ Jayne Castle,
751:The general condition of being human is that nothing satisfies most people for long. Those with no power want power. Those with power want more power. Those with food want more food or luxuries. Those with a roof over their heads want a castle. But everyone wants someone else to do the work. ~ L E Modesitt Jr,
752:Their gowns and masks look lovely.” “Not as lovely as yours,” Jorgen said without hesitating. Her heart seemed to fly out of her chest and soar around the arched ceiling of the ballroom of Thornbeck Castle. Jorgen Hartman, rescuer of damsels in peril, might . . . perhaps . . . love her. But ~ Melanie Dickerson,
753:Quentin did not consider himself a great interpreter of signs and wonders, but the lesson of the golden key seemed pretty clear to him. It was this: you’ve already won the game, so quit playing. Remain where you are, in your castle, and you will be safe. No further action on your part is required. ~ Lev Grossman,
754:Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may again touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey-castle sequence of bumpings-into and tumblings-apart. ~ Salman Rushdie,
755:A man’s home is his castle, but a woman’s body has never been wholly her own. Historically, it’s belonged to her nation, her community, her father, her family, her husband—in 1973, when Roe was decided, marital rape was legal in every state. Why shouldn’t her body belong to a fertilized egg as well? ~ Katha Pollitt,
756:Kafka was a master at the gruesome task of picturing people who do not use their potentialities and therefore lose their sense of being persons. The chief character in The Trial and in The Castle has no name—he is identified only by an initial, a mute symbol of one’s lack of identity in one’s own right. ~ Rollo May,
757:Soap tries to arrest the Punisher, but fails to stop him. Soap then becomes despondent; Castle then tells Soap when things aren’t getting better, to “just go”. Soap leaves the NYPD, moves to Los Angeles and becomes a porn star. Up to that point, he had simply been unaware that he has large genitals. ~ Conor Lastowka,
758:Yup. Dead. Slain. Wasted. Kicked the bucket. First he was all, ‘Rawr! I’m a duke of Hell, bitches!’ and then he was like, ‘This is my turf! Welcome to Castle Cocksucker!’ and then he was all, ‘You’re all gonna die!’ and then it was, ‘Fuck, this sword hurts!’ and finally he was like, ‘Oh fuck, I’m dead! ~ Elliott Kay,
759:Come here, child,” he said to Katsa. “Let me see your eyes, for they make me stronger.” And his kindness brought a smile to her face, though his words were nonsense. She went to sit beside Grandfather Tealiff, and he and Po told her more about Po’s castle and Po’s brothers and Ror’s city in the sky. ~ Kristin Cashore,
760:I shall expect you and the Slytherins in the Great Hall in twenty minutes, also,” said Professor McGonagall. “If you wish to leave with your students, we shall not stop you. But if any of you attempt to sabotage our resistance or take up arms against us within this castle, then, Horace, we duel to kill. ~ J K Rowling,
761:Next was a castle divided into many small rooms, with a system for passing messages between rooms through a pneumatic tube. In each room was a group of people who responded to the messages by following certain rules laid out in books, which usually entailed sending more messages to other rooms. After ~ Neal Stephenson,
762:You're gay. I'm safe with you. Castle's not."
"(...) But me being gay doesn't make you safe in my company, Alex. Me choosing not to hurt you makes you safe. Gay, bi or straight, it doesn't matter, it's about respect for another human being and making the choice not to commit violence against them. ~ C J Fallowfield,
763:At this slower pace the journey took a couple of days, and I fought off a few minor threats along the way --griffins, carnivorous plants, giant serpents, hostile centaurs, that sort of thing, purely routine --and I was beginning to get bored when at last the dusky towers of Castle Roogna hove into view. ~ Piers Anthony,
764:I love Chatsworth, Winchester Cathedral, Edinburgh Castle... Every time I'm in the vicinity of something old and worth looking at, I try to go. You don't even have to leave your home town to see some places. How many Londoners have seen the crown jewels? Not many, and they'll blow you away, I promise. ~ Alan Titchmarsh,
765:Anything you can imagine is yours to be or do or have. As you ask yourself why you want to have it, the essence of your desires is activated, and the Universe begins to bring it to you. The more intense your positive feelings, the faster it is coming to you. (It is as easy to create a castle as a button). ~ Esther Hicks,
766:The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? Harry's mind was in freefall, spinning out of control, unable to grasp the impossiblity, because Fred Weasley could not be dead, the evidence of all his senses must be lying - ~ J K Rowling,
767:In a fight against Juggernaut and Cassidy in their spacious castle basement, Cassidy mentions the word 'tomb' to the X-Men. That's all it took to send Storm into a claustrophobic fit that leaves her in a heap on the floor for three straight issues. Imagine if he would have said 'Small Closet' or 'Size 2 Jeans.' ~ Seanbaby,
768:The Karstarks traced their descent to Karlon Stark, a younger son of Winterfell who had put down a rebel lord a thousand years ago, and been granted lands for his valor. The castle he built had been named Karl’s Hold, but that soon became Karhold, and over the centuries the Karhold Starks had become Karstarks. ~ Anonymous,
769:Welcome to Château du Roi,” Carter said. Of course the house had a name, Kate thought, and one about as subtle as the three cars out front. Castle of the King. She decided to name her apartment something classy when she got back to L.A. Her place overlooked a gas station, so maybe Château du Chevronview. ~ Janet Evanovich,
770:Each man and woman is like a soldier sent by God to guard some part of the castle of the Universe. And some are in the ramparts and some far deep in the darkness of the walls. But each one must remain faithful to his post and must not go running about, else the castle is in danger from the assaults of Hell. ~ John Steinbeck,
771:Nobody’s going to save you. No one’s going to cut you down, cut the thorns thick around you. No one’s going to storm the castle walls nor kiss awake your birth, climb down your hair, nor mount you onto the white steed. There is no one who will feed the yearning. Face it. You will have to do, do it yourself. ~ Gloria E Anzald a,
772:Nobody’s going to save you. No one’s going to cut you down, cut the thorns thick around you. No one’s going to storm the castle walls nor kiss awake your birth, climb down your hair, nor mount you onto the white steed. There is no one who will feed the yearning. Face it. You will have to do, do it yourself. ~ Gloria E Anzaldua,
773:Words, for all they were flimsy and invisible, had great strength. They could be fortified as a castle wall and sharp as a foil. They could bite, slap, shock, wound. But unlike deeds, words couldn't really help you. No promise ever rescued a person; it was the carrying-through of it that brought about salvation. ~ Jodi Picoult,
774:I stand alone for several minutes, watching the shadows move across the stones. The mortar that holds them in place is coarse and thick, as if the stones didn't exactly fit together and had to be glued into place. The prince had the entire castle moved from across the sea. A prop for his megalomania. I shiver. ~ Bethany Griffin,
775:As Toppers rose from her seat on a sofa to meet him, Storm realized that he was looking at an architectural marvel. She weighed less than a hundred pounds and was under five feet tall, but she was so top-heavy that Storm wondered how she kept herself from tumbling facedown when she reached out to shake his hand. ~ Richard Castle,
776:I love doing 'Castle.' We pump out 24 episodes in 10 months, and we work long hours. We do lots and lots of takes, and everyone there is a talent machine. It is a taxing endeavour to say the least, but when you get into a groove, it doesn't matter if you're tired, it doesn't matter if you're sick. You can do it. ~ Nathan Fillion,
777:So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle, "is that clear? Any questions?"
"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start. "Why couldn't you have told us yesterday when we were awake? ~ J K Rowling,
778:It is whispered that death has his kingdom in the solitudes beyond the marshes, and lives in a castle so awful to look at that no one has ever seen it. Also it is told that all the evil things that live in the marshes are the disobedient children of death who have left their home and cannot find their way back again ~ Bram Stoker,
779:stood in a window that was so large, a ship could sail through it. She had chosen to occupy this bedroom at the giant’s castle because of this very window and the beautiful view of the stars it had at night. Also, it was the farthest bedroom from Mother Goose’s room and the only place you couldn’t hear her snoring. ~ Chris Colfer,
780:Doing something stupid and reckless is not a better proof of your love than doing something measured and powerful. You are no longer the boy who chased Regal's coterie through the halls of Buckkeep Castle with a bared blade. You are Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. And we will make them pay with every drop of their blood. ~ Robin Hobb,
781:Doing something stupid and reckless is not a better proof of your love than doing something measured and powerful. You are no longer the boy who chased Regal’s coterie through the halls of Buckkeep Castle with a bared blade. You are Prince FitzChivalry Farseer. And we will make them pay with every drop of their blood. ~ Robin Hobb,
782:She had read too many romantic novels of a dark and dreary bent to really be surprised—The Castle of Otranto was one of her favorite English reads. For all intents and purposes, she was the overwrought, terrified heroine wandering around a cursed castle at night, seeing things in the shadows, jumping at noises. Plus ~ Liz Braswell,
783:You step forward and make it real for a start. You choose a sensible moment in history. Funnily enough, England was bankrupt and the moment is the death of Richard The Lionheart... Richard takes an arrow in the neck collecting a small debt from a small castle on his way home from the Crusades because he's penniless. ~ Ridley Scott,
784:For Ethel, it was exactly as if one of the twisted beech trees behind the castle had knocked at her door one morning to ask for her hand in marriage. What could she say? Yes, she loved those little trees beneath which she used to build her dens, she loved them dearly...but would she have wanted to marry them? ~ Timoth e de Fombelle,
785:I told him of the queen's refusal to see me, and"- he hesitated, his cheeks coloring slightly- "about the beautiful maiden I met in the castle gardens."
"You did?" she asked, unsure why she was so taken with the fact that he'd mentioned her.
"Yes," Henri smiled shyly.
"Oh, brother," she heard Grumpy mumble. ~ Jen Calonita,
786:You must let other people to challenge your truths; you must let them to question your faith and the reason for this is very simple: Your truths might be very wrong; your faith might be very mistaken. Don’t be a castle; you need bridges surrounding you, not walls! And remember that walls belong only to cowards! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
787:My eyes stay on her as she moves slightly closer. She hesitates one last second before her lips tentatively touch mine. I’m not having any of that, though. She’s opened the door, and it might as well be a pair of those gigantic wooden double-doors that grace the front of some huge Bavarian castle because I’m coming in. ~ Shay Savage,
788:Being in the industry, I've seen many situations where someone will get the call from the network where they say 'You guys have 5 episodes to wrap it up.' Then all your long-term story arcs gotta get wrapped up in five episodes because that's how many episodes you got left. I would hate to see that happen to 'Castle'. ~ Nathan Fillion,
789:Dear Miss Tremor. You are smart and kind and pretty. I think you have really excellent stuff under your clothes and I would like to see it, please. Let's go on a date and get married and you can be my rodent queen in my castle in the sewer. Love always and forever, --Mouse. P.S. I am sorry my rats ate some of your candy. ~ Gail Simone,
790:And now you have a small map of the princess's heart (hatred, sorrow, kindness, empathy), the heart that she carried down inside her as she went down the golden stairs and through the kitchen and, finally, just as the sky outside the castle began to lighten, down into the dark dungeon with the rat and the serving girl. ~ Kate DiCamillo,
791:[Francis] skipped chapel for the first time in seven years, praying that his mother would never come to hear of it. He spent a hair-raising half hour sneaking into every staircase and running up and down on tiptoe, straining his ears to catch the murmur of chanting and sniffing at gaps under doors for the scent of incense. ~ Anna Castle,
792:It's very far away, it takes about a half and a day to get there, if we travel by my... dragon-fly. No, it's not in Spain, but all the same, you know, it's a groovy name. And the wind's just right... Hang on, my darling, hang on if you wanna go. Hear it's a really groovy place, with just a little bit Spanish Castle Magic. ~ Jimi Hendrix,
793:we flew to England again to play the outdoor Monsters of Rock festival at Castle Donington. This was the kind of thing you heard about other bands playing—big bands, household names, not grubby kids a year or two removed from living in a back-alley storage space and treating their venereal diseases with fucking fish food. ~ Duff McKagan,
794:Merrick and I had both had tattoos, my magpie and his elephant and castle, imposed on us as…it’s a long story. A reward, or apology, or both, from the Dragon Head, or grand master, of one of the larger criminal organisations in China after we accidentally saved his son’s life.”
“Accidentally?”
“It’s a VERY long story. ~ K J Charles,
795:You’re not leaving. I told you that.” She worked to keep the calm in her tone to counter his fury.
“I’m going to shoot.”
“It’s time to put your gun down, Noah.”
“His blood will be on you.”
Rook made eye contact with her and mouthed, Shoot. Him.
She had no shot and said so with the smallest head shake. ~ Richard Castle,
796:forward. So I was engrossed by the provocative 2012 piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education, “Don’t Pick Up: Why Kids Need to Separate from Their Parents,” by English professor Terry Castle, in which Castle offered the orphan as a role model for youth suffering from overparenting.7 Terry Castle has taught English ~ Julie Lythcott Haims,
797:One of the Franciscans says later, "A monk should own nothing but his harp"; meaning, I suppose, that he should value nothing but his song, the song with which it was his business as a minstrel to serenade every castle and cottage, the song of the joy of the Creator in His creation and the beauty of the brotherhood of men. ~ G K Chesterton,
798:This is not the way these tales end," Calliope said firmly.
"This is not the way that things end when they get to be tales," Amatus said, "but since ours is not yet told, we cannot count on it. There were a hundred dead princes on the thorns outside Sleeping Beauty's castle, and I'm sure many of them were splendid fellows. ~ John Barnes,
799:Common sense was, in fact, the cornerstone of her existence. If she had been the princess in the fairytale who was forbidden to go into the one locked and secret room in the castle, then into that locked and secret room she would never ever have gone, and the happy ending would have happened for her years earlier than scheduled. ~ Anonymous,
800:I headed for this white mountain, but was caught in the wind and the mist . . . I followed the cliff from north to south, but the wind, against which I was fighting, got even stronger. A break in the coast appeared to my right, just before Dover Castle. I was madly happy. I headed for it. I rushed for it. I was above ground! ~ Louis Bleriot,
801:Mmm . . . you’re not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack — a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second. ~ J K Rowling,
802:Roxanne sat there listening to the attorney on her phone, nodding and nodding, vinyl creaking with each head bob. And then she hung up. “He says to go fuck yourself.” Nikki Heat paused and gave a slight smile. “Judging from some of the equipment you’ve got here, this would probably be the one place I could actually do that. ~ Richard Castle,
803:The castle of Cair Paravel on its little hill towered up above them; before them were the sands, with rocks and little pools of salt water, and seaweed, and the smell of the sea and long miles of bluish-green waves breaking for ever and ever on the beach. And oh, the cry of the seagulls! Have you ever heard it? Can you remember? ~ C S Lewis,
804:The Writer: [voiceover] I was 12 going on 13 the first time I saw a dead human being. It happened in the summer of 1959-a long time ago, but only if you measure in terms of years. I was living in a small town in Oregon called Castle Rock. There were only twelve hundred and eighty-one people. But to me, it was the whole world. ~ Stephen King,
805:I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle--something heroic, or wonderful--that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
806:Of course her name was Meghan. Goldie and I talked about meanings of names one day and she introduced me to Urban Dictionary that has a meaning for every name. Meghan came up as a skanky ass ho which pleased Goldie because apparently there was a Meghan at Kitten’s Castle that fit the description perfectly and so did this girl. ~ Meghan Quinn,
807:The three of them fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.
“Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?”
“That’d be a cheerful visit,” said Ron, “ ‘Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately? ~ J K Rowling,
808:BILLY CRYSTAL It’s been one of the little jewels of my career. Very often, still to this day, in airports or movie theaters, people will walk by and go, “Have fun storming the castle!” Or the really cool ones will whisper to me, “Don’t go swimming for an hour, a good hour,” and then just walk away. Those are the really cool ones. ~ Cary Elwes,
809:The Word of God will be to you a bulwark and a high tower, a castle of defense against the foe. Oh, see to it that the Word of God is in you, in your very soul, permeating your thoughts, and so operating upon your outward life, that all may know you to be a true Bible-Christian, for they perceive it in your words and deeds. ~ Charles Spurgeon,
810:You are never the lesser, not in your own home, mia cara bella. Demand respect in your space because it is yours, and do not let someone take it from you. You are the queen, and this is your castle. This is your home, and those who are lucky enough to be allowed inside should understand what that means. Smile. Always smile here. ~ Bethany Kris,
811:We Built a Castle Near the Rocks,
we built it out of sand.

Our fortress was an ice-cream box
with turret, tall and grand.

Our men were twigs, our gun were straws
from which we'd sipped at lunch.

We had the best of wars...
till someone's foot

went

CRUNCH!

[Joan Walsh Anglund] ~ Jack Prelutsky,
812:If Frau Rasch, in the last and fullest days of her husband’s power in Brno, had idly—during a party, say; a musical recital at the castle—gazed into the core of the diamond that had come to her from Oskar Schindler, she would have seen reflected there the worst incubus from her own dreams and her Führer’s. An armed Marxist Jew. ~ Thomas Keneally,
813: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,
814:And now she was just Gabby, currently staying in a dreamy, magnificent castle in Scotland with a Fae prince who did all kinds of non-nasty, non-inhuman things like tearing up lists of names, and returning tadpoles to lakes, and saving people's lives.
Not to mention kissing with all the otherwordly splendor of a horny angel. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
815:I expected something a little more castle-shaped," said Jamie. Nothing lasts forever," Nick said. "Except demons, of course." Has anyone ever told you that you're a charming conversationalist?" Jamie asked. No," Nick replied honestly. I cannot tell you how much that surprises me," Jamie told him, and Nick gave him a half smile. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,
816:I usually describe my father as a man given to impenetrable solitude. If I turn the phrase I can apply it to Johnny. Impenetrable happiness. For a long time I couldn't enter his life because his happiness, or appearance of happiness - his unending smiles - locked the door. An ingenious strategy, to surround the thorns with a castle. ~ Elizabeth Hay,
817:You took something from the King," I said.
"Did I?" the dragon growled. "And what might that be?"
"You know."
"Say it."
"The Prince."
"Ah," the dragon said. "I'm sorry, but your prince is in another castle."
"What?" I was confused. What other castle?
It sighed. "You young people today. Never respecting the classics. ~ T J Klune,
818:But no one will weep for me or for them. They have been buried, nameless, beneath five centuries of time.
I am a vampire.
My name is Vittorio, and I write this now in the tallest tower of the ruined mountaintop castle in which I was born, in the northernmost part of Tuscany, that most beautiful of lands in the very center of Italy. ~ Anne Rice,
819:Habit, routine, and too much consistency numb our minds and pave the road for us to sleepwalk through our lives. Nothing stays the same. Everything passes, and everything changes. However, do not move too much. As an apple tree cannot bear fruit if it is too often transplanted, neither will a knight who is always building a new castle. ~ Ethan Hawke,
820:He mouthed the words to her that she could not see, and that she could not hear. It was all he dared tonight, strangers in a castle, strangers to this land, their future a great black question mark and an ending he could not foresee. He bent his lips to her ear and said without breathe:
Lia-heart. Little dragon. I love you too. ~ Shana Abe,
821:The Word of God will be to you a bulwark and a high tower, a castle of defense against the foe. Oh, see to it that the Word of God is in you, in your very soul, permeating your thoughts, and so operating upon your outward life, that all may know you to be a true Bible-Christian, for they perceive it in your words and deeds. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,
822:They come in search of new things, but when they leave they are basically the same people they were when they arrived. They climb the mountain to see the castle, and they wind up thinking that the past was better than what we have now. They have blond hair, or dark skin, but basically they're the same as the people who live right here ~ Paulo Coelho,
823:Her suspicions seethed. Over sixty, with a life of violence behind him, Buccleuch had been a broken man after the affair at Liddel Castle. More recently, however, the light of purpose had entered his eye, and, nimble as an elderly rectangular goblin, he had vanished and reappeared at Branxholm until they had all gone off their food. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
824:I'm tired of waiting by the phone, and second-guessing what a guy says and trusting someone not to hurt me. Again. I've been storming the relationship castle for fifteen years, and I still don't have my prince. I've got a bunch of battle scars from the field and I want to go home and nurse my wounds. I don't want to fight anymore. ~ Kim Gruenenfelder,
825:This is dumb,' her inner voice persisted. 'Lying in this- albeit ridiculously comfy and beautiful- bed when you're in a castle with talking teapots and wardrobes who gossip. Did Gulliver do this when a prisoner at the Brobdingnagian court? Just sulk and lie around? No, he enjoyed the adventure while doing whatever he could to get home! ~ Liz Braswell,
826:From this height the sleeping city seems like a child's construction, a model which has refused to be constrained by imagination. The volcanic plug might be black Plasticine, the castle balanced solidly atop it a skewed rendition of crenellated building bricks. The orange street lamps are crumpled toffee-wrappers glued to lollipop sticks. ~ Ian Rankin,
827:she saw a man standing on her back porch stoop. And it was a man, not a lawnmower or a vacuum cleaner but an actual man. Luckily, she had time to register the fact that, although he wasn’t Deputy Boeckman, he was also dressed in Castle County khaki. This saved her the embarrassment of screaming like Jamie Lee Curtis in a Halloween movie. ~ Stephen King,
828:Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song that echoed across the grounds and through the castle windows. ~ J K Rowling,
829:When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting. ~ Bram Stoker,
830:Gazing out of the window, the gravel path roared as it was crushed into submission under the wheels of the car that was taking me towards a menacing looking medieval castle with two huge and terrifying turrets that seemingly reached out towards me. I imagined that I was the gravel and the wheels of the car were the social care system. ~ Stephen Richards,
831:The rain beat on the windows and sides of the house, but Peet had sealed the structure well. Not a drop of water leaked in. The tree house swayed and creaked in its perch, and the smell of stew filled their noses. Janner, like the other Igibys, drifted off to sleep, thanking the Maker they were safe and dry in Peet’s castle. Even Podo. ~ Andrew Peterson,
832:He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest? ~ J K Rowling,
833:I am the lady of the castle. My name is exile. My name is anguish. My name is longing. Far from the world on the windy crests of the mountain, I am kept in absolute seclusion, my time passes in an endless reverie, a perpetual swooning. I am both the Sleeping Beauty and the enchanted castle; the princess drowses in the castle of her flesh. ~ Angela Carter,
834:There are moments that change everything, mired in the mass of more ordinary time like insects caught in amber. Without them, life would be a tame, predictable thing. But with them, ah. With them, life does as it will, like lightning, like the wind that blows across the castle battlements, and none may stop it, and none may tell it “no”. ~ Seanan McGuire,
835:Jan had never seen a really sumptuous establishment like Lancut, but he had worked often at Castle Gorka and could see the vast difference between how a count lived, with his fifty horses and forty servants, and how his peasants lived, with meat once a year, a new suit of clothes once every ten years, little medicine and less education. ~ James A Michener,
836:The first thing that Shaytan (Satan) will try to do is get you to stop praying. You know why? Because he has to kill the guard if he wants to penetrate the castle. Once the guard is gone, then Shaytan(satan) can open the floodgates for evil. And he has a lot of patience. He has done this to many people before so he’s experienced as well. ~ Nouman Ali Khan,
837:But the Lady Amalthea and Prince Lir walked and spoke and sang together as blithely as though King Haggard's castle had become a green wood, wild and shadowy with spring. They climbed the crooked towers like hills, picnicked in stone meadows under a stone sky, and splashed up and down stairways that had softened and quickened into streams. ~ Peter S Beagle,
838:It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tost upon the sea: a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle and the adventures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to standing upon the vantage ground of truth . . . and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below. ~ Francis Bacon,
839:I'm constantly pitching one episode where we see life through Castle's eyes. I think Castle's just a little off as far as his perception goes. A very, very clever man, but I want to see the world as Castle sees it - kind of a rose-colored glasses, all the women find him irresistible, all the guys find him super cool and do whatever he says. ~ Nathan Fillion,
840:Maybe Blackmun’s mistake was thinking that a woman could claim privacy as a right in the first place. A man’s home is his castle, but a woman’s body has never been wholly her own. Historically, it’s belonged to her nation, her community, her father, her family, her husband—in 1973, when Roe was decided, marital rape was legal in every state. ~ Katha Pollitt,
841:Probably lots of people have died in the castle,' Susannah was saying sleepily. 'Cats, too. Lots of cats. The whole courtyard is probably full of graves, and we walk over them all the time.'

'I think,' Layla said, quite seriously, 'that people and cats turn back to the earth after a while. So what you walk over is just earth, Susannah. ~ Eloisa James,
842:Phenex gently took the biscuit from her, examined it for a moment, and then, in a blur of movement, pelted Gadreel with it. It hit him squarely in the forehead before landing in his bisque, making it splatter.
Gadreel bared his teeth. "I was playing."
"So am I. It's a game called Whack-a-Douche. I just set the all-time high score. ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
843:There was no way Baz was consciously mimicking the pose of the Howl’s Moving Castle figurine, yet this was exactly what he was doing. Elijah’s imagination completed the shadows into dark wings, but otherwise it was the same: shorter, hesitant Elijah standing before the taller, hunched, aching Baz, tentatively trying to capture his attention. ~ Heidi Cullinan,
844:I expected something a little more castle-shaped," said Jamie.
Nothing lasts forever," Nick said. "Except demons, of course."
Has anyone ever told you that you're a charming conversationalist?" Jamie asked.
No," Nick replied honestly.
I cannot tell you how much that surprises me," Jamie told him, and Nick gave him a half smile. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,
845:He'd been a fool, he saw that now. How could he have thought, even for a minute, that they'd be safe out here in the suburbs? The world was violent, rotten, corrupt, seething with hatred and perversion, and there was no escaping it. Everything you worked for, everything you loved, had to be locked up as if you were in a castle under siege. ~ T Coraghessan Boyle,
846:The whole reason I wanted to take Owen to Disney World is that I fear that someday he's going to look through his childhood photo album and wonder why all his vacations with his aunt took place at places like the McKinley Memorial and Wounded Knee. And yet here we are. Powell's cemetery was just too close to Cinderella's Castle for me to pass up. ~ Sarah Vowell,
847:Didn’t I promise you we could make out in a castle?” Chuckling, I drew my hand back. “You did. And to take me on dates. Real dates with no swords or ghosts or angst.”
“Well, there you go,” he said. “As soon as we’ve saved the world from a demon invasion, it’s you, me, and Applebee’s” I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning now. “Oh, the romance. ~ Rachel Hawkins,
848:Back home, the dank and mildewstinking halls of Quinlan Castle, and she pauses on the concrete front steps to shake the rain off Jerome's happy yellow umbrella, flaps it open and closed, open and closed, making a furious noise like the death throes of a giant bat or a pterodactyl, spraying a thousand droplets across the steps and the sidewalk. ~ Caitl n R Kiernan,
849:Lady Tina DeSilva. The president of the Ryan Foxheart Fan Club Castle Lockes Chapter. And my most mortal of enemies. “Oh look, everyone. Mervin has arrived and he brought the muffins. If past experiences have any prescience as to what we can expect, then they’re sure to be as dry as his conversational skills.” She was also sixteen years old. And evil. ~ T J Klune,
850:Nobody’s going to save you.
No one’s going to cut you down
cut the thorns around you.
No one’s going to storm
the castle walls nor
kiss awake your birth,
climb down your hair,
nor mount you
onto the white steed.

There is no one who
will feed the yearning.
Face it. You will have
to do, do it yourself. ~ Gloria E Anzald a,
851:There was a huge moon over the western mountains, and it made the city seem even more mysterious and old, and the great black castle on the ridge stood out in front of the moon. And if there are ghosts anyplace in the world, they must be here, and if there is a ghost of Queen Tamara, she must have been walking the ridge in the moonlight that night. ~ John Steinbeck,
852:Of course, few of the conservative politicians—libertarians aside—who have pushed the extension of the castle doctrine would see the clear resonance with the argument for women’s reproductive rights that would naturally flow from such an idea. After all, at its ideological core, this doctrine is about male identity, male property, and male bodies. ~ Marc Lamont Hill,
853:So if you can figure out a way to get in a design war with a company big enough that its software is designed by product managers, they’ll never be able to keep up with you. These opportunities are not easy to find, though. It’s hard to engage a big company in a design war, just as it’s hard to engage an opponent inside a castle in hand-to-hand combat. ~ Paul Graham,
854:Split the Castle open,
find me, find you.
We, two, felt sand,
wind, air.
One felt whip. Whipped,
Once shipped.
We, two, black.
Me, you.
One grew from
cocoa's soil, birthed from nut,
skin uncut, still bleeding.
We two, wade.
The waters seem different
but are same.
Our same. Sister skin.
Who knew? Not me. Not you ~ Yaa Gyasi,
855:We’ve got what’s called a Castle Doctrine in this state. Most states have something like it. Basically, it means that a man’s home, a person’s home—it means that a person’s home is their castle and that they can use whatever force they deem necessary to defend it. So if somebody breaks into your house, gun or no gun, well, you can do what you see fit. ~ Samuel Hawley,
856:The Castle—a man haunted by the feeling that he was losing himself or wandering into a strange country, farther than he had ever wandered before, a country so strange that not even the air had anything in common with his native air, where one might die of strangeness, and yet whose enchantment was such that one could only go on and lose oneself further… ~ Miles Harvey,
857:…like the horse in the old ballads, which Romanticism found in the medieval castle and left in the streets of our own century. The Romanticists rode the poor best until he was so nearly dead that he finally lay down in the gutter, where the realists found him, his flesh eaten away by sores and worms, and, out of pity, carried him away to their books. ~ Machado de Assis,
858:Signore, come muore un uomo quando viene privato della consolazione della letteratura?”
“In uno o due modi,” disse lui, “per pietrificazione del cuore o per atrofia del sistema nervoso.”
“Entrambi poco piacevoli, immagino” azzardai.
“Per niente piacevoli” disse Castle il vecchio. “Per l'amor di Dio, vi prego, continuate a scrivere, tutti e due! ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
859:Aside from being worked to death, there were more than sixty methods of murder catalogued in Mauthausen including beatings, shootings, hangings, medical experiments, injection with petrol, and various forms of torture. The final death toll in the camp complex is unknown, as many prisoners were killed in a mobile van or sent to a nearby castle to be gassed ~ Wendy Holden,
860:Around 11 P.M., unable to concentrate on his work or even watch the news, he had started to wonder if this was how it started with stalkers. And then he started to think maybe he'd do his next article as an investigation of stalkers. But then he wondered... if you do a ride-along with a stalker, are you stalking the stalker?

It all got very weird. ~ Richard Castle,
861:Everything changed when I learned to honour my body instead of fighting it. When I learned to take care of it, like a precious castle to protect this weary heart. To stop harming it, punishing it for looking like this or that, feeling like this or that. I don’t look like they all told me I had to, but I’m healthy and strong and vital. That is enough. ~ Charlotte Eriksson,
862:Ow! Shit!" She yelped, dropping the wand on the floor and clapping her hand over her eye, the one into which she'd just smooshed a nice glob of viscous black goo. She fumbled for a wash cloth, wet it, and scrubbed at her watering eye. Years of exposure to her foul-mouthed brothers came pouring out all at once. "Piece of shit god damn son of a bitch! ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
863:Since moving to the Castle, she’d discovered that only the white men talked of “black magic.” As though magic had a color. Effia had seen a traveling witch who carried a snake around her neck and shoulders. This woman had had a son. She’d sung lullabies to him at night and held his hands and kept him fed, same as anyone else. There was nothing dark about her. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
864:All cultures have things to learn from all other cultures. Don’t get stuck in your culture! Go beyond it! Get out of your aquarium; get out of your farm; get out of your castle; break your bell jar! Give chance to other cultures and to other opinions! This is the best way for you to see the insufficiencies, absurdities and stupidities in your culture! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
865:Doubt tears down the castle walls we have built, with the false security and permanence they give, and forces us outside to walk a lonely, trying, yet cleansing road. In those times, it definitely feels like God is against us, far away, or absent altogether. But what if the darkness is actually a moment of God’s presence that seems like absence, a gift of God ~ Peter Enns,
866:Quaint stone cottages lined the cobblestone streets, and an immense ocean lay to the far right, dozens of pirate-like ships riding its gentle waves. In the distance, a castle towered up to touch the blue-gray sky, its tallest spears hiding in the misty cloud cover.
Paradise.
Sorin stood up beside Clara.
“What is this place?”
“It’s where I belong. ~ Paige Ray,
867:While at Windsor Castle looking at the swirling power of the “Deluge drawings” that he made near the end of his life, I asked the curator, Martin Clayton, whether he thought Leonardo had done them as works of art or of science. Even as I spoke, I realized it was a dumb question. “I do not think that Leonardo would have made that distinction,” he replied. ~ Walter Isaacson,
868:She reminds me of Rapunzel. You know, like in the fairytale. The only time she leaves that house is to take her mother to her few social activities, or to run errands for her."
No, Adam thought. That's not the only time she leaves.
He turned to look at her house, more curious than he wanted to be.
Rapunzel had been sneaking out of the castle. ~ Sarah Addison Allen,
869:thick trees stood on either side of the wide front door.  A thick stone wall, nearly as tall as Shane’s father, protected the whole property. “What do you think, kid?” his father asked as he parked the car in the long driveway. “Is it a castle?” Shane asked. His mother let out a pleased laugh, and his father shook his head. “No, kid.  The Andersons, well, they ~ Ron Ripley,
870:And then, in the space of a second, he understood it. He understood the reason he’d walked this castle every night in the dark. Learning the length and breadth of every room, arch, corridor, and stair. It wasn’t about regaining his strength, or mastering the space that was now his home and prison. He’d done it all for one purpose:

So he could get to her. ~ Tessa Dare,
871:Everything changed when I learned to honour my body instead of fighting it. When I learned to take care of it, like a precious castle to protect this weary heart. To stop harming it, punishing it for looking like this or that, feeling like this or that. I don't look like they all told me I had to do, but I'm healthy and strong and vital. That is enough. ~ Charlotte Eriksson,
872:I haven't any objection to your thoroughly despising me, right now, because I'm convinced you'll come to love me. You'll find I have some tremendous abysses, some huge, focused emotions that fools think of as vices, but you'll never find me lazy, and you'll never find me ungrateful. In a word, I'm neither a pawn nor a bishop, my young friend, but a castle. ~ Honor de Balzac,
873:I wanted to make a fan film for a character I've always loved and believed in - a love letter to Frank Castle & his fans. It was an incredible experience with everyone on the project throwing in their time just for the fun of it. It's been a blast to be a part of from start to finish - we hope the friends of Frank enjoy watching it as much as we did making it. ~ Thomas Jane,
874:The door shut behind them all, and locked. The women stared at it, mesmerized, and observed across it the wavering shadow of an uncanny cloud. Behind the chamfered windows the sun was obscured by drifting wreaths of grey smoke, and the silence filled with the crackling of flames. The youngest surviving Crawford, in leaving, had deftly set fire to the castle. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
875:1014
The Spirit Is The Conscious Ear
733
The Spirit is the Conscious Ear.
We actually Hear
When We inspect—that's audible—
That is admitted—Here—
For other Services—as Sound—
There hangs a smaller Ear
Outside the Castle—that Contain—
The other—only—Hear—
~ Emily Dickinson,
876:As to what good qualities there may be in our souls, or Who dwells within them, or how precious they are -- those are things which we seldom consider and so we trouble little about carefully preserving the soul's beauty. All our interest is centred in the rough setting of the diamond, and in the outer wall of the castle -- that is to say, in these bodies of ours. ~ Teresa of vila,
877:Before the Prince can save the damsel in distress, he has to slay the dragons that surround her castle. So do we all. Those dragons are our demons, our wounds, our egos, our brilliant ways of denying love to ourselves and others. The ego’s patterns have to be rooted out, detoxed from our system, before the pure love within us can have a chance to come forth. ~ Marianne Williamson,
878:the runway style. With her short hair freshly died platinum blonde she had to slay the scene in a black Crooks and Castle snapback, diamond stud earrings, gold collar necklace, red Crooks and Castle sweatshirt, Cartier gold men’s watch, black leather leggings, Saint Laurent suede peep-toe lace-up booties and a extra sickening red $7750 VBH Brera ostrich satchel bag. ~ Keisha Ervin,
879:We've witnessed a fire sale of American liberties at bargain basement prices, in return for the false promise of more security... The America being designed right now won't resemble the America we've been defending... The danger isn't that Big Brother may storm the castle gates. The danger is that Americans don't realize that he is already inside the castle walls. ~ Wayne LaPierre,
880:October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. ~ J K Rowling,
881:Who you really are, your True Nature, is no more tied to the kind of person you've been than the wind is tied to the skies through which it moves. Your past is just that, the past, a place within your psyche with no more reality to it than a picture of a castle on a postcard is made from stone. You have a destination far beyond where you find yourself standing today. ~ Guy Finley,
882:And, most vivid of all, there was the dramatic epic of the rats - the scampering army of obscene vermin which had burst forth from the castle three months after the tragedy that doomed it to desertion - the lean, filthy, ravenous army which had swept all before it and devoured fowl, cats, dogs, hogs, sheep, and even two hapless human beings before its fury was spent. ~ H P Lovecraft,
883:In this prudent way every portion of the Castle Gorka hogs was utilized: the good cuts for the banquet, the tougher ones in Pani Danusia’s pierogi, the haslet in Anulka’s kielbasa. This good husbandry was symbolic of the rational way in which Poland had organized itself in the year 1646, when magnates, gentry and peasants were about as happy as they had ever been. ~ James A Michener,
884:Does that sound naïve?” “Yes,” he said flatly. Poppy’s lips quirked, although she felt nothing close to actual amusement. “I’m sure I’ve read too many fairy tales. The prince is supposed to slay the dragon, defeat the villain, and marry the servant girl, and carry her off to his castle.” “Fairy tales are best read as entertainment,” Harry said. “Not as a guide to life. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
885:Here, how did you get out of the castle?" said Granny.

"The esteemed Nanny Ogg assisted me," said the king. "I reasoned, if I am anchored to the stones of Lancre, then I can also go where the stones go. I am afraid I indulged in a little trickery to arrange matters. Currently I am haunting her apron."

"Not the first, either," said Granny, automatically. ~ Terry Pratchett,
886:Wicked girl,’ Hamish chided, laughing into her hair. She felt the familiar wave of jealousy, battling her heart’s desire to give herself to him without fear. The thought of having that French vixen back under the roof of Castle Kintochlochie made her feel quite nauseous. It would take all her self-control not to throw a cup of hot coffee into Felicité’s lap. ~ Emmanuelle de Maupassant,
887:Jeb frowns. “You didn’t give Ivory the chance to explain, did you? You went flying all over the castle half-naked to find me without letting her finish.”
I clench my jaw.
He turns me to face him. His face flushes with color and he looks strong and healthy again. His frown turns into a smile, those dimples a vision too lovely for words. “Classic Al.” ~ A G Howard,
888:Ochoa pulled the door and held it open for her. Nikki pivoted around the jamb, squaring her aim up the hall. She stopped, still holding her combat stance, shook her head, and mumbled, “Mother...”
...Rook was standing halfway up the hall with Paxton snugged behind him holding the gun to his head. He looked at Nikki sheepishly and said, “So, I’m gonna guess it’s Noah. ~ Richard Castle,
889:Elizabeth Castle looked up from her screen and focused on nothing much, as if running through a number of possible scenarios, and the consequent next steps in all the different circumstances, starting, Reacher assumed, with him being an idiot and getting the town wrong, in which case the next step would be to get rid of him, no doubt politely, but also no doubt expeditiously. ~ Lee Child,
890:High in a turret of a great castle rising on a black crag above snowy plains, besieged and grand, crammed full of an empire’s treasure, and he sitting by a log fire with a sad and lovely princess. . . . I used to dream about such things, he thought. I used to long for them, ache for them. They seemed the very stuff of life, its essence. So why does all this taste of ashes? ~ Iain M Banks,
891:With diminished concentration, loss of memory, obscured intelligence ... the more chance there is for saying something closest to what one really is. Even though everything seems inexpressible, there remains the need to express. A child needs to make a sand castle even though it makes no sense. In old age, with only a few grains of sand, one has the greatest possibility. ~ Samuel Beckett,
892:Jimmy said, “Probably very little. If I had to guess, I’d say that he designed the castle, picked the location and period of history he wanted, then built this passage a few hundred years earlier. Why artificially age the place when it’s just as easy to let it age on its own?” Phillip was amazed. “All these years of time-travel experience, and that simply didn’t occur to me. ~ Scott Meyer,
893:A heavy wooden door waited at the end of the staircase, blocking all sound from beyond. Aurora stared at it. She had not walked through it in years, not since her father decided that even the rest of the castle was unsafe for her. It was longer than years now. Lifetimes. The door had marked the way out, the way to freedom, for her whole quiet little life. What was it now? ~ Rhiannon Thomas,
894:Ty: Just words I like. If I say them to myself, it makes my mind - quieter. Does it bother you?
Kit: No. I was just curious what words you liked.
Ty: It's not the meaning, just the sound. Glass, twin, apple, whisper, stars, crystal, shadow, lilt.
Kit: Whisper would be one of mine, too. Cloud, secret, highway, hurricane, mirror, castle, thorns.
Ty: Blackthorns. ~ Cassandra Clare,
895:Husband,” she protested. “I can ride. I am not hurt.” “Yer gown is torn and bloodied and ye’ve added yet another bruise to yer pretty face. Do no’ tell me yer no’ hurt,” he said grimly, shifting her about before him until she was pressed snugly up against his groin. Satisfied with her position, he then gestured for the others to follow, and turned his horse toward the castle. ~ Lynsay Sands,
896:And thank you for giving meaning to my life. I came into this world in order to go through everything I've gone through: attempted suicide, ruining my heart, meeting you, coming up to this castle, letting you engrave my face on your soul. That is the only reason I came into the world, to make you go back to the path you strayed from. Don't make me feel my life has been in vain. ~ Paulo Coelho,
897:Merit is a work for the sake of which Christ gives rewards. But no such work is to be found, for Christ gives by promise. Just as if a prince should say to me, "Come to me in my castle, and I will give you a hundred florins." I do a work, certainly, in going to the castle, but the gift is not given me as the reward of my work in going, but because the prince promised it to me. ~ Martin Luther,
898:We must be kind and forgive one another or we won't survive. But even among the most religious there seems to be a great blind spot covering the world, an inability to learn from past experience. Civilization is as precarious as a sand castle. All the care and effort it took to create it can be knocked down in a second by some bully or another. And the world is full of bullies. ~ Fannie Flagg,
899:When you're looking for a hunter," she said, slipping out of her coat, "you go to places where they tend to congregate. Unfortunately, the Trap Door is just that sort of dive. The big surprise here is you. Back in aurora springs you didn't spend a lot of time in the usual hunter hangouts. You're not wearing your seal ring, either. What's up? are you here incognito or something? ~ Jayne Castle,
900:I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina. ~ Bram Stoker,
901:She heard the sound of one tremendous flap and looked up in time to see the man who’d put a hole in the roof of her stable hovering in the air over her castle looking down at her. For the space of a breath, Sam’s heart completely stopped beating in her chest at what she saw in the bright light of day. Those were wings. They were real. And then she fainted dead away in her garden. ~ Paula Quinn,
902:I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey Maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina. In ~ Bram Stoker,
903:I wonder," she said. "Does this castle have a moat?" A group of servants were busy emptying the privy buckets into the moat when they were startled by a sudden drawn-out cry. They looked up in time see a scarlet-and-gold clad figure sail out of a first-story window, turn over once and then land with an enormus splash in the dark, rancid waters. They shrugged and went back to work. ~ John Flanagan,
904:I know. i don't understand it," Max shook his head, bewildered. "Am I seeing things?"
"Couldn't have been a trick of the mind, could it? Nostalgia, a remembrance of old friends?" Jordan suggested.
"Or his ghost?" Rohan added.
They just looked at him.
"I grew up in a haunted castle, boys. If you've never had a ghost try to push you down the stairs, you've never lived. ~ Gaelen Foley,
905:How can a troubled mind Understand the way? If a man is disturbed He will never be filled with knowledge. An untroubled mind, No longer seeking to consider What is right and what is wrong, A mind beyond judgements, Watches and understands. Know that the body is a fragile jar, And make a castle of your mind. In every trial Let understanding fight for you To defend what you have won. ~ Gautama Buddha,
906:Tom." Mrs. Sprye's tone was severe. "I expect you to look after this boy, not encourage him to go about brawling in the street. In broad daylight!"
Tom was stung. "It's nigh impossible to brawl in the dark, Mrs. Sprye. And look—" He put his hands on Trumpet's shoulders and turned him full circle. "Scarcely a scratch on him. A bit dirty, true, but I believe that Pygmies can be washed. ~ Anna Castle,
907:You should have seen the face of the cook at Denbigh Castle when Prince Dafydd entered the kitchen for the first time,” Ieuan chimed in, laughing at the memory. “She was horrified.” “You liked what I made though, didn’t you?” David said. And then, accusingly, “You said you did!” Ieuan sucked down more of his drink, but didn’t answer, though his mouth was twitching under his mustache. ~ Sarah Woodbury,
908:However strong you may think yourself, you cannot enter the Mansions by your own efforts: God, the Lord of the Castle Himself, must admit you to them. He is a great Lover of humility. Once you have been shown how to enjoy this Castle, you will find rest in everything, even in the things which most try you, and you will cherish the returning to it which nobody can take from you.’27 ~ Padma Aon Prakasha,
909:Strangers, modest enough elsewhere, started up at dinners in Coketown, and boasted, in quite a rampant way, of Bounderby.  They made him out to be the Royal arms, the Union-Jack, Magna Charta, John Bull, Habeas Corpus, the Bill of Rights, An Englishman’s house is his castle, Church and State, and God save the Queen, all put together.  And as often (and it was very often) as an orator ~ Charles Dickens,
910:I wonder," she said. "Does this castle have a moat?"

A group of servants were busy emptying the privy buckets into the moat when they were startled by a sudden drawn-out cry. They looked up in time see a scarlet-and-gold clad figure sail out of a first-story window, turn over once and then land with an enormus splash in the dark, rancid waters. They shrugged and went back to work. ~ John Flanagan,
911:My mother hums a haunting melody, one that I think she made up. She used to sing it to us when she was in her half-lucid state. A wordless tune that is both sad and nostalgic. It may have had words to it at one point because every time I hear it, it evokes a sunset over the ocean, an ancient castle, and a beautiful princess who throws herself off the castle walls into the pounding surf below. ~ Susan Ee,
912:He wanted what evil men always want: to have power and use that power to make mischief. Being a King did not interest him because the heads of Kings all too often found their way to spikes on castle walls when things went wrong. But the advisors to Kings…the spinners in the shadows…such people usually melted away like evening shadows at dawning as soon as the headsman’s axe started to fall. ~ Stephen King,
913:Fairy-tale city. From the air, red rooftops hug a kink in a dark river, and by night the forested hills appear as spans of black nothing against the dazzle of the lit castle, the spiking Gothic towers, the domes great and small. The river captures all the lights and teases them out, long and wavering, and the side-slashing rain blurs it all to a dream. This was Akiva’s first sight of Prague; ~ Laini Taylor,
914:Harry hurtled around a corner and found Fred and a small knot of students, including Lee Jordan and Hannah Abbott, standing beside another empty plinth, whose statue had concealed a secret passageway. Their wands were drawn and they were listening at the concealed hole.
“Nice night for it!” Fred shouted as the castle quaked again, and Harry sprinted by, elated and terrified in equal measure. ~ J K Rowling,
915:No one is here," Char said. "You need resist temptation no longer." "Only if you slide too." "I'll go first so I can catch you at the bottom." He flew down so incautiously that I suspected him of years of practice in his own castle. It was my turn. The ride was a dream, longer and steeper than the rail at home. The hall rose to meet me, and Char was there. He caught me and spun me around. ~ Gail Carson Levine,
916:Briette balled up the rag and flung it down. It struck the marble floor with a wet smack. She worked herself down to sit in the window niche and pried off her cumbersome shoes. At least the midsummer ball wasn’t held in her castle. It spared her the task of scrubbing away the marks of muddy heels tomorrow. The ball was being given by the Duke of Merridell in the kingdom’s wealthiest town. Briette ~ Anita Valle,
917:Do you think they’ll keep us together?” Pyp wondered as they gorged themselves happily. Toad made a face. “I hope not. I’m sick of looking at those ears of yours.” “Ho,” said Pyp. “Listen to the crow call the raven black. You’re certain to be a ranger, Toad. They’ll want you as far from the castle as they can. If Mance Rayder attacks, lift your visor and show your face, and he’ll run off screaming. ~ Anonymous,
918:Las Vegas has become a child's picture-book dream of a city -- here a storybook castle, there a sphinx-flanked black pyramid beaming white light into the darkness as a landing beam for UFOs, and everywhere neon oracles and twisting screens predict happiness and good fortune, announce singers and comedians and magicians in residence or on their way, and the lights always flash and beckon and call. ~ Neil Gaiman,
919:So, I went to Germany and ended up parasailing around this castle. I was in Germany sightseeing, eating Bratwurst and hanging out in beer gardens. And then, I got back from Germany and got a call where they were like, "We need to fly you to New York tomorrow to read with Taylor [Schilling]." I was like, "Wait, for Alex, the manipulative drug-smuggling lesbian girl?!," and they were like, "Yeah." ~ Laura Prepon,
920:Vera and Moira are cuddled up on the couch, both in frilly, pink, little-girl nightgowns.

“Hey, Maddie, you want to watch Miss Lovey’s Luminous Leggings with us?” Vera asks.

Dear Lord, yes. Yes, I would love to do anything other than what I’m about to do.

“Sorry, I have plans. Remember?” I wink at her.

“Right, right, right. Have fun storming the castle!” She waves. ~ Leah Rae Miller,
921:He knew what they said of him locally: Oh, he likes to keep himself to himself. The phrase was descriptive, not judgemental. It was a principle of life the English still respected. And it wasn't just about privacy, about an Englishman's home—even a pebbledash semi—being his castle. It was about something more: about the self, and where you kept it, and who, if anyone, was allowed to fully see it. ~ Julian Barnes,
922:Tabby didn’t mince words when she gave a pointed warning to his fans in the pages of Castle Rock two months after Misery was published: “In some very real way, you, the readers, know this man very well. I would like to suggest that you do not know him at all. In seventeen years of marriage, I am still discovering things I did not know about Steve, and I hope he’s still discovering the unknown in me. ~ Lisa Rogak,
923:Yet if women are so flighty, fickle, changeable, susceptible, and inconstant (as some clerks would have us believe), why is it that their suitors have to resort to such trickery to have their way with them? And why don't women quickly succumb to them, without the need for all this skill and ingenuity in conquering them? For there is no need to go to war for a castle that is already captured. ~ Christine de Pizan,
924:It is certainly not then—not in dreams—but when one is wide awake, in moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness, that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits, from the mast, from the past and its castle tower. And although nothing much can be seen through the mist, there is somehow the blissful feeling that one is looking in the right direction. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
925:It is certainly not then-not in dreams- but when one is wide awake, at moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness, that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits, from the mast, from the past and its castle tower. And although nothing much can be seen through the mist, there is somehow the blissful feeling that one is looking in the right direction. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
926:Harry took the map and grinned.
"You told me Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs would've wanted to lure me out of school... you said they'd have thought it was funny."
"And so we would have done," said Lupin, now reaching down to close his case. "I have no hesitation in saying that James would have been highly disappointed if his son had never found any of the secret passages out of the castle. ~ J K Rowling,
927:No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat’s cradle is nothing but a bunch of X’s between somebody’s hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those X’s…” “And?” “No damn cat, and no damn cradle.” 75 GIVE MY REGARDS TO ALBERT SCHWEITZER And then angela hoenikker conners, Newt’s beanpole sister, came in with Julian Castle, father of Philip, and founder of the House of Hope and Mercy in the Jungle. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
928:To-Night
Harry, you know at night
The larks in Castle Alley
Sing from the attic's height
As if the electric light
Were the true sun above a summer valley:
Whistle, don't knock, to-night.
I shall come early, Kate:
And we in Castle Alley
Will sit close out of sight
Alone, and ask no light
Of lamp or sun above a summer valley:
To-night I can stay late.
~ Edward Thomas,
929:What I love in a woman is not what she is in and for herself, but the side of herself she turns towards me, what she is for me. I love her as character in our common love story. what wuld Hamlet be without the castle at Elsinore, without Ophelia, without all the concrete situations he goes through, what would he be without the text of his part? What would be left but an empty, dumb, illusory essence? ~ Milan Kundera,
930:I've built many doorways and set out traps so that no one will be able to reach this place. That's what the angel said. This is a castle of darkness for the angel and I alone. Only within this yielding gloom can I lament the misfortune that has rained down all around me, only here am I permitted to scorn and pity the ugliness, the filthiness of how I smile and pretend at being pure in the light of day. ~ Mizuki Nomura,
931:How many people would like to be good, if only they might be good without taking trouble about it! They do not like goodness well enough to hunger and thirst after it, or to sell all that they have that they may buy it; they will not batter at the gate of the kingdom of heaven; but they look with pleasure on this or that aerial castle of righteousness, and think it would be rather nice to live in it. ~ George MacDonald,
932:story there was to tell about me. Thalia wiped the fog off the car window and peered outside. ‘Oh, yeah. This’ll be fun.’ Westover Hall looked like an evil knight’s castle. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the grey churning ocean on the other. ‘Are you sure you don’t want ~ Rick Riordan,
933:I mean, we did live in a kingdom, in a castle and all of that, but that didn’t mean we had to pretend we were in King Arthur’s time or something. Well, tonight we did, apparently. Tonight, we’d pretend we didn’t live in the age of the internet, and dating apps, and Facebook, and instead we’d spend the evening dancing with eligible princes, to a string quartet, in gowns. Welcome to the 21st century, right? ~ Madison Faye,
934:Lanek fought the urge to keep a hand at the hilt of his rapier. It had been some time since Rilv had last summoned him—five years now?— but he still remembered quite clearly the dangers this castle represented. Though he had a guard leading him down the posh hallway, he didn’t feel any safer. Perhaps he couldn’t get himself to fully trust the royal guard. Or perhaps he just couldn’t trust anyone anymore. ~ Aaron McGowan,
935:There is a concatenation of events in this best of all possible worlds: for if you had not been kicked out of a magnificent castle for love of Miss Cunegonde: if you had not been put into the Inquisition: if you had not walked over America: if you had not stabbed the Baron: if you had not lost all your sheep from the fine country of El Dorado: you would not be here eating preserved citrons and pistachio-nuts. ~ Voltaire,
936:What are you grinning at?' Nal muttered. As if in response, the gull spread its wings and opened its shadow over the miniature ruins of the castle - too huge, Nal thought, and vaguely humanoid in shape - and then it flew off, laboring heavily against the wind. In the soft moonlight this created the disturbing illusion that the bird had hitched itself to Nal's shadow and was pulling his darkness from him. ~ Karen Russell,
937:And you would know so much about women, locked up in your castle."

"Locked up with eight wives. And sometimes I make house calls for my bargainers. There's many a lovely woman desperate enough to bargain with me."

This idea had never occurred to me before. "You touch another woman and I'll cut your hands off," I snapped.

He looked delighted. "I thought you were afraid of hurting me. ~ Rosamund Hodge,
938:Doubt tears down the castle walls we have built, with the false security and permanence they give, and forces us outside to walk a lonely, trying, yet cleansing road. In those times, it definitely feels like God is against us, far away, or absent altogether. But what if the darkness is actually a moment of God’s presence that seems like absence, a gift of God to help us grow up out of our little ideas of God? ~ Peter Enns,
939:He swam the seas before the continents broke water; he once swam over the site of the Tuileries, and Windsor Castle, and the Kremlin. In Noah's flood he despised Noah's Ark; and if ever the world is to be again flooded, like the Netherlands, to kill off its rats, then the eternal whale will still survive, and rearing upon the topmost crest of the equatorial flood, spout his frothed defiance to the skies. ~ Herman Melville,
940:No, it's that fun we have. It's real. I'm so thankful they cast good, funny, interesting, warm, kind people in “Castle”, because we blend very well together. At this point it's like a family. We help each other. I constantly ask them: “What's funnier: if I do this or I do that?” And I don't think we care anymore about looking weak or unprofessional. We all just want the best for each other and for the show. ~ Seamus Dever,
941:And now--Piertotum Locomotor!” cried Professor McGonagall.
And all along the corridor the statues and suits of armor jumped down from their plinths, and from the echoing crashes from the floors above and below, Harry knew that their fellows throughout the castle had done the same.
“Hogwarts is threatened!” shouted Professor McGonagall. “Man the boundaries, protect us, do your duty to our school! ~ J K Rowling,
942:Even though it was after midnight, the lights were still burning in Baron Arald’s office when Halt and Gilan reached the castle. The Baron and Sir Rodney, Redmont’s Battlemaster, had a lot of planning to do, preparing for the march to the Plains of Uthal, where they would join the rest of the kingdom’s army. When Halt explained Gilan’s need, Sir Rodney was quick to see where the Ranger’s thinking was headed. ~ John Flanagan,
943:The castle-building habit, the day-dreaming habit - how it grows! what a luxury it becomes; how we fly to its enchantments at every idle moment, how we revel in them, steep our souls in them, intoxicate ourselves with their beguiling fantasies - oh, yes, and how soon and how easily our dream-life and our material life become so intermingled and so fused together that we can't quite tell which is which, anymore. ~ Mark Twain,
944:As a child he was deprived of genuine communication. He suffered unspeakably from this deficiency, and all his works describe nothing other than miscommunication, be it The Castle, The Trial, or The Metamorphosis. In all these novels and stories the questions are never heard—they are answered with strange distortions, and the central figures are totally isolated, totally incapable of getting someone to listen. ~ Alice Miller,
945:I, Galloran, master of this castle, rightful heir to the throne at Trensicourt, dub thee Lord Jason of Caberton, herby transmitting all rights and priveleges befitting a nobleman of rank and title."
Jason arose, moved by the simple ceremony despite the Blind King's ruined castle, raspy voice, and tarnished crown.
"What about me?" Rachel asked testily.
"You can be my cook," Jason said, unable to resist. ~ Brandon Mull,
946:Imagine a speck of dust next to a planet a billion times the size of the earth. The speck of dust represents the odds in favor of your being born; the huge planet would be the odds against it. So stop sweating the small stuff. Don’t be like the ingrate who got a castle as a present and worried about the mildew in the bathroom. Stop looking the gift horse in the mouth—remember that you are a Black Swan. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb,
947:Our castle is in need of a good exploration,” he said. “I believe we should schedule one. Perhaps if you have no other plans for Christmas, you might do so then.” Artemis grinned and ran to where they stood, throwing her arms around Adam’s legs. “You’re the best duke that ever lived!” she declared. “Yes, he is.” Persephone smiled up at Adam. “Yes, I am.” Adam didn’t force down his grin. “The luckiest, at least. ~ Sarah M Eden,
948:The king is always watching her out of his pale eyes, wondering what she is, and the king’s son wounds himself with loving her and wonders who she is. And every day she searches the sea and the sky, the castle and the courtyard, the keep and the king’s face, for something she cannot always remember. What is it, what is it that she is seeking in this strange place? She knew a moment ago, but she has forgotten. ~ Peter S Beagle,
949:The king is always watching her out of his pale eyes, wondering what she is, and the king’s son wounds himself with loving her and wonders who she is. And every day she searches the sea and the sky, the castle and the courtyard, the keep and the king’s face, for something she cannot always remember. What is it, what is it that she is seeking in this strange place? She knew a moment ago, but she was forgotten. ~ Peter S Beagle,
950:What’s going on?” Royce asked as throngs of people suddenly moved toward him from the field and the castle interior. “I mentioned that you saw the thing and now they want to know what it looks like,” Hadrian explained. “What did you think? They were coming to lynch you?” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a glass-half-empty kinda guy.” “Half empty?” Hadrian chuckled. “Was there ever any drink in that glass? ~ Michael J Sullivan,
951:Within and about the Forest of Tantrevalles existed a hundred or more fairy shees, each the castle of a fairy tribe. Thripsey Shee on Madling Meadow, little more than a mile within the precincts of the forest, was ruled by King Throbius and his spouse Queen Bossum. His realm included Madling Meadow and as much of the forest surrounding as was consistent with his dignity. The fairies at Thripsey numbered eighty-six. ~ Jack Vance,
952:Reaper?” Tedros blurted. “If you think for one second I’m allowing that Satan-worshipper in my castle—” “Your castle? I thought it was our castle.” “Which means we get a pet we both like.” “No Reaper, no me.” “No you, then.” “You puffed-up, lily-livered, mule-headed—” Agatha stopped and saw Sophie goggling at the two of them. “I really am better off, aren’t I?” said Sophie. All three of them burst into laughter. ~ Soman Chainani,
953:To live his life in his own way, to call his house his castle, to enjoy the fruits of his own labour, to educate his children as his conscience directs, to save for their prosperity after his death -- these are wishes deeply ingrained in civilised man. Their realization is almost as necessary to our virtues as to our happiness. From their total frustration disastrous results both moral and psychological might follow. ~ C S Lewis,
954:I feel like, when we're kids, you're sold into this fairy tale of what love is. That Prince Charming's gonna come along and save you and you're gonna live happily ever after. They're gonna rescue me from the Bronx, and we're gonna go off and live in a castle somewhere and it's gonna be awesome. He's gonna love me forever, and I'm gonna love him forever, and it's gonna be real easy. And it's so different than that. ~ Jennifer Lopez,
955:Bold Gambit Lanek fought the urge to keep a hand at the hilt of his rapier. It had been some time since Rilv had last summoned him—five years now?— but he still remembered quite clearly the dangers this castle represented. Though he had a guard leading him down the posh hallway, he didn’t feel any safer. Perhaps he couldn’t get himself to fully trust the royal guard. Or perhaps he just couldn’t trust anyone anymore. ~ Aaron McGowan,
956:There was a zone she had not explored. She could use the same counter, the same sort of password that she used with all these people, but she had passed over in the twinkling of an eye into another forest. This forest was reality. There, the very speaking of the words, conjured up answering sigil, house and barn and terrace and castle and river and little plum tree. A whole world was open. She looked in through a wide doorway. ~ H D,
957:The crumbling castle, looming among the mists, exhaled the season, and every cold stone breathed it out. The tortured trees by the dark lake burned and dripped, their leaves snatched by the wind were whirled in wild circles through the towers. The clouds mouldered as they lay coiled, or shifted themselves uneasily upon the stone skyfield, sending up wreathes that drifted through the turrets and swarmed up hidden walls. ~ Mervyn Peake,
958:At the end of the day faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don't really expect it. Its like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And its not so important happy ever after, just that its happy right now. See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you , and once in a while people may even take your breath away. ~ Zane Grey,
959:What’s going on?” Royce asked as throngs of people suddenly moved toward him from the field and the castle interior.
“I mentioned that you saw the thing and now they want to know what it looks like,” Hadrian explained. “What did you think? They were coming to lynch you?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a glass-half-empty kinda guy.”
“Half empty?” Hadrian chuckled. “Was there ever any drink in that glass? ~ Michael J Sullivan,
960:He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes, … the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world ~ J K Rowling,
961:Hey,” she murmured. “There are people in the house.”
“There are always people in the house,” I reminded her. “That’s why we escaped up here to the castle tower. Escape plan number . . . hell, I don’t know. I lost count. We haven’t had to come up with some dreamy escape plan in a while.”
Sydney trailed her fingers down the side of my face. “That’s because we’re living it, Adrian. This is the only escape plan we need. ~ Richelle Mead,
962:I’m trying to figure the rules. This isn’t yin and yang, it’s more like yin and yank. The past few days I’ve been going, OK, she doesn’t mix the... romance so well with the single-mindedness of the police work. So it gets me wondering, Is the solution for me to give up our working relationship? Stop my magazine research so we can-?”
Nikki grabbed him into a deep kiss. Then she pulled away and said, “Will you shut up? ~ Richard Castle,
963:O SANITY

It’s only sane to be insane
Psychotic builds a castle
And neurotic lives in it
I don’t know what to do with my sanity
When the world’s at the verge of calamity
O’ sanity, o’ sanity
What am I to do with you
Drink up, shoot up, anything you please
But you’re always standing behind me
Like a devil in hell
O’ sanity, sanity
Why don’t you let me go?
Let go, let go!
Cut it out! ~ Yoko Ono,
964:People from all over the world have passed through this village, son," said his father. "They come in search of new things, but when they leave they are basically the same people they were when they arrived. They climb the mountain to see the castle, and they wind up thinking that the past was better than what we have now. They have blond hair or dark skin, but basically, they're the same as the people who live right here. ~ Paulo Coelho,
965:They always do the same thing - come in, ask for a meal, hide, and then run off with a harp or a bag full of money the minute I fall asleep,' Dobbilan said. 'And they're always named Jack. Always. We've lived in this castle for twenty years, and every three months, regular as clockwork, one of those boys shows up, and there's never been a Tom, Dick, or Harry among 'em. Just Jacks. The English have no imagination. ~ Patricia C Wrede,
966:V.V. sought to express something, which until expressed had only a twilight being (or even none at all--nothing but the illusion of the backward shadow of its imminent expression). It was Ada's castle of cards. It was the standing of a metaphor on its head not for the sake of the trick's difficulty, but in order to perceive an ascending waterful or a sunrise in reverse: a triumph, in a sense, over the ardis of time. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
967:He told them that going willingly to their deaths in Christ’s name was a sure path to salvation. Of course, it was one thing for Bernard to write this, theorizing a thousand miles from the Holy Land and glorifying in a martyrdom he would never himself experience. It was quite another for a band of ninety Templars, called from their castle and told to attack against impossible odds, to swallow down their fear and do it. Yet they did. ~ Dan Jones,
968:I never wanted to be you. I saw what the weight of being the heir did to you. And I’m not talking about what our mother did to you. I’m talking about the mantle of responsibility thrust upon you. Hell at fourteen you practically ran the castle. God knows our father never did. And all Mother wanted to do was throw one grand party after another.” /“Well, somebody had to take responsibility. The place was falling apart.”

. ~ Magda Alexander,
969:Franke writes, “We do know that Holmes advertised his ‘hotel’ as a suitable lodging for visitors to the world’s fair; that no fewer than fifty persons, reported to the police as missing, were traced to the Castle; and that there their trail ended” (109). Schechter: “No one can say exactly how many fairgoers Holmes lured to the Castle between May and October 1893, though he appears to have filled the place to capacity on most nights ~ Erik Larson,
970:I’ve always tried to make the best of what life gave me. When I was a girl, I longed for a kitten. Instead, I got a weasel. Not the pet I wanted by I’ve done my best to love Snowdrop just the same… Since my father died, I’ve been desperate for a place to call home. The humblest cottage would do. Instead, I’ve inherited a haunted, infested castle in Nowhere, Northumberland. Not the home I wanted, but I’m determined to make it a home. ~ Tessa Dare,
971:Kirby didn’t notice him immediately as she stood shyly beside Castle, looking out of place. Grip, and a few of the niggas were posted in VIP when the captain of their crew arrived fashionably late. Now that business was taken care of, they were blowing cash and sipping codeine like it was Kool-Aid. A colorful selection of women was sprinkled throughout their section, each one hoping to claim a made man. Same shit. Different state. ~ Pebbles Starr,
972:They said no man was an island, and Anita figured that was probably true. But women were; they had to be. And even if someone bothered to sail over and disembark, he'd soon discover that there was always a castle at the center of the island, surrounded by a deep moat, with a rickety drawbridge and archers manning the battlements and a big pot of oil posed above the gate, ready to boil alive anyone who dared to cross the threshold. ~ Tommy Wallach,
973:I have sieged many a castle in my day, m'lady, but my attack on your keep will be the sweetest of all."

She giggled as I kissed every inch of her face. "Oh, we're doing medieval now? Okay, I can do that. I've been to a Renaissance Faire. Avast ye varlet! No quarter!"

"That was piratical, dearling, but we'll go with it if you like. Lower your gangplanks and prepare to be boarded!"

-Dane and Megan (Stag Party) ~ Katie MacAlister,
974:She bore an uncanny resemblance to my mother, but the same beauty bloomed differently in each of them. My mother's fairness was exquisite and untouchable, roaming alone in an abandoned castle. Khalto Bahiyas' beauty took you in immediately. Hers was easy and disclosed hordes of laughter stolen from wherever it could be found. Gravity, sun, and time has scrawled on their faces the travails of hard work, childbirth, and destitution. ~ Susan Abulhawa,
975:In places where a loved one has died, time stops for eternity. If I stand on the very spot, one says to oneself, like a prayer, might I feel the pain he felt? They say that on a visit to an old castle or whatever, the history of the place, the presence of people who walked there many years ago, can be felt in the body. Before, when I heard things like that, I would think, what are they talking about? But i felt I understood it now. ~ Banana Yoshimoto,
976:Mark whirled on them. His eyes were blind, unseeing. “You bring the twins in front of me and you kill them over and over. My Ty, he doesn’t understand why I can’t save him. You bring me Dru and when she laughs to see the fairytale castle, all ringed round with hedges, you throw her against the thorns until their pierce her small body. And you bid me wash in Octavian’s blood for the blood of an innocent child is magic under the Hill. ~ Cassandra Clare,
977:Quietly, quietly, all the lines of the plan of the great Castle melted one after another. Quietly, quietly, the ruled and cross-ruled countenance on which they were traced, became fair and blank. Quietly, quietly, the reflected marks of the prison bars and of the zig-zag iron on the wall-top, faded away. Quietly, quietly, the face subsided into a far younger likeness of her own than she had ever seen under the grey hair, and sank to rest. ~ Anonymous,
978:All eyes are on you. It's time to show them what you're made of. There's no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is your night. This is your game. This is your moment. Seize it with everything you've got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don't know how to die quietly. Win because you don't know how to lose. This king's ruled long enough—it's time to tear his castle down. ~ Nora Sakavic,
979:The symbolic power of Barack Obama’s presidency—that whiteness was no longer strong enough to prevent peons from taking up residence in the castle—assaulted the most deeply rooted notions of white supremacy and instilled fear in its adherents and beneficiaries. And it was that fear that gave the symbols Donald Trump deployed—the symbols of racism—enough potency to make him president, and thus put him in position to injure the world. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,
980:St. George’s Chapel is at the bottom of the hill inside the castle walls, and though it is quaint compared to Westminster Abbey, I love it—the spectacular fan vaulting in the ceiling, the surprisingly intimate chapel with its wood-carved stalls, and the graves of at least ten monarchs, including that infamous cad Henry VIII (buried with his third wife, Jane Seymour, his favorite on account of her not living long enough to irritate him). ~ Heather Cocks,
981:Veil, you see, if I vas to say something portentous like "zer dark eyes of zer mind" back home in Uberwald, zer would be a sudden crash of thunder,' said Otto. 'And if I vas to point at a castle on a towering crag and say "Yonder is . . . zer castle" a volf would be bound to howl mournfully.' He sighed. 'In zer old country, zer scenery is psychotropic and knows vot is expected of it. Here, alas, people just look at you in a funny vay. ~ Terry Pratchett,
982:When the Whispering Mountain shall scream aloud
And the castle of Malyn ride on a cloud,
Then Malyn's lord shall have and hold
The lost that is found, the harp of gold.
Then Fig-hat Ben shall wear a shroud,
Then shall the despoiler, that was so proud,
Plunge headlong down from Devil's Leap;
Then shall the Children from darkness creep,
And the men of the glen avoid disaster,
And the Harp of Teirtu find her master. ~ Joan Aiken,
983:Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged and pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind; and the green ivy clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its own might and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry. ~ Charles Dickens,
984:The Scholomance was a piece of Shadowhunter history come to life. A cold castle of towers and corridors carved into the side of a mountain in the Carpathians, it had existed for centuries as a place where the most elite of Shadowhunters were trained to deal with the double menaces of demons and Downworlders. It had been closed when the first Accords were signed: a show of faith that Downworlders and Shadowhunters were no longer at war. ~ Cassandra Clare,
985:I stood panting with my hands clenched at my sides, still ringing head-to-foot, and said, "Is that magic enough to put me on the list? Or do you want to see more?"
They stared at me, and in the silence I heard shouts outside in the courtyard, running feet. The guards were looking in with their hands on their sword-hilts, and I realized I'd just shaken the king's castle, in the king's city, and shouted at the highest wizards of the land. ~ Naomi Novik,
986:During the long climb down the winding staircase Cornelius whispered many more words of direction and advice. Caspian’s heart was sinking, but he tried to take it all in. Then came the fresh air in the garden, a fervent handclasp with the Doctor, a run across the lawn, a welcoming whinny from Destrier, and so King Caspian the Tenth left the castle of his fathers. Looking back, he saw fireworks going up to celebrate the birth of the new prince. ~ C S Lewis,
987:Flakes fell softly, covering the already frozen castle grounds. When she stuck out her tongue, she could feel the flakes land on it. The little droplets of frozen water had the same name she did: Snow.
Was she named for the snow or was the snow named for her? That's what she wondered. She was a princess, so the weather could have been named after her.
Then again, snow had been around a lot longer than she had. She was only seven. ~ Jen Calonita,
988:She no longer wore the meringue-like light blue ridiculous thing. It was instead a strange mix of her outfit when she had lived in the forest and what she had escaped the Thorn Castle in. An old brownish skirt and black corset top- but with a golden shirt that flowed under the corset and over her hips like a tunic. The skirts were all ripped and in tatters.
And her shoes were once again gone.
She shrugged.
"It's 'my' dream, isn't it? ~ Liz Braswell,
989:It is when things go hardest, when life becomes most trying, that there is the greatest need for having a fixed goal, for having an air castle that the outside world cannot wreck. When few comforts come from without, it is all the more necessary to have a fount to draw from within. And the man or woman who has a star toward which to press cannot be thrown off the course, no matter how the world may try, no matter how far things seem to be wrong. ~ B C Forbes,
990:By this time, half the people in High Norland were gathered in Royal Square to stare at the castle. They all watched with disbelief as the castle rose slightly into the air and glided toward the road that led southward. It was hardly more than an alley, really. "It'll never fit!" people said. But the castle somehow squeezed itself narrow enough to drift away along it and out of sight. The citizens of High Norland gave it a cheer as it went. ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
991:If you were my girlfriend I would give you a hundred lightning bugs in a green glass jar, so you could always see your way. I would give you a meadow full of wildflowers, where no two blooms would ever be alike. I would give you my bicycle, with its golden eye to protect you. I would write a story for you, and make you a princess who lived in a white marble castle. If you would only like me, I would give you magic. If you would only like me. ~ Robert R McCammon,
992:I like men and women who don't fit well in the dominant culture, or, as Alvar de Campos calls them, strangers in this place as in every other, accidental in life as in the woul. I like outsiders, phantoms wandering the cobwebbed halls of the doomed castle where life must be lived.

David Grossman may love Israel, but he wanders its cobwebbed halls, just as his namesake Vasily wandered Russia's. To write is to know that you are not home. ~ Rabih Alameddine,
993:Warwick Castle, Oxford University, the Cotswold, and the countryside of England are my favorite places to visit when I’m in England. Whenever I visit, I feel as if I’ve come home. These places inspired my settings for my fantasy series, Bitter Frost Series, Wordwick Games, and The Alchemists Academy. I didn’t know the great author of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy was also inspired by Warwick, Oxford, and Cotswold. Imaginative minds must dream alike. ~ Kailin Gow,
994:We are like children building a sand castle. We embellish it with beautiful shells, bits of driftwood, and pieces of colored glass. The castle is ours, off limits to others. We’re willing to attack if others threaten to hurt it. Yet despite all our attachment, we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes, let it dissolve back into the sea. ~ Pema Ch dr n,
995:We are like children building a sand castle. We embellish it with beautiful shells, bits of driftwood, and pieces of colored glass. The castle is ours, off limits to others. We’re willing to attack if others threaten to hurt it. Yet despite all our attachment, we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes, let it dissolve back into the sea. ~ Pema Chodron,
996:Anon from the castle walls
The crescent banner falls,
And the crowd beholds instead,
Like a portent in the sky,
Iskander's banner fly,
The Black Eagle with double head;
And a shout ascends on high,
For men's souls are tired of the Turks,
And their wicked ways and works,
That have made of Ak-Hissar
A city of the plague;
And the loud, exultant cry
That echoes wide and far
Is: "Long live Scanderbeg! ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
997:At the balls he took me to there were many beautiful young women who didn't say a word. They answered every question with a shrug or a smile. If champagne got spilt down their dresses they only sighed; when the full moon slid out from behind the castle they watched it in silence. I could not understand it. Had they sold their voices too? Even their bodies were silent, always upright, never loosening their lines. They walked like letters on a page. ~ Emma Donoghue,
998:For some companies and investors, it’s all a bit of financial fun. Castle Partners, L.P., a pooled investment vehicle registered in Delaware, bought properties through its Oregon affiliate Castle Advisors using several companies with variations on the name COTD, an apparent play on the seafood menu phrase “Catch Of The Day.” One real estate developer held property in a company called Boondoggle LLC. Another bought six houses with My Financial Workout. ~ Anonymous,
999:But the boy protected Yorda from the shadows-that-walk-alone. He took her hand, defended her, swung his thin arm, and fought with his tiny frame, driving them back. If the shades dragged her into their realm, she would once again become a prisoner, and the boy would turn to stone, a sad adornment in the castle. Yorda knew this. But the boy did not--even as he did not know that Yorda was the property of the queen of the castle--and he protected her. ~ Miyuki Miyabe,
1000:Such music from such a woman could only be a case of schizophrenia or demonic possession. My hair stood on end, as though Angela were rolling on the floor, foaming at the mouth, and babbling fluent Babylonian. When the music was done, I shrieked at Julian Castle, who was transfixed, too, “My God—life! Who can understand even one little minute of it?” “Don’t try,” he said. “Just pretend you understand.” “That’s—that’s very good advice,” I went limp. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1001:His smile faded at the sight of his uncles lightsaber.

“i’ll take that” he said. “It belongs to me”…

“Strange, then, that it called to me at the castle” Rey said, studying the ancient weapon almost idly before snapping her gaze back to Kylo. “And not to you”.

The corner of Kylo’s mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile, and he inclined his head at the soldiers filling the hangar.

“You’re in no position to dictate”

— ~ Jason Fry,
1002:The King sighed. “Sam, ever since the day Morgan brought you to the castle, I knew there was something special about you. It had nothing to do with your magic or whatever Morgan thought you would one day be. It had to do with the size of your heart. You have so much to give to people and I think you sometimes hide it behind your wit and words. I want you to find that someone who makes you feel complete, who allows you to let your guard down and just be. ~ T J Klune,
1003:It will happen instantly, by the way, when you see the years on her and reach for her hand anyway, in a kinetic moment that preludes and rationality whatsoever. You will be afraid of how she interprets this, and you will worry, and the two of you will talk through it, and there will be more moments that defy rationality, more moments than you can imagine, moments that build an entire castle upon an entire world that precludes the very act of thinking. ~ Trevor Dodge,
1004:It will happen instantly, by the way, when you see the years on her and reach for her hand anyway, in a kinetic moment that preludes any rationality whatsoever. You will be afraid of how she interprets this, and you will worry, and the two of you will talk through it, and there will be more moments that defy rationality, more moments than you can imagine, moments that build an entire castle upon an entire world that precludes the very act of thinking. ~ Trevor Dodge,
1005:My brother prefers to let other people put me on the straight and narrow."
Evelyn felt a stab of pity for him suddenly, for he appeared without support of any kind, and she had heard some rumors about his home, Wentworth Castle, being a rather dark and dismal place. But then she reminded herself that he had brought all this on himself. He made his own decisions to misbehave.
"Maybe you need to put yourself there," she told him flatly. ~ Julianne MacLean,
1006:Past the turn I might find a mark of Constance’s foot, because she sometimes came that far to wait for me, but most of Constance’s prints were in the garden and in the house. Today she had come to the end of the garden, and I saw her as soon as I came around the turn; she was standing with the house behind her, in the sunlight, and I ran to meet her. “Merricat,” she said, smiling at me, “look how far I came today.” —We Have Always Lived in the Castle ~ Ruth Franklin,
1007:You had every right to be. He raised his eyes to look at her and she was suddenly and strangely reminded of being four years old at the beach, crying when the wind came up and blew away the castle she had made. Her mother had told her she could make another one if she liked, but it hadn't stopped her crying because what she had thought was permanent was not permanent after all, but only made out of sand that vanished at the touch of wind and water. ~ Cassandra Clare,
1008:Half-mast the castle banner droops, The Laird’s lament was played yestreen, An’ mony a widowed cottar wife Is greetin’ at her shank aleen. In Freedom’s cause, for ane that fa’s, We’ll glean the glens an’ send them three, To clip the reivin’ eagle’s claws An’ drook his feathers i’ the sea. For gallant loons, in brochs an’ toons,
Are leavin’ shop an’ yaird an’ mill, A’ keen to show baith friend an’ foe Auld Scotland counts for something still. ~ Winston S Churchill,
1009:How long would it be before the elements toppled these small structures as they had already toppled the broch and the castle? Would future archaeologists dig here, or had records grown so precise every aspect of the recent past would be charted and ready for those who wanted to know? Maybe, soon enough, there would be no one left, no world to chronicle and argue over. All things must end, why not this too? The thought almost had the power to cheer him. ~ Louise Welsh,
1010:You are making a great deal of noise considering you have just recovered from a cold.” “I’m celebrating my recovery and the regaining of my independence. One cannot celebrate quietly,” Elle said. It was only partially true—she was also making a sweep of the castle. She had forsaken her duties during her cold and was anxious to get back to them lest she miss something. “I don’t suppose you do much of anything quietly,” Severin said. “Correct. Jock!” Severin ~ K M Shea,
1011:I have no parents I make the heavens and earth my parents I have no home I make awareness my home I have no life or death I make the tides of breathing my life and death I have no divine power I make honesty my divine power I have no friends I make my mind my friend I have no enemy I make carelessness my enemy I have no armor I make benevolence my armor I have no castle I make immovable-mind my castle I have no sword I make absence of self my sword. ~ Joseph Goldstein,
1012:Anyone who has walked through the deserted palaces of Versailles or Vienna realise how much of a part of the life of a nation is lost when a monarchy is abolished. If buckingham palace and windsor castle were transformed into museums, if one politician competed against another for president of the republic, Britain would be a sadder and less interesting place. Our politicians are not men such as could challenge more than a thousand years of history. ~ William Rees Mogg,
1013:The local coachman used to warn visitors, you see. “Don’t go near the castle,” they’d say. “Even if it means spending a night up a tree, never go up there to the castle,” they’d tell people. “Whatever you do, don’t set foot in that castle.” He said it was marvellous publicity. Sometimes he had every bedroom full by 9 p.m. and people would be hammering on the door to get in. Travellers would go miles out of their way to see what all the fuss was about. ~ Terry Pratchett,
1014:But first,” Morpheus said with a dismissive sweep of his hand, “we have to be sure what we’re up against when we raid the castle. You and Alyssa managed to take out quite a chunk of the opposition with your fancy footwork. We’re here to assess if the numbers match up with the ones Rabid reported. We must ensure that Grenadine doesn’t have any cards hidden up her sleeve.” He slapped Jeb on the back. “See what I did there? ‘Cards up her sleeve’?” He chuckled. ~ A G Howard,
1015:For our Titanic purposes of faith and revolution, what we need is not the cold acceptance of the world as a compromise, but some way in which we can heartily hate and heartily love it. We do not want joy and anger to neutralise each other and produce a surly contentment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. We have to feel the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening. ~ G K Chesterton,
1016:Master Chubb?' Malcolm asked. Halt grinned at the memory of that day. 'He's the chef at Castle Redmont. A formidable man, wouldn't you say, Horace?' Horace grinned in his turn. 'He's deadly with his wooden ladle,' he said. 'Fast and accurate. And very painful. I once suggested that he should give ladle-whacking lessons to Battleschool students.' 'You were joking, of course?' Malcolm said. Horace looked thoughtful before he replied. 'You know, not entirely. ~ John Flanagan,
1017:There is no period in history when it would have been better to be alive than today. People who fantasise about a romantic past imagine themselves living in Pharaoh’s court, Caesar’s palace, Plato’s athenaeum, a medieval knight’s manor, a king’s castle, a queen’s château, an emperor’s citadel, a cardinal’s cathedral. But the cold, hard reality is that 99.99 per cent of all the people who ever lived existed in what we would today consider squalid poverty. ~ Michael Shermer,
1018:I am drunk with the honey wine
Of the moon-unfolded eglantine,
Which fairies catch in hyacinth bowls.
The bats, the dormice, and the moles
Sleep in the walls or under the sward
Of the desolate castle yard;
And when tis spilt on the summer earth
Or its fumes arise among the dew,
Their jocund dreams are full of mirth,
They gibber their joy in sleep; for few
Of the fairies bear those bowls so new!

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Wine Of The Fairies
,
1019:October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the matron, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking peaky, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. ~ J K Rowling,
1020:I will read you their names directly; here they are in my pocket-book. Castle of Wolfenbach, Clermont, Mysterious Warnings, Necromancer of the Black Forest, Midnight Bell, Orphan of the Rhine, and Horrid Mysteries. Those will last us some time. '
'...but are they all horrid? Are you sure they are all horrid?'
'Yes, quite sure; for a particular friend of mine, a Miss Andrews, a sweet girl, one of the sweetest creatures in the world, has read every one of them. ~ Jane Austen,
1021:Boswell and Thompson write, “Every night the rooms on the two upper floors of the Castle were filled to overflowing. Holmes reluctantly accommodated a few men as paying guests, but catered primarily to women—preferably young and pretty ones of apparent means, whose homes were distant from Chicago and who had no one close to them who might make inquiry if they did not soon return. Many never went home. Many, indeed, never emerged from the castle, having once entered it ~ Erik Larson,
1022:Five damn days, that battle took," said Truckle, "'cos the Duchess was doing a tapestry to commemorate it, right? We had to keep doing the fights over and over again, and there was the devil to pay when she was changing needles. There's no place for the media on the field of battle, I've always said."
"Aye, and I mind you makin' a rude sign to the ladies!" Hamish cackled. "I saw that ol' tapestry in the castle of Rosante years later and I could tell it wuz you! ~ Terry Pratchett,
1023:I think my moment of revelation came when I saw this young man come on court in the most flamboyant clothes. He had a sweet smile and questionably blonde hair and a generally chirpy glamour that in fact concealed huge skill. When he was interviewed he confessed to hating to get angry and it was also said that he slithered out of winning when it came to the big matches. And I thought, My God! This Andre Agassi is the image of Howl in my book HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE! ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
1024:This would have been the perfect time to continue with his ravishment scheme. He could lay siege to her virginal clothing. Ruthlessly dismantle her inhibitions. Steal an hour or two of fleeting pleasure before proving beyond a shadow of doubt: Romance is an exercise in willful delusion and nothing—nothing—ends happily. At least, not in this castle, and not with a man like him.
There was only one wrinkle in that scheme.
He liked her too much to go through with it. ~ Tessa Dare,
1025:What do you know of sacrifice? Need I tell you of York's dead . . . of Sandal Castle? My brother did survive the battle, his first. He was seventeen and he entreated them to spare his life. They cut his throat. Their heads were then impaled on York's Micklegate Bar to please the House of Lancaster, to please a harlot and a madman. She had my father's head crowned with straw and she left a spike between the two. . . . That one, she said, was for York's other son. ~ Sharon Kay Penman,
1026:I shall expect you and the Slytherins in the Great Hall in twenty minutes, also,” said Professor McGonagall. “If you wish to leave with your students, we shall not stop you. But if any of you attempt to sabotage our resistance or take up arms against us within this castle, then, Horace, we duel to kill.” “Minerva!” he said, aghast. “The time has come for Slytherin House to decide upon its loyalties,” interrupted Professor McGonagall. “Go and wake your students, Horace. ~ J K Rowling,
1027:Observe that noses were made to wear spectacles; and so we have spectacles. Legs were visibly instituted to be breeched, and we have breeches. Stones were formed to be quarried and to build castles; and My Lord has a very noble castle; the greatest Baron in the province should have the best house; and as pigs were made to be eaten, we eat pork all year round; consequently, those who have asserted all is well talk nonsense; they ought to have said that all is for the best. ~ Voltaire,
1028:If you remove the English Army tomorrow and hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle., unless you set about the organization of the Socialist Republic your efforts will be in vain. England will still rule you. She would rule you through her capitalists, through her landlords, through her financiers, through the whole array of commercial and individualist institutions she has planted in this country and watered with the tears of our mothers and the blood of our martyrs ~ James Connolly,
1029:There you are!” he shouted at them. “Father has half the castle turned out looking for you.” “Us?” Hadrian asked. “Yes.” Fanen nodded. “He wants to see the two thieves in his chambers right away.” “You didn’t steal the silver or anything, did you, Royce?” Hadrian asked. “I would bet it has more to do with your flirting with Lenare this afternoon and threatening Mauvin just to show off,” Royce retorted. “That was your fault,” Hadrian said, jabbing his finger at him. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1030:Lewis read Udolpho within days of it appearing, and there was much in the novel he would have found ‘interesting’: a persecuted and captive heroine, an implacable villain, mysterious infatuation and abduction, strange music, convents and Catholicism, robber gangs, hallucinatory occurrences and ghostly tales, a dark and claustrophobic castle, hidden corpses and the brooding omnipresence of death and murder, veiled figures, and secret passages and suffocating darkness. But ~ Matthew Lewis,
1031:Think about medieval times, Danny, like when this castle was built. People were constantly seeing ghosts, having visions—they thought Christ was sitting with them at the dinner table, they thought angels and devils were flying around. We don't see those things anymore. Why? Was all that stuff happening before and then it stopped? Unlikely. Was everyone nuts in medieval times? Doubtful. But their imaginations were more active. Their inner lives were rich and weird. ~ Jennifer Egan,
1032:Binky trotted down over nothingness and touched down on the flagstones of the castle’s topmost tower. Death dismounted and told Mort to sort out the nosebag. ‘Won’t people notice there’s a horse up here?’ he said, as they strolled to a stairwell. Death shook his head. WOULD YOU BELIEVE THERE COULD BE A HORSE AT THE TOP OF THIS TOWER? he said. ‘No. You couldn’t get one up these stairs,’ said Mort. WELL, THEN? ‘Oh. I see. People don’t want to see what can’t possibly exist. ~ Terry Pratchett,
1033:The allure, huh?”
“I’ve learned a few things about castle architecture over the years.” Liv wraps one arm around my waist. “The allure is a passage behind the parapet of a castle wall. Great for defense when the enemy is approaching. You know you’re safe on the allure.” She tucks her head beneath my chin, twining her hand with mine. “Like we’re safe with each other.”
“No doubt about it, beauty.” I press my face against her sweet-smelling hair. “You’ll always be my allure. ~ Nina Lane,
1034:Yesterday I heard some of the castle servants talking about a funeral for one of the stable lads. He went skating last week on the pond in the village, but the ice was not thick enough and he drowned. I like to skate on the ice,too, Papa, have my own pair of bone skates. I could drown crossing the Channel as Uncle Robert fears... or I could drown back in Angers, if I was unlucky like that stable lad." Geoffrey's mouth twitched. "God help me," he said, "I've sired a lawyer! ~ Sharon Kay Penman,
1035:When I go out by the gateway, taking the road I drove along that first time I picked up Lotte for the ball, how very different it all is! It is all over, all of it! There is not a hint of the world that once was, not one bulse-beat of those past emotions. I feel like a ghost returning to the burnt-out ruins of the castle he built in his prime as a prince, which he adorned with magnificent splendours and then, on his deathbed, but full of hope, left to his beloved son ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,
1036:Anyway, Arianna and I left the castle very late one evening. I knew the knight on guard at the drawbridge so I hit hit him over the head because I didn't want to hurt him.
Garion blinked.
"I knew he'd be honor-bound to try to stop us," Lelldorin explained. "I didn't want to have to kill him, so I hit him over the head."
"I suppose that makes sense," Garion said dubiously.
"Arianna's almost positive he won't die."
"DIE?"
"I hit him just a little too hard, I think. ~ David Eddings,
1037: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,
1038:Il signore?” I ask. “Luca? Dov’è?
“Where’s Luca?” I’m asking. I’m so close. I’m trembling as she says:
Non lo so, signorina. Mi dispiace.
She doesn’t know: oh well. I don’t care if I have to comb the entire castle for him.
Prova su di sopra,” she adds, jabbing the ceiling with her duster; he’s somewhere upstairs.
Oh well, that narrows it down. Only about twenty thousand square feet to search, rather than thirty thousand. ~ Lauren Henderson,
1039:In their castle beyond night
Gather the Gods in Darkness,
With darkness to pattern man's fate.

The colors of darkness are no monotonous hue -
For the blackness of Evil knows various shades,
Full many as Evil has names.

Vengeance and Madness, inseparable twins,
Born together and worshipped as one;
Nor can the Gods tell one from his brother.

In their castle beyond night
Gather the Gods in Darkness
And darkness weaves with many shades. ~ Karl Edward Wagner,
1040:I'd have a stable full of Arabian steeds, rooms piled with books, and I'd write out of a magic inkstand, so that my works should be as famous as Laurie's music. I want to do something splendid before I go into my castle,-something heroic, or wonderful,-that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it, and mean to astonish you all, some day. I think I shall write books, and get rich and famous; that would suit me, so that is my favorite dream. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
1041:They were climbing now, climbing the hill of hardened mud upon which the castle stood, and once they had left the lee of the dunes the flies grew less; the heat, on the other hand, was greater still. 'You are going a very disagreeable colour,' said Stephen. 'Should not you throw off that thick coat, and loosen your neckcloth? Heavy, corpulent subjects are liable to be carried off in a twinkling, if not by a frank, straightforward apoplexy, then at least by a
cerebral congestion. ~ Patrick O Brian,
1042:I pulled into the parking lot, went inside, turned down a free sample of nasty-looking Bourbon chicken from a vendor in the food court, and proceeded to Gamer's Castle. "Hi," said the gawky teenager behind the counter. I nodded and briefly looked through the racks of role-playing game merchandise. There was Dungeons and Dragons stuff out the wazoo, and even kits for hosting your own murder mystery parties, should I ever grow weary of having my murder mystery needs satisfied by real life. ~ Jeff Strand,
1043:IF anybody had been there to observe the gentle-looking elderly
lady who stood meditatively on the loggia outside her bungalow,
they would have thought she had nothing more on her mind than
deliberation on how to arrange her time that day. An expedition, perhaps, to Castle Cliff; a visit to Jamestown; a nice drive and
lunch at Pelican Point or just a quiet morning on the beach.
But the gentle old lady was deliberating quite other matters. She
was in a militant mood. ~ Agatha Christie,
1044:If, in looking at the lives of princes, courtiers, men of rank and fashion, we must perforce depict them as idle, profligate, and criminal, we must make allowances for the rich men's failings, and recollect that we, too, were very likely indolent and voluptuous, had we no motive for work, a mortal's natural taste for pleasure, and the daily temptation of a large income. What could a great peer, with a great castle and park, and a great fortune, do but be splendid and idle? ~ William Makepeace Thackeray,
1045:Would it hurt him, just once, to do what she wanted and shut up about it?
"If I wasn't sure," she snapped, "I wouldn't have said.... ow shitshitshitshitshit!"
She dropped the wand again to clutch the top of her head, which she'd just slammed against the underside of the sink. It hurt, enough to bring tears to her eyes, and she dropped back to sit on the floor and cradle her head, completely defeated. "Ow. And don't you dare open that door."
Naturally, he opened the door. ~ Kendra Leigh Castle,
1046:Conscience is the most sacred of all property; other property depending in part on positive law, the exercise of that being a natural and unalienable right. To guard a man's house as his castle, to pay public and enforce private debts with the most exact faith, can give no title to invade a man's conscience, which is more sacred than his castle, or to withhold from it that debt of protection for which the public faith is pledged by the very nature and original conditions of the social pact. ~ James Madison,
1047:I brought a picture with me that I had at home, of a girl in a swing with a castle and pretty blue bubbles in the background, to hang in my room, but that nurse here said the girl was naked from the waist up and not appropriate. You know, I've had that picture for fifty years and I never knew she was naked. If you ask me, I don't think the old men they've got here can see well enough to notice that she's bare-breasted. But, this is a Methodist home, so she's in the closet with my gallstones. ~ Fannie Flagg,
1048:LADY CROOM: You have been reading too many novels by Mrs Radcliffe, that is my opinion. This is a garden for The Castle of Otranto or The Mysteries of Udolpho --

CHATER: The Castle of Otranto, my lady, is by Horace Walpole.

NOAKES: (Thrilled) Mr Walpole the gardener?!

LADY CROOM: Mr Chater, you are a welcome guest at Sidley Park but while you are one, The Castle of Otranto was written by whomsoever I say it was, otherwise what is the point of being a guest or having one? ~ Tom Stoppard,
1049:You know, sometimes my bars feel like imaginary places I created in my mind. Castles in the air. I plant some flowers here, construct a fountain there, crafting everything with great care. People stop by, have drinks, listen to music, talk, and go home. People are willing to spend a lot of money to come all this way to have some drinks - and do you know why? Because everyone’s seeking the same thing: an imaginary place, their own castle in the air, and their very own special corner of it. ~ Haruki Murakami,
1050:Las Vegas has become a child's picture-book dream of a city-here a storybook castle, there a sphinx-flanked black pyramid beaming white light into the darkness as a landing beam for UFOs, and everywhere neon oracles and twisting screens predict happiness and good fortune, announce singers and comedians and magicians in residence or on their way, and the lights always flash and beckon and call. Once every hour a volcano erupts in light and flame. Once every hour a pirate ship sinks a man o'war. ~ Neil Gaiman,
1051:MAGIC ISN'T DEAD

All the seers predicted who I am but I don’t care
They said she is a waiting room for bones
Still I am after some non-predictable end
Where I go beyond skin and hair
I am a fuck demon in a fuck castle
Also electricity and no dust
And I am coming for you spirit
I am avenging everything
The gravestone they tried to make you in the rain
I will make the rain stop
Or I will make it rain animal bodies
And you will see your face in the lions ~ Melissa Broder,
1052:The building is rather like a medieval Castle and was established in the Sixth Century and soon afterwards, as the Moslem armies advanced Westwards from the Arabian Peninsula, somebody had the prescience to build a small Mosque in its courtyard to guard against it being burned or demolished. At the time of the Crusades it was the turn of the Monastery to protect the Mosque, and so it has been down the ages, each House of God extending its shelter to the other as opposing armies came and went. ~ Ahdaf Soueif,
1053:A hush of expectancy descended in the chamber as all waited to hear the request. What treasure could he want? Laren inventoried in her mind all the precious trappings of the castle she could think of -jewels, weapons, art-and she saw that the others must be doing the same. What did the Sacoridians possess that would be good enough for the Eletian prince?
"My brother," Graelalea said, "requires many pounds of dark chocolate fudge and Dragon Droppings. We must visit the Master of Chocolate. ~ Kristen Britain,
1054:For better or worse,” Castle writes, “the ferocious, liberating notion embedded in the early novel is that parents are there to be fooled and defied … that even the most venerated traditions exist to be broken with; that creative power is rightly vested in the individual rather than groups, in the young rather than the old; that thought is free. The assertion of individual rights ineluctably begins, symbolically and every other way, with the primal rebellion of the child against parent. ~ Julie Lythcott Haims,
1055:From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again. ~ Cornelia Funke,
1056:It looked like someone had been planting stars. The castle was in shreds, flagstone floors tiny islands in a sea of stones and wild grass, but clusters of lights were nestled on the castle floor and the earth of the cliffs alike, lanterns strung from the crumbling battlements.

There were so many lights they cast a shimmering haze over everything, bathing the ruins in a pale glow. Mae walked, hardly aware that she was walking, through Tintagel Castle over stones washed in brightness ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,
1057:The castle always looks so mysterious," she said, awed. "Is it wonderful, living there?"

"It isn’t so mysterious when you're there. I'd rather look at it from the hills. It's just—full of people, at least the servants' parts are, crowded and ordinary. Things should be mysterious, but there's nothing mysterious in the palace."

"Should things be mysterious?"

"There's mystery in the hills and in the wind on the grass. And in the stories you like. Isn't life mysterious? ~ Shirley Rousseau Murphy,
1058:There you are!” he shouted at them. “Father has half the castle turned
out looking for you.”
“Us?” Hadrian asked.
“Yes.” Fanen nodded. “He wants to see the two thieves in his chambers
right away.”
“You didn’t steal the silver or anything, did you, Royce?” Hadrian
asked.
“I would bet it has more to do with your flirting with Lenare this afternoon
and threatening Mauvin just to show off,” Royce retorted.
“That was your fault,” Hadrian said, jabbing his finger at him. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1059:We might be accustomed to thinking of our faith as a castle—where we go to be safe and protected. That’s a good place to be, and we all need that experience now and then. But what if God isn’t a helicopter parent? What if feeling safe and secure aren’t always signs of God’s presence but a pattern of fear that keeps God at a distance? And what if God wants to close that gap, for our sake, and doubt helps get us there? Doubt isn’t a sign of spiritual weakness but the first steps toward a deeper faith. ~ Peter Enns,
1060:There are plenty of girls in that castle," the Frenchman said, knowing his thoughts. "Sebastiao will not be wanting for choices if you take an interest in one of them." No. He'd already caused trouble coming between one of his brothers and a woman. He would not do so again. "I have no interest in her," he mumbled. "You are still under the seal of the confessional, Vitor." He snapped his head around. "How do you do that?" "Recognize lies upon a man's tongue? It is my gift."

-Denis & Vitor ~ Katharine Ashe,
1061:When K. looked at the castle, often it seemed to him as if he were observing someone who sat quietly there in front of him gazing, not lost in thought and so oblivious of everything, but free and untroubled, as if he were alone with nobody to observe him, and yet must notice that he was observed, and all the same remained with his calm not even slightly disturbed; and really - one did not know whether it was cause or effect - the gaze of the observer could not remain concentrated there, but slid away. ~ Franz Kafka,
1062:Rainer Maria Rilke greeted and wrestled with the angels of his Duino Elegies in the solitude of a castle surrounded by white cliffs tall trees and the sea. I greeted most of mine in the solitude of a house that still vibrated with the throbs of a singular life that had helped shape many lives and with the ache of attempts to render useful service to that life. The River of Winged Dreams was therefore constructed as a link between dimensions of past and future emotions and intellect and matter and spirit. ~ Aberjhani,
1063:They banged doors, they shouted Trick or Treat and their brown paper bags began to fill with incredible sweets. They galloped with their teeth glued shut with pink gum. They ran with red wax lips bedazzling their faces. But all the people who met them at doors looked like candy factory duplicates of their own mothers and fathers. It was like never leaving home. Too much kindness flashed from every window and every portal. What they wanted was to hear dragons belch in basements and banged castle doors. ~ Ray Bradbury,
1064:Stop it. He’s just human. Just a man. But that was the thing. Elder wasn’t just a man. He was more than human. He’d transcended into fantasy. He was the beast locked in a castle. He was the hero battling inner demons. He was more than just mortal because he’d already done so much more than any other roguish storybook prince would do. He’d rescued me. He’d awakened me. He’d kissed me awake like Sleeping Beauty and removed the poisoned apple from my soul like Snow White. He was my happily ever after. I ~ Pepper Winters,
1065:There was also an amazing scent of fresh-baked... something.
Baking wasn't a thing under the sea. When Ariel lived at the castle with Eric she had tried breads, cakes, pies, rolls, and sweets, and found them all mystifying (though delicious). They were like nothing she had ever eaten before and sometimes came to her plate still warm, which was also an odd way to eat food. Eric had bought her twelve different kinds of pie at a fancy shop in town and laughed as she had a bite of each, savoring. ~ Liz Braswell,
1066:As things STAND now, I trust London more than I trust you.

Okay, so it fell a little short of a ringing endorsement, Emmett thought as he followed Lydia into the offices of the Transverse Wave Youth Shelter. She could have been a touch more eloquent and maybe a shade more dramatic.
I would trust London with my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor, would have done nicely. Or maybe, I would trust London to the ends of the universe.
But he would take what he could get. ~ Jayne Castle,
1067:The gods made the earth for all men t' share. Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs. "My trees," they said, "you can't eat them apples. My stream, you can't fish here. My wood, you're not t' hunt. My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I'll chop 'em off, but maybe if you kneel t' me I'll let you have a sniff." You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t' be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t' kneel. ~ George R R Martin,
1068:We actually build castles all the time, out of our jobs and our families and the things we’ve purchased. Sometimes we even make them out of each other. Some of these castles are impressive too. Lots of people come to admire what we’ve built over the course of our lives and tell us what great castles we have. But Jesus told His friends we weren’t supposed to spend our lives building castles. He said He wanted us to build a kingdom, and there’s a big difference between building a castle and building a kingdom. ~ Bob Goff,
1069:I’m just glad you planned to have your honeymoon away from the castle,” he replied as he smirked knowingly. “Gods know when you two go at it, the entire power grid and magical field around the castle is high voltage.”
“You can feel it?” I gasped.
“What did you expect, Flower? You’re a Goddess of Faery; your mother is a fertility Goddess. When you two fuck, even the flowers feel it. Last night, they bloomed. You know, the ones that only open once a year were awakened by the power you two gave off. ~ Amelia Hutchins,
1070:[V]ariety of climate should always go with stability of abode.... an Englishman’s house is not only his castle; it is his fairy castle. Clouds and colours of every varied dawn and eve are perpetually touching and turning it from clay to gold, or from gold to ivory. There is a line of woodland beyond a corner of my garden which is literally different on every one of the three hundred and sixty-five days. Sometimes it seems as near as a hedge, and sometimes as far as a faint and fiery evening cloud. ~ Gilbert K Chesterton,
1071:And I thought, I am in love. For the first time I am in love. And loved. Someone loves me. And I love them. And within me things clicked and whirled like the insides of some gigantic clock, cog against wheel, spring against spiral, tick against tock, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same again. I had shown someone what I really was. I had shown someone my truth, my secret. Out there, beyond the walls of the Castle, there was a boy who had seen inside my chrysalis. And I would never be safe again. ~ Philip Ridley,
1072:Martha spoke again. “In case you’ve forgotten, here are the rules, Beast, laid out by all the sisters: You must love her and that love must be returned with true love’s kiss, before your twenty first birthday. She may use the mirror as you do, to see into the world beyond your kingdom, but she must never know the details of the curse or how it’s to be broken. You will notice she sees the castle and its enchantments differently than yourself. The most terrifying aspects of the curse are reserved for you. ~ Serena Valentino,
1073:You saw it?” “Yes. Honest, I did. It didn’t seem like it could be real, but I got up and ran after it, trying to keep it in sight, and it was real, a six-sided castle of white stone up above the clouds.” “You saw it.” His hands were trembling worse than ever. I nodded. “Up among the clouds and moving with them, driven by the same wind. It was white like they were, but the edges were hard and there were colored flags on the towers.” The memory took me by the throat. “It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. ~ Gene Wolfe,
1074:I have a bra on," I said helpfully.
"I noticed. Might I remove that, too?"
"Gunner," I said sternly, or as sternly as a person could while she stood in a man's castle, her hands full of his ass. "You've got your hands on my boobs, and your tongue down my cleavage. At this point if I'm not yelling for the police, you can probably take it for granted that you have my consent to remove my bra."
"I like to make sure," he said, pulling his head out of my breasts for a moment. "Some women have limits. ~ Katie MacAlister,
1075:Well, when we were little, Gage’s daddy built a tree house for the three of us in his backyard. We used to have a secret club. And we’d play over there, and hide from people, and pretend we were knights in a castle.”
“Gage and I were knights,” Roo corrected her. “You always had to be rescued.”
“Well, I liked the way Gage threw me over his shoulder and carried me down from the tower.”
“Gage did that?” Clasping his hands over his heart, Parker sighed. “My hero.”
Gage ignored him. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,
1076:What about Sebastian?” Myst said. “Tell us anything.”
“Anything? Well, what do I know?” Nix frowned. “What do I know? Oh! I know what I know!”
Nikolai paced impatiently, gesturing with his free hand for her to continue.
She shrugged. “Right now, your brother Sebastian is bellowing at someone outside a castle, demanding that they return to him, wishing it with everything that he is.” She smiled, as if pleased with herself for seeing so much, then gave a quick clap. “Oh! And his skin just caught fire! ~ Kresley Cole,
1077:Luxembourg was and still is today a crossroads, the place where Germany meets the rest of Europe. The country lost part of its territory to Belgium in the 1800s, and during World Wars I and II the German military overran it. Very few people have visited Luxembourg - when I went there and looked at it, I said, my God, it's built on a rock. And within the rock they had a castle, and within the city there's a network of tunnels so the residents could move around and defend themselves. That was of great interest to me. ~ I M Pei,
1078:Sage!" he called. "You have got to see this."
Eddie and I reached the next green and stared in astonishment. Then I burst out laughing.
We had reached Dracula's Castle. (...)
I couldn't stop laughing. Adrian and Eddie looked at me as though they'd never seen me before.
"I don't think I've ever heard her laugh," Eddie told him.
"Certainly not the reaction I was expecting," mused Adrian. "I'd been counting on abject terror, judging from past Alchemist behaviour. I didn't think you liked vampires. ~ Richelle Mead,
1079:Dairy Queen’s Frozen Hot Chocolate: A hot chocolate blended with ice to give it a frosty crunch. 191 McDonald’s Big Mac Poutine: McDonald’s classic golden fries topped with their famous Big Mac sauce. 192 Wendy’s Grand Slam: Also known as the Meat Cube, this burger has a total of four patties. 193 White Castle’s Seasoned Fries: You can get your fries with additional seasoning free of charge. 194 Starbucks Nutella Misto: Order a Caffè Misto with a shot of chocolate and hazelnut topped with caramel drizzle. 195 ~ Keith Bradford,
1080:He’d found her, one rainy night, in an arcade. Under bright ghosts burning through a blue haze of cigarette smoke, holograms of Wizard’s Castle, Tank War Europa, the New York skyline . . . And now he remembered her that way, her face bathed in restless laser light, features reduced to a code: her cheekbones flaring scarlet as Wizard’s Castle burned, forehead drenched with azure when Munich fell to the Tank War, mouth touched with hot gold as a gliding cursor struck sparks from the wall of a skyscraper canyon. ~ William Gibson,
1081:Someone called me into a castle. He was in an upstairs window. It was impressive and beautiful. I get inside. I can’t find him. Then there are hands reaching out to me. I move closer, but then I see the hands are on arms coming out of the walls. They reach around my neck and are trying to pull me into the wall. I am terrified and try to fight. I don’t want to disappear.8 With this dream, Angela had been able to visualize the nameless terror that haunted her, making intimate relationships impossible. While ~ Stephen A Mitchell,
1082:Right,” I said once more, because it sounded firm, and because Armand’s brittle desolation was beginning to eat at me. None of this, after all, was his fault. “We get him downstairs. We sneak him out of the castle, back to your motorcar. You take Jesse to a doctor and take your father home. Lock him in a room, pour some wine down his throat. Laudanum. Whatever you have to do to keep him out while I get rid of the guns. None of this ever happened.” I looked at Jesse. “Are there hidden tunnels to use? So no one sees? ~ Shana Abe,
1083:Finally the gorilla queen had had enough. She wrote a letter to the editor of Baboons' Home Journal and asked for advice. The editor printed her letter (but in order to protect her privacy, changed her name from 'Gorilla Queen' to 'Worried in the Royal Castle'). The editor suggested hiring a local hunter to take the little troublemaker out into the woods, kill him, and cut his heart out and bring it back. 'Check page 44 of last month's issue for delicious recipes, at just pennies a serving!' she concluded. ~ Gregory Maguire,
1084:I want the tiny apartment and clipping coupons and living on Ramen until payday. I want to balance the checkbook together and talk about our weekly budget, and pick up a sweater in the store just to hang it back on the rack because holding your hand is way better than carrying a bag full of clothes. I want to feel giddy to be with you at the movie theater once every two months because it's become something special instead of expected. I want to build our castle one block at a time ... just you and me. No easy outs. ~ Jamie McGuire,
1085:The magnates of Poland used this tactic brilliantly, preaching loudly: “The most insignificant member of the gentry with one horse and sword is the equal of the most powerful magnate in his castle,” while at the same time depriving landless gentry of almost all rights and treating them with contempt. The peasant was kept happy by being assured that it was the magnate who defended Christianity. The townsman, who was allowed no rights whatever, was reminded: “It is the magnate who protects your freedom and your shop. ~ James A Michener,
1086:things went quickly awry. Thermonuclear bombs were still not well understood and the weapon, code-named CASTLE BRAVO, turned out to be three times more powerful than expected, a total of some 15 megatons. A four-mile-wide fireball engulfed everything around ground zero in under a second. Birds spontaneously combusted in the sky, and small animals as far away as 345 miles were found to have suffered retinal burns from the nuclear flash. Poisonous radioactivity ultimately covered an area nearly the size of New Jersey, ~ Garrett M Graff,
1087:Tom smiled at the Fleming — a bright, friendly smile — and bobbed his head courteously. That confused the jolt-head. Then, by way of making conversation while his confederates gained their positions, he said, "I suppose someone must have told you — your mother, perhaps, or your father, though I doubt you ever knew him — that you're an idle-headed canker. A rank pustule? No? Not even an irksome, crook-pated, pathetical nit?"
The Fleming, his face as red as hot steel, roared and swung a fist like a blacksmith's hammer. ~ Anna Castle,
1088:I think of everything we went through together, me and Lief: His coming to the castle. Our being together. His betrayal. HIs alliance with Aurek. And now I'll never know the truth of him. Perhaps, on the King's Road, he was trying to get me away, not hurt me. Perhaps the reason he hit me at the commune was to stop me from fighting and getting hurt. He gave me the Opus Mortem; he gave me back my note to him. He gave up his life, knowingly, to help us. Yet no one will ever know the whole truth, and he died a villain. ~ Melinda Salisbury,
1089:Know all things to be like this: A mirage, a cloud castle, A dream, an apparition, Without essence, but with qualities that can be seen. Know all things to be like this: As the moon in a bright sky In some clear lake reflected, Though to that lake the moon has never moved. Know all things to be like this: As an echo that derives From music, sounds, and weeping, Yet in that echo is no melody. Know all things to be like this: As a magician makes illusions Of horses, oxen, carts and other things, Nothing is as it appears. ~ Gautama Buddha,
1090:Nutt was technically an expert on love poetry throughout the ages and had discussed it at length with Miss Healstether, the castle librarian. He had also tried to discuss it with Ladyship, but she had laughed and said it was frivolity, although quite helpful as a tutorial on the use of vocabulary, scansion, rhythm and affect as a means to an end, to wit getting a young lady to take all her clothes off. At that particular point, Nutt had not really understood what she meant. It sounded like some sort of conjuring trick. ~ Terry Pratchett,
1091:All events are linked together in the best of possible worlds; after all, if you had not been driven from a fine castle by being kicked in the backside for love of Miss Cunegonde, if you hadn't been sent before the Inquisition, if you hadn't traveled across America on foot, if you hadn't given a good sword thrust to the baron, if you hadn't lost all your sheep from the good land of Eldorado, you wouldn't be sitting here eating candied citron and pistachios. - That is very well put, said Candide, but we must cultivate our garden. ~ Voltaire,
1092:There isn't a story to tell, because a relationship is a story you construct together and take up residence in, a story as sheltering as a house. You invent this story of how your destinies were made to entwine like porch vines, you adjust to a big view in this direction and no view in that, the doorway that you have to duck through and the window that is jammed, how who you think you are becomes a factor of who you think he is and who he thinks you are, a castle in the clouds made out of the moist air exhaled by dreamers. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
1093:Janner was sore and tired, but his mind whirled with questions long after Nia blew out the candle and the others fell asleep. He wanted to know why Podo, who had seemed so happy during the weeks at Peet’s castle, was now so irritable and distant. He wanted to know what about the Dark Sea gave the old pirate pause. He wanted to know what had happened to Peet the Sock Man. He wanted to know why his father had left him this giant, timeworn book written in a language nobody remembered. He wanted to know who the Stranders were. ~ Andrew Peterson,
1094:She didn't know 'this meadow', exactly. But she was familiar with the concept. The types of plants. The 'raven,' which she knew was too big to be a 'crow'. The trees: the way the trees circled meant there was probably a bog or a stream in the middle, where the land dipped. She 'knew' that. She knew that beyond these leafy trees would be gnarled, thicker trees with dark green leaves. And beyond them, pines. And under their heavy boughs, there lay a friendly darkness so complete it put the vines over the castle bailey to shame. ~ Liz Braswell,
1095:Snow crunched under the feet of three cloaked figures – a queen, her lady, and a gravedigger – as they hurried along a moonlit path in Windsor Castle's lower ward. The gravedigger pushed a cart that held a slab of marble, his pick and shovel, and some straw. When the trio reached the steps of St. George's Chapel, Queen Mary stopped. She turned her head, pushing aside the fur of her hood, and a gust of wind needled her with crystallized snow. She looked back at her attendants. Was she wrong to trust them with this night's work? ~ Barbara Kyle,
1096:The original castle back in Edinburgh was the seat of Scottish nationalism. It symbolized everything to the diehard believers. Despite all the changes and defeats they endured, the castle stood solid at the center of their capital. They waited for generations for the Scottish nation to be properly reborn after their Bonnie Prince was lost. There were times when the cause seemed impossible, or even cursed; they regained their independence from the English only to lose it again right away with the formation of Federal Europe. ~ Peter F Hamilton,
1097:And if that hadn't been enough, the castle cat, obviously female and obviously in heat, had sashayed in, tail straight up and perkily curved at the tip, and wound her furry little self sinuously around Adam's ankles, purring herself into a state of drooling, slanty-eyed bliss. Mr. Black, my ass, she'd wanted to snap (and she liked cats, really she did; she'd certainly never wanted to kick one before, but please— even cats?), he's a fairy and I found him, so that makes him my fairy. Back off.

-Gabby's thought on Adam ~ Karen Marie Moning,
1098:Leave him alone! Alone, I say!” said Professor McGonagall’s voice through the darkness. “On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such —” Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender all screamed. No fewer than four Stunners had shot from the figures around the cabin toward Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her. For a moment she looked luminous, illuminated by an eerie red glow, then was lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more. ~ J K Rowling,
1099:That’s close,” Francis said. “I’m using a small fish to catch a larger one and fear mine will slip the hook and join the school, swimming happily away and forgetting all about his assignment.”
“Wait a minute.” Trumpet swung his legs around to sit upright at the edge of the bed, spilling more ale in the process. “Are you suggesting Tom might become one of the people he was sent to investigate? That he might honestly become one of those narrow-minded Puritans?”
“Yes,” Francis said. “I fear that is precisely what is happening. ~ Anna Castle,
1100:Anything else you want to tell me?” I asked Valek as we stopped a few feet short of the castle’s south entrance. “Did Ari and Janco set me up for Nix’s attack? Do you have another test of loyalty for me up your sleeve? Maybe the next time, I’ll actually fail. A prospect that seems appealing!” I pushed away Valek’s supporting arm. “When you warned me that you would test me from time to time, I thought you meant spiking my food. But it seems there is more than one way to poison a person’s heart, and it doesn’t even require a meal. ~ Maria V Snyder,
1101:He tilted back in the decaying lawn chair, almost went over on his back, and used up some more of his screwdriver. The screwdriver was in a glass he had gotten free from a McDonald's restaurant. There was some sort of purple animal on the glass. Something called a Grimace. Gary ate a lot of his meals at the Castle Rock McDonald's, where you could still get a cheap hamburger. Hamburgers were good. But as for the Grimace... and Mayor McCheese... and Monsieur Ronald Fucking McDonald... Gary Pervier didn't give a shit for any of them. ~ Stephen King,
1102:Your men are watching the border, Torquil is now within the castle walls, and Angus is with Fagan." She raised her brow, "Everything is once again under control. I think we passed the time quite nicely. Wouldn't you say, Laird Sutherland?"
Ruairi chuckled as he fastened his kilt. "I would think so. I have to admit, I've ne'er had so much fun in my study before."
"I would certainly hope not." She ran her hand over the top of his desk. "I dare say, I don't think you'll ever be able to think of your desk the same way again. ~ Victoria Roberts,
1103:I entered, closed the door behind me at once, turned the key I found in the lock within, and stood with the candle held aloft, surveying the scene of my vigil, the great red room of Lorraine Castle, in which the young duke had died. Or, rather, in which he had begun his dying, for he had opened the door and fallen headlong down the steps I had just ascended. That had been the end of his vigil, of his gallant attempt to conquer the ghostly tradition of the place, and never, I thought, had apoplexy better served the ends of superstition. ~ E F Benson,
1104:I thought that ground fire couldn’t reach the zeppelins,” I said. “I thought that guns on the ground didn’t have the range.”
“Eleanore. Do you imagine for one particle of one second that he was thinking clearly enough to fathom that?”
“He was thinking clearly enough to fathom all of this,” I retorted, my hand flung out to encompass the roof. Blood stained my palm. “Clearly enough to have men haul all these crates into the castle in broad daylight all week long, so that everyone could see them and wonder what was actually inside! ~ Shana Abe,
1105:Rowling’s decision to check into a luxurious hotel suite near Edinburgh Castle is an example of a curious but effective strategy in the world of deep work: the grand gesture. The concept is simple: By leveraging a radical change to your normal environment, coupled perhaps with a significant investment of effort or money, all dedicated toward supporting a deep work task, you increase the perceived importance of the task. This boost in importance reduces your mind’s instinct to procrastinate and delivers an injection of motivation and energy. ~ Cal Newport,
1106:But neither could compare with the gargantuan natural edifice that was the mountain upon which Nachtstürm Castle rose. It was a mountain made of the darkness between two lightning bolts. It was made less of earth than Stygian frost. Whole towns fell away as they ascended, as though the ranks of black and frowning conifers waged war against the humans below. Even the path – rather narrow and rarely straight – seemed less made by centuries of pilgrim feet and more by the trace of some careless demon’s claw.

It was, in fact, perfect. ~ Emily C A Snyder,
1107:Cruelty is seldom forgotten. You feel it as a child. Somebody takes away your toy or thoughtlessly kicks over your sand castle. A beautiful boy walks into your life, sees something he doesn’t like or doesn’t understand, and painstakingly endeavours to make you feel how much he hates you, to be constantly aware of the flaws that provoke that hatred. And then you grow older and wiser, but you don’t forget the cruelty. You can’t forget it, because there is nothing stronger, nothing more palpable in the human brain than the memory of mistreatment. ~ L H Cosway,
1108:True, I used to see a lot of hope. I saw men tear down the veils behind which the truth had been hidden. But then the same men, when they have power in their hands at last, began to find the veils useful. They made many more. Life has not changed. Only some people have been growing, becoming different, that is all. After a youth spent fighting the white man, why should not the president discover as he grows older that his real desire has been to be like the white governor himself, to live above all the blackness in the big old slave castle? ~ Ayi Kwei Armah,
1109:Daydreaming had spun in her head a book-length "soon-to-be" affair with Percy. He would call her when she returned home, ask her out, pick her up in a Porsche, take her to an expensive restaurant and order lobster, then to the theater, kissing her passionately in his leather upholstered seats afterwards, promising that he would see her the following day, and the day after that. She was still working on the castle-in-the-sky and the happily-ever-after chapters. It was incredible the material an innocent, half-hour conversation could generate. ~ Christopher Pike,
1110:For a moment he came near to sharing their incredible belief—it would do no harm to mutter a prayer of thanks to the God of his childhood, the God of the Common and the castle, that no ill had yet come to Sarah's child. Then a sonic boom scattered the words of the hymn and shook the old glass of the west window and rattled the crusader's helmet which hung on a pillar, and he was reminded again of the grown-up world. He went quickly out and bought the Sunday papers. The Sunday Express had a headline on the front page—"Child's Body Found in Wood. ~ Graham Greene,
1111:Your machinery is beautiful. Your society people have apologized to me for the envious ridicule with which your newspapers have referred to me. Your newspapers are comic but never amusing. Your Water Tower is a castellated monstrosity with pepperboxes stuck all over it. I am amazed that any people could so abuse Gothic art and make a structure not like a water tower but like a tower of a medieval castle. It should be torn down. It is a shame to spend so much money on buildings with such an unsatisfactory result. Your city looks positively dreary. ~ Oscar Wilde,
1112:Oskar nodded. “Aye. If he’s survived this long, it’s either because of his wits or because Gnag the Nameless wants him alive, as he does you. Perhaps it’s a little of both. No, I’m certain Peet the Sock Man will show himself again someday. He’s no ordinary man, you know.” “He’s definitely not ordinary,” Janner said. “That’s not what I mean,” Oskar said. “It was said that Artham P. Wingfeather shone with Eremund’s Fire.1 The wicked fled before him, and for all the years he and your father occupied Castle Rysen, peace and joy ran deep as a river. ~ Andrew Peterson,
1113:The absence of portraits of Margaret Beaufort as an attractive young woman to counterbalance the images of her in old age have helped give credit to the sinister reputation she has gained. But the face that stands out from her story is not that of the widow with the hooded eyes, praying amidst the riches of a royal chapel and seen in her portraits, but a young girl, riding in the biting wet of a Welsh winter, to Pembroke Castle where she must deliver her child. Now it was for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren to continue the Tudor story. ~ Leanda de Lisle,
1114:This, the idea of relationships bit, was all conjecture on her part. She herself felt too young to try to figure out her own life, let alone someone else's life near hers, and so she had never even sought out companionship of that type. Jackie thought about dating from time to time in the distant way a person thinks about eventually becoming famous or owning a castle or growing ram's horns. They're all achievable, realistic goals, but by turning objectives into mere fantasies, she never had to go through the trouble of achieving or maintaining them. ~ Joseph Fink,
1115:when the illumination did at last come, we felt repaid. It came unexpectedly, of course—things always do, that have been long looked and longed for. With a perfectly breath-taking suddenness several mast sheaves of varicolored rockets were vomited skyward out of the black throats of the Castle towers, accompanied by a thundering crash of sound, and instantly every detail of the prodigious ruin stood revealed against the mountainside and glowing with an almost intolerable splendor of fire and color. For some little time the whole building was a blinding ~ Mark Twain,
1116:Like a slapstick comedian, Dirk suffered all kinds of iniquities. He battled past Mud Men, skeletons, creepy crawlies, giant bats and an obstinate suit of flying horse armour. If he survived the castle’s traps, he’d ultimately find the shapely Princess Daphne waiting for him, locked away inside a glass bubble in Singe the Dragon’s coin-filled lair. She was a blonde siren with nipples erect enough to hang your coat on - and her design owed more to animator Gary Goldman’s Playboy magazine collection than to the chaste Cinderellas and Snow Whites of Disney. ~ Anonymous,
1117:How the devil was she fooled into firing in the first place? Don’t tell me that wasn’t your fault,’ said Lord Culter, a familiar wariness displacing the warmth of reunion.

‘All right, I won’t,’ said Lymond. ‘Jerott, did you get shot also? No. Then kindly muster the lady in your monkish arms and ride with her to the castle. Yours is the only reputation that will stand it. And don’t say I don’t endow you with princely rewards for sitting on your bloody arse doing precisely nothing.’

Which was the manner of Lymond’s homecoming from Malta. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
1118:I have heard our father tell of it. It was a good idea, but it was against religion, and the Father made that very clear. The loss of the pearl was a punishment visited on those who tried to leave their station. And the Father made it clear that each man and woman is like a soldier sent by God to guard some part of the castle of
the Universe. And some are in the ramparts and some far deep in the darkness of the walls. But each one must remain faithful to his post and must not go running about, else the castle is in danger from the assaults of Hell. ~ John Steinbeck,
1119:Some time later he heard a scratching coming from the door. G shook his head, chalking the noise up to random castle creaks and groans, but then he heard it again. A distinct scratching sound.
He raised the candle, which only had an inch of light left, and walked cautiously to the door, just in time to see two beady little eyes peeking underneath. He barely had time to register the eyes when an entire furry body snaked its way inside his chamber, flat against the ground.
G yelped and stepped back. (He definitely did not scream like a little girl.) ~ Cynthia Hand,
1120:If you aren’t “Papa’s” doctor,” I said, “who is?”
“One of my staff, a Dr. Schlichter von Koenigswald.”
“A German?”
“Vaguely. He was in the S.S. for fourteen years. He was a camp physician at Auschwitz for six of those years.”
“Doing penance at the House of Hope and Mercy is he?”
“Yes,” said Castle, “and making great strides, too, saving lives right and left.”
“Good for him.”
“Yes. If he keeps going at his present rate, working night and day, the number of people he’s saved will equal the number of people he let die—in the year 3010. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1121:O Mary dear, that you were here
With your brown eyes bright and clear.
And your sweet voice, like a bird
Singing love to its lone mate
In the ivy bower disconsolate;
Voice the sweetest ever heard!
And your brow more...
Than the     sky
Of this azure Italy.
Mary dear, come to me soon,
I am not well whilst thou art far;
As sunset to the sphered moon,
As twilight to the western star,
Thou, beloved, art to me.

O Mary dear, that you were here;
The Castle echo whispers 'Here!'

~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, To Mary -
,
1122:Professor Slughorn met me coming down here, Hagrid.” “Not in trouble, are yeh?” said Hagrid, looking up, alarmed. “Yeh shouldn’ be outta the castle in the evenin’, I know it, it’s my fault —” “No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he’d like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too,” said Harry. “He’s gone to change into something more suitable, I think . . . and he said he’d bring some bottles so we can drink to Aragog’s memory. . . .” “Did he?” said Hagrid, looking both astonished and touched. “Tha’s — tha’s righ’ nice of him, that is, an ~ J K Rowling,
1123:There was nothing churchy about this place. Where was the pulpit, the cross, the other religious accoutrements? This was nothing but a big empty room that didn’t even have chairs. When he thought of a revival, he thought of a brightly lighted place with seats for everybody, probably a PA system for the preacher so people in the back could hear him. When he looked at this place, he thought of a hoedown—except for the candelabra, which reminded him of a medieval castle, something from a Vincent Price movie. He wished he hadn’t thought about Vincent Price. ~ Chet Williamson,
1124:for us to stop than getting off the main motorway and going into a pub, where you might be recognized.” “I come to England and end up eating at McDonald’s.” “The BBC has been showing photos of you almost every hour for the past two days,” he said. “They’re calling it the Oxford Massacre. The Brits aren’t used to gunfights, especially at peaceful college demonstrations.” To Showers, Cumerford seemed like an okay guy. He’d been a special agent about five years longer than she had and had done a stint in Washington, D.C., before being sent to London. It was a ~ Richard Castle,
1125:I didn’t think students were allowed below the main floor. I knew the kitchens were there, as were most of the servants’ quarters; the professors and Mrs. Westcliffe had their own aboveground wing on the other side of the castle. No one had ever specifically told me not to go below stairs, however-probably because a true Iverson girl would never, ever dream of mingling with the help.
I could always say I’d gotten lost. The pillars of the world would hardly collapse. The sky would not shatter. I was barely a hairbreadth away from being the help myself. ~ Shana Abe,
1126:Me?" I said, stunned. "How do I have leverage?" Castle sighed. "You certainly are brave for your age, Ms. Ferrars, but I'm sorry to see your youth so inextricably tied to inexperience. I will try to put it plainly: you have superhuman strength, nearly invincible skin, a letal touch, only seventeen years to your name, and you have single-handedly felled the despot of this nation. And yet you doubt that you might be capable of intimidating the world?" I cringed. "Old habits, Castle," I said quietly. "Bad habits. You're right, of course. Of course you're right. ~ Tahereh Mafi,
1127:People couldn’t become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked. Crowley had thought about this for some time and, around about 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, okay? You can’t start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle. Ah, Aziraphale had said, that’s the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That’s lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it’s ineffable. ~ Terry Pratchett,
1128:She paused before continuing, "What is it you want, anyway? I mean, to expand your business? Triple the income? Buy yourself a castle in the south of Spain and leave Constable Catch endlessly running in circles?"

"Is that all improvement would be to you?" Crow's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Quincy's face. "Is that the pinnacle of where you would like to be?"

"Is there anything wrong with it?"

"No." Crow shook his head and shifted so he was facing Quincy straight on. "But is there anything right with it, love? Now, that's another question. ~ Beth Brower,
1129:You survived upon the companionship of your imagination. You survived upon the companionship of Conan of Cimmeria and Arwen Undómiel; you lived in a sea cave with Menolly and her little dragons; you were an apprentice of Polgara of the Belgariad and a friend to Sophie Hatter in her moving castle. You walked through a closet and found Aslan and pulled a sword from a stone, and you brought a legion of rogue princes back to life with a kiss. You had no Chinese heroes in books, but you imagined them there, and your dreams were filled with half-breeds, like you. ~ Hope Nicholson,
1130:It don’t make no difference how foolish it is, it’s the right way — and it’s the regular way.  And there ain’t no other way, that ever I heard of, and I’ve read all the books that gives any information about these things. They always dig out with a case-knife — and not through dirt, mind you; generly it’s through solid rock.  And it takes them weeks and weeks and weeks, and for ever and ever.  Why, look at one of them prisoners in the bottom dungeon of the Castle Deef, in the harbor of Marseilles, that dug himself out that way; how long was he at it, you reckon? ~ Mark Twain,
1131:Safe In Their Alabaster Chambers,
Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and untouched by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine;
Babbles the bee in a stolid ear;
Pipe the sweet birds in ignorant cadences, -Ah, what sagacity perished here!
Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
~ Emily Dickinson,
1132:There are many things worth telling that are not quite narrative. And eternity itself possesses no beginning, middle or end. Fossils, arrowheads, castle ruins, empty crosses: from the Parthenon to the Bo Tree to a grown man's or woman's old stuffed bear, what moves us about many objects is not what remains but what has vanished. There comes a time, thanks to rivers, when a few beautiful old teeth are all that remain of the two-hundred-foot spires of life we call trees. There comes a river, whose current is time, that does a similar sculpting in the mind. ~ David James Duncan,
1133:I would like to do many things before we should ever call this anything. For when we touch the earth, we touch a foundation of interdependence and impermanence: for we build this castle in the sky, in space. We are what stars or trees or streams are, and stars or trees or streams are what we are. And if things come together if only for a moment or an eon it is the same: it is a warrior’s love song you and I can sing in the shower.

I would like to remember that you and I, we…began things properly. Slowly, deliberately, in the old way: as if we meant it. ~ Waylon H Lewis,
1134:Richard Gansey III had forgotten how many times he had been told he was destined for greatness. He was bred for it; nobility and purpose coded in both sides of his pedigree. His mother’s father had been a diplomat, an architect of fortunes; his father’s father had been an architect, a diplomat of styles. His mother’s mother had tutored the children of European princesses. His father’s mother had built a girls’ school with her own inheritance. The Ganseys were courtiers and kings, and when there was no castle to invite them, they built one.
He was a king. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,
1135:Did this mean he was about to tell her something he wouldn’t normally? Her ears perked—figuratively, since her ears were now feather-covered holes in the sides of her head.

He laughed softly. “You know, you are almost enjoyable to talk to, when you do not say anything back.”

She willed the water in the tub to strike him in the face.

There was a loud splash. “Hey!” He sounded surprised, but not unpleasantly so. “Interesting. You are still capable of elemental powers. But stop—or I will feed you to the castle cats.”

She struck him again. ~ Sherry Thomas,
1136:Oh, my gosh.” Savannah started toward the kitchen. The whole wall was covered in enlarged copies of the pictures they’d taken of the murals downstairs, and dotted with colorful sticky notes indicating every little detail they knew so far. “This is genius.” “I know, right?” Jenn handed a marker to Savannah, and one to Brooke. “It’s like our own game of Clue.” “Or an episode of Castle,” Savannah said. “Isn’t that guy adorable?” Brooke said. “Totally. I love Rick Castle’s boyish charm on that show,” Savannah said. “And we were so happy when him and Beckett got together, ~ Nancy Naigle,
1137:With the mask covering half her face, she could think anything and no one would know. She felt almost as if she were someone else, someone bolder, someone who could be flirtatious and carefree. Tomorrow she could go back to being sensible, to understanding that no matter how strong and noble and kind and good Jorgen was, he was still a forester and not the person her uncle—or she—would ever choose for her to marry. But for tonight, inside this formidable castle and this beautiful, palatial ballroom, she could think outrageous thoughts and imagine the impossible. ~ Melanie Dickerson,
1138:Now let us return to our beautiful and charming castle and discover how to enter it. This appears incongruous: if this castle is the soul, clearly no one can have to enter it, for it is the person himself: one might as well tell some one to go into a room he is already in! There are, however, very different ways of being in this castle; many souls live in the courtyard of the building where the sentinels stand, neither caring to enter farther, nor to know who dwells in that most delightful place, what is in it and what rooms it contains. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle,
1139:There’s a famous Russian proverb about this type of behavior. One day, a poor villager happens upon a magic talking fish that is ready to grant him a single wish. Overjoyed, the villager weighs his options: “Maybe a castle? Or even better—a thousand bars of gold? Why not a ship to sail the world?” As the villager is about to make his decision, the fish interrupts him to say that there is one important caveat: whatever the villager gets, his neighbor will receive two of the same. Without skipping a beat, the villager says, “In that case, please poke one of my eyes out. ~ Bill Browder,
1140:You have to tell me your name. Your real name. That's my only condition.' It took me a minute. I had to fish around to find it. Castle called me honey and Bridge called me Victor. I've hung so many names on myself, one after another. And I actually have a name, a real human name that my mother whispered in my ear when I was four years old, before I was taken from the breed lot and put into the school. Sweet and secret private name. I almost told it to Martha, but then I decided to give her my service name instead. My Bell's name. That was fine. That was close enough. ~ Ben H Winters,
1141:I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over the dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow, but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus using every projection and inequality move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall. ~ Bram Stoker,
1142:I think the word despair is much too small to encompass the magnitude of all it defines. For me, right then, despair meant that everything within me-my organs, my spirit, my hope-plunged down into a place of utter density, of blackness so heavy and bleak I had no idea how to lift any of it up again.
I can’t do this. I’m just Lora Jones. I can’t even remember how to tell a shrimp fork from an oyster fork. I can barely find middle C. I can’t save Jesse and Armand and the castle. I can’t defeat them all.
But I had to. We were going to die unless I did. ~ Shana Abe,
1143:Marriage was a trap. The moment the man said the word “I do” at the altar, he surrendered his freedom. He was no longer free to pursue other women. Staying out past the appointed hour required his wife’s permission. Getting drunk with his friends resulted in a fight when he got home. He’d have to report where he went, when he would be back, who he would be with, and why he would choose to do something else rather than stay home and pick out fabric for new drapes. A married man was no longer carefree. He was a provider, a husband and a father. The castle was no longer his. ~ Ilona Andrews,
1144:You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“No. I locked him in the chapel but it won’t hold. Which reminds me, could I borrow your sword? You’re not going to use it, anyway.”

Royce handed him the falchion sword that had been part of his castle guard disguise. Hadrian took the weapon, slipped it from its sheath, and weighed it in his hand. “I tell you, these swords are terrible. They are heavy and have all the balance of a drunken three-legged dog trying to take a piss.” He then looked at Arista and added, “Oh, excuse me, Your Highness. How are you doing, Princess? ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1145:Dear Nintendo, We need a new Mario game, where you rescue the princess in the first ten minutes, and for the rest of the game you try and push down that sick feeling in your stomach that she’s ‘damaged goods’, a concept detailed again and again in the profoundly sex negative instruction booklet, and when Luigi makes a crack about her and Bowser, you break his nose and immediately regret it. When Peach asks you, in the quiet of her mushroom castle bedroom ‘do you still love me?’ you pretend to be asleep. You press the A button rhythmically, to control your breath, keep it even. ~ Joey Comeau,
1146:The sky was aquamarine, stroked with clouds. She could smell the grass, and taste the scent of small, crushed flowers. She looked back up over her forehead at the grey-black wall towering behind her, and wondered if the castle had ever been attacked on days like this. Did the sky seem so limitless, the waters of the straits so fresh and clean, the flowers so bright and fragrant, when men fought and screamed, hacked and staggered and fell and watched their blood mat the grass? Mists and dusk, rain and lowering cloud seemed the better background; clothes to cover the shame of battle. ~ Anonymous,
1147:This book will prove the following ten facts: 1. A Goon is a being who melts into the foreground and sticks there. 2. Pigs have wings, making them hard to catch. 3. All power corrupts, but we need electricity. 4. When an irresistible force meets an immovable object, the result is a family fight. 5. Music does not always sooth the troubled beast. 6. An Englishman's home is his castle. 7. The female of the species is more deadly than the male. 8. One black eye deserves another. 9. Space is the final frontier, and so is the sewage farm. 10. It pays to increase your word power. ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
1148:Once upon a time, in a gloomy castle on a lonely hill, where there were thirteen clocks that wouldn't go, there lived a cold, aggressive Duke, and his niece, the Princess Saralinda. She was warm in every wind and weather, but he was always cold. His hands were as cold as his smile and almost as cold as his heart. He wore gloves when he was asleep, and he wore gloves when he was awake, which made if difficult for him to pick up pins or coins or the kernels of nuts, or to tear the wings from nightingales. He was six feet four, and forty-six, and even colder than he thought he was. ~ James Thurber,
1149:Inside your head you hear
a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you’re washing up
in a stranger’s bathroom,
standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away
from the dirtiest thing you know.
All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly
darkness,
suddenly only darkness.
In the living room, in the broken yard,
in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport
bathroom’s gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of
unnatural light,
my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away. ~ Richard Siken,
1150:A figure came tiptoeing through the dark. Raven and Apple froze. The figure saw them and froze. All three just stood there, frozen, wondering if they were seen. “Ashlynn, is that you?” Apple finally whispered. “What are you doing out here? Leaving the castle at night is against the rules.” “I know. I’m sorry. I just…” Ashlynn tilted her head. “Wait, what are you doing here?” Apple’s mouth hung open. “Uh… official Royal Student Council business. Hey, maybe you could help us get through the briars? We just have some of that official business I mentioned. Outside the briars. At midnight. ~ Shannon Hale,
1151:To The Londoners
(From the 'In the Fortieth Year')
1940
The twenty-fourth drama of Shakespeare
Time's writing with its indifferent hand.
We, selves, the guests of the awful Feast here,
Better would read Hamlet, Caesar, and Lear
Over the river, in heavy lead clad;
Better - to bear, with singing and torches,
Juliet, the dove, to her family's graves,
Peep into windows of Macbeth's castle godless,
Tremble with scum - hired killers and knaves But not this one, Lord… oh, not this...oh, not this, To read this one we already haven't strengths!
~ Anna Akhmatova,
1152:I really do not know, in my Castle, what loneliness is. Some of our children or grandchildren are always about it, and the young voices of my descendants are delightful — O, how delightful! — to me to hear. My dearest and most devoted wife, ever faithful, ever loving, ever helpful and sustaining and consoling, is the priceless blessing of my house; from whom all its other blessings spring. We are rather a musical family, and when Christiana sees me, at any time, a little weary or depressed, she steals to the piano and sings a gentle air she used to sing when we were first betrothed. ~ Charles Dickens,
1153:when there suddenly fell to my experience one of the most profound and maddening shocks capable of reception by the human mind. Without warning, I heard the heavy door behind me creak slowly open upon its rusted hinges. My immediate sensations are incapable of analysis. To be confronted in a place as thoroughly deserted as I had deemed the old castle with evidence of the presence of man or spirit, produced in my brain a horror of the most acute description. When at last I turned and faced the seat of the sound, my eyes must have started from their orbits at the sight that they beheld. ~ H P Lovecraft,
1154:After that, all the while Millie was eating the pudding... we both tore Christopher's character to shreds. It was wonderful fun.... He drove everyone mad in Chrestomanci Castle by insisting on silk shirts and exactly the right kind of pajamas. 'And he could get them right anyway by magic,' Millie told me, 'if he wasn't too lazy to learn how.... But the thing that really annoys me is the way he never bothers to learn a person's name. If a person isn't important to him, he always forgets their name.' When Millie said this, I realized that Christopher had never once forgotten my name. ~ Diana Wynne Jones,
1155:Flambeau, once the most famous criminal in France and later a very private detective in England, had long retired from both professions. Some say a career of crime had left him with too many scruples for a career of detection. Anyhow, after a life of romantic escapes and tricks of evasion, he had ended at what some might consider an appropriate address; a castle in Spain. [...] Flambeau had casually and almost abruptly fallen in love with a Spanish lady, married and brought up a large family on a Spanish estate, without displaying any apparent desire to stray again beyond its borders. ~ G K Chesterton,
1156:O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa';
And I myself a drap o' dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa'!
O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light! ~ Robert Burns,
1157:We worked for the four days of that blizzard, loosening the mortar in the lower stones of Castle Munth. The wind and storm did the rest; after the walls fell, we melted snow from uphill with our combined Fire Sticks. The resulting flood was impressive.
By the next morning, when the scouts we left behind saw the first of Debegri’s soldiers march up the road, the whole mess had frozen into ice, with our ex-prisoners wandering around poking dismally at the ruins. It would take a great deal of effort to make any use of Munth, and the scouts were still laughing when they came to report. ~ Sherwood Smith,
1158:Even the Raven King - who was not a fairy, but an Englishman - had a somewhat regrettable habit of abducting men and women and taking them to live with him in his castle in the Other Lands. Now, had you and I the power to seize by magic any human being that took our fancy and the power to keep that person by our side through all eternity, and had we all the world to chuse from, then I dare say our choice might fall on someone a little more captivating than a member of the Learned Society of York Magicians, but this comforting thought did not occur to the gentlemen inside York Cathedral ~ Susanna Clarke,
1159:puzzles continue to resist critical explication — to become that bane of scholars down through the ages: the apocryphal work. For all of the castle adventures thus far have been based to some extent on truth. The tales told in preceding books were in fact true stories, so far as this castle scribe has been able to ascertain. Indeed, some of the castle’s more harrowing events are forever etched in acid on the copperplate of my memory. But this is not the case with the “events” related in this particular castle book. No such happenings have been recorded in Perilous’s annals. No such drama ~ John DeChancie,
1160:For a while I thought I was the dragon.
I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was
the princess,
cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle,
young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with
confidence
but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess,
while I’m out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire,
and getting stabbed to death.
Okay, so I’m the dragon. Big deal.
You still get to be the hero.
You get magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights! ~ Richard Siken,
1161:Nonethless it had been a castle, with all that this implies: it had had towering walls and turrets, beams as great as trees, arched doorways wide enough for processions to pass through, ceilings so cavernous that owls nested in them. It had had wings and ramparts and thin windows from which to shoot arrows, internal courtyards, banquet rooms, hidden doors, secret passages. It had had a chapel and, in its bowels, a dungeon. It housed sculptures and paintings, tapestries and cushions, carpets and carvings, its fortressed heart had been clad in glit, silver, glass, gold, damask, ivory, ermine. ~ Sonya Hartnett,
1162:This was because the hawks and falcons in the castle mews were all Lancre birds and therefore naturally possessed of a certain “sod you” independence of mind. After much patient breeding and training Hodgesaargh had managed to get them to let go of someone’s wrist, and now he was working on stopping them viciously attacking the person who had just been holding them, i.e., invariably Hodgesaargh. He was nevertheless a remarkably optimistic and good-natured man who lived for the day when his hawks would be the finest in the world. The hawks lived for the day when they could eat his other ear. ~ Terry Pratchett,
1163:Since moving to the Castle, she'd discovered that only the white men talked of 'black magic.' As though magic had a color. Effia had seen a traveling witch who carried a snake around her neck and shoulders. This woman had had a son. She'd sung lullabies to him at night and held his hands and kept him fed, same as anyone else. There was nothing dark about her.

The need to call this thing 'good' and this thing 'bad,' this thing 'white' and this thing 'black,' was an impulse that Effia did not understand. In her village, everything was everything. Everything bore the weight of everything else. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
1164:She said being human is being a young child on Christmas Day who receives an absolutely magnificent castle. And there is a perfect photograph of this castle on the box and you want more than anything to play with the castle and the knights and the princesses because it looks like such a perfectly human world, but the only problem is that the castle isn’t built. It’s in tiny intricate pieces, and although there’s a book of instructions you don’t understand it. And nor can your parents or Aunt Sylvie. So you are just left, crying at the ideal castle on the box which no one would ever be able to build ~ Matt Haig,
1165:8. Now let us turn at last to our castle with its many mansions. You must not think of a suite of rooms placed in succession, but fix your eyes on the keep, the court inhabited by the King.23' Like the kernel of the palmito,24' from which several rinds must be removed before coming to the eatable part, this principal chamber is surrounded by many others. However large, magnificent, and spacious you imagine this castle to be, you cannot exaggerate it; the capacity of the soul is beyond all our understanding, and the Sun within this palace enlightens every part of it. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle,
1166:Dumbledore had already crossed the crenellated ramparts and was dismounting; Harry landed next to him seconds later and looked around. The ramparts were deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, of a body. “What does it mean?” Harry asked Dumbledore, looking up at the green skull with its serpent’s tongue glinting evilly above them. “Is it the real Mark? Has someone definitely been — Professor?” In the dim green glow from the Mark, Harry saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his blackened hand. ~ J K Rowling,
1167:Turtles have always been my sigil, I suppose. When I was a kid, growing up in Bayonne, NJ, I lived in a federal housing project, and we were not allowed to have a dog or cats. The only pets I could have were turtles. So, I had an entire toy castle filled with dime-store turtles. I gave them all names, and since they were living in a toy castle, I decided they were all knights and kingsand I made up stories about how they killed each other and betrayed each other and fought for the kingdom. So, Game of Thrones, actually began with turtles. I decided later to recast it with actual human beings. ~ George R R Martin,
1168:With the new, unedited Saudi Arabian National Guard manuals stuffed in her briefcase and a piece of licorice dangling from her mouth, she follows Edward through the plant. He wants to show her the anti-tanks. “Can’t write about ’em, if you’ve never seen ’em.” But Vero doesn’t want to see them. She wants to believe in her own etymology: anti-tank = the opposite of tank Whatever the opposite of tank might be—she doesn’t care—a bouncy castle, a skateboard, a bar on wheels. Her capacity for denial is astonishing, matched only by her capacity for rationalization. She knows this. Again, she doesn’t care. ~ Angie Abdou,
1169:Maybe... maybe the little accessories were right. Maybe he just didn't know how to ask nicely.
No.
Belle shook her head. She had read about this. The victims of kidnapping often wound up sympathizing with the perpetrator. It was a sickness, a very scientifically predictable one.
This was the eighteenth century. The age of reason. And a man-beast had thrown her father into prison for simply trespassing. This wasn't just about a failure to be polite. This was about breaking the laws of France. Even if the little magical castle was hidden far from the worlds of Paris and Versailles.
But... ~ Liz Braswell,
1170:Seeing the world with all the unspoiled simplicity of a young child, you are free from concepts of beauty and ugliness, good and evil, and no longer fall prey to conflicting tendencies driven by desire or repulsion. Why trouble yourself about all the ups and downs of daily life, like a child who delights in building a sand castle but cries when it collapses? To get what they want and be rid of what they dislike, look how people throw themselves into torments, like moths plunging into the flame of a lamp! Would it not be better to put down your heavy burden of dreamlike obsessions once and for all?  ~ Dilgo Khyentse,
1171:In my world death was like a nameless and incomprehensible hand, a door-to-door salesman who took away mothers, beggars, or ninety-year-old neighbors, like a hellish lottery. But I couldn't absorb the idea that death could actually walk by my side, with a human face and a heart that was poisoned with hatred, that death could be dressed in a uniform or raincoat, queue up at the cinema, laugh in bars, or take his children out for a walk to Ciudadela Park in the morning, and then, in the afternoon, make someone disappear in the dungeons of Montjuïc Castle or in a common grave with no name or ceremony. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,
1172:Fighting isn’t all there is to the Art of War. The men who think that way, and are satisfied to have food to eat and a place to sleep, are mere vagabonds. A serious student is much more concerned with training his mind and disciplining his spirit than with developing martial skills. He has to learn about all sorts of things—geography, irrigation, the people’s feelings, their manners and customs, their relationship with the lord of their territory. He wants to know what goes on inside the castle, not just what goes on outside it. He wants, essentially, to go everywhere he can and learn everything he can. ~ Eiji Yoshikawa,
1173:THE HIDDEN PAINTING THE AMUSEMENT PARK MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE MIXED-UP ZOO THE CAMP-OUT MYSTERY THE MYSTERY GIRL THE MYSTERY CRUISE THE DISAPPEARING FRIEND MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE SINGING GHOST MYSTERY IN THE SNOW THE PIZZA MYSTERY THE MYSTERY HORSE THE MYSTERY AT THE DOG SHOW THE CASTLE MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST VILLAGE THE MYSTERY ON THE ICE THE MYSTERY OF THE PURPLE POOL THE GHOST SHIP MYSTERY THE MYSTERY IN WASHINGTON, DC THE CANOE TRIP MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE HIDDEN BEACH THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING CAT THE MYSTERY AT SNOWFLAKE INN THE MYSTERY ON STAGE THE DINOSAUR MYSTERY T ~ Gertrude Chandler Warner,
1174:The last thing that you remember is standing before the wizard Lakmir as he gestured wildly and chanted in an archaic tongue. Now you find yourself staring at an entryway which lies at the edge of a forest. The Druid's words still ring in your ears: "Within the walls of the Castle Shadowgate lies your quest. If the prophecies hold true, the dreaded Warlock Lord will use his dark magic to raise the Behemoth, the deadliest of the Titans, from the depths of the earth. You are the seed of prophecy, the last of the line of kings, and only you can stop the Warlock Lord from darkening our world FOREVER. Fare thee well. ~ Shadowgate,
1175:The Mennonites have Dirk Willems, who was arrested for his religious beliefs in the sixteenth century and held in a prison tower. With the aid of a rope made of knotted rags, he let himself down from the window and escaped across the castle’s ice-covered moat. A guard gave chase. Willems made it safely to the other side. The guard did not, falling through the ice into the freezing water, and Willems stopped, went back, and pulled his pursuer to safety. For his act of compassion, he was taken back to prison, tortured, and then burned slowly at the stake as he repeated “Oh, my Lord, my God” seventy times over.8 ~ Malcolm Gladwell,
1176:I can't swim, Damin.'
'Come on! You don't balk at riding dragons.'
...R'shiel decided she didn't have time to be squeamish. She slipped into the water, gasping as the chill salty ocean filled her mouth. She began to panic as the waves crashed over her, then a warm, solid body pushed her clear of the foam. She grabbed for the beast's fin and pulled herself upright as it plunged through the waves in the wake of the creatures carrying Adrina and Damin.
R'shiel clung to the beast in terror as the castle dwindled in the distance, determined never, as long as she lived, to ask another god for his help again. ~ Jennifer Fallon,
1177:As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts. ~ J K Rowling,
1178:He leaned close. “Oh, I’d notice you, Miss Goodnight. I’d notice you. There’s no castle big enough to keep a man like me from being aware, every moment, of a woman like you. You don’t have to speak a word. I can hear the rustle of your petticoats. I can smell the scent of your skin. I can feel your heat.” Heavens. If he could sense her heat, he must feel it right now. She was hot everywhere. “I’m not Lord Archer,” he went on in that low, seductive rumble. “I’ve never read your father’s soppy stories, and you’re not some little girl to me. I’ve run my hands all over your body. And these hands have an excellent memory. ~ Tessa Dare,
1179:One less happy practice Vanbrugh introduced with Carlisle at Castle Howard was that of razing estate villages and moving the occupants elsewhere if they were deemed to be insufficiently picturesque or intrusive. At Castle Howard, Vanbrugh cleared away not only an existing village but also a church and the ruined castle from which the new house took its name. Soon villages up and down the country were being leveled to make way for more extensive houses and unimpeded views. It was almost as if a rich person couldn’t begin work on a grand house until he had thoroughly disrupted at least a few dozen menial lives. Oliver ~ Bill Bryson,
1180:All the radiance of April in Italy lay gathered together at her feet. The sun poured in on her. The sea lay asleep in it, hardly stirring. Across the bay the lovely mountains, exquisitely different in color, were asleep too in the light; and underneath her window, at the bottom of the flower-starred grass slope from which the wall of castle rose up, was a great cypress, cutting through the delicate blues and violets and rose-colors of the mountains and the sea like a great black sword.

She stared. Such beauty; and she there to see it. Such beauty; and she alive to feel it. Her face was bathed in light. ~ Elizabeth von Arnim,
1181:I never saw the King—I did not expect to, yet a tiny part of me, the part which imagined him leading his troops with raven plumes blown back from a silver helmet, was disappointed. The King cloistered himself in his castle, it was said, surrounded on all sides by rivers, one white, and one black. It sounded like a child’s story, and in the days to come I wondered if there had ever been a King, if we were not simply marching and fighting and digging and eating horrors of worm and centipede and mud to keep starvation at our backs because someone, somewhere, had once simply dreamed of a King with a golden crown. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
1182:I don't make it a habit to talk about my past with people I don't know,” she said. “But I confess, there's something about you, pirate, that makes me want to trust you. I don't trust you, of course. I don't trust anyone.” “I give you my word, that your heart is safe with me.” “My heart is a castle, and there's a deep moat around it with no way across.” “I'll bet a determined and gallant knight could cross that moat,” he said, with a little grin. “I can't let the drawbridge down. It's not in my nature. Besides, you're no knight. You're a pirate.” No knight?  He grinned, secretively, to himself. How wrong you are, madam. ~ Danelle Harmon,
1183:YES! a ten!
...eight...nine...ten!"

"Landing you in the Enchanted Forest, which is MY domain.
600 gold, please."

"My Scottie dog will not pay your tyrannical toll!"

"Nimona... "

"He rallied the oppressed woodland creatures and organized a revolt!"

"It just so happens I am a just ruler and am greatly admired by all my subjects."

"Squirrels scale the walls of the castle and bears batter down the gates!
Bloody chaos ensues!
The Enchanted Forest is ours!"

"I'm taking the 600 gold anyway."

"HIGHWAY ROBBERY! "

"Plus another 600 for damages. ~ Noelle Stevenson,
1184:What people thought of the castle was one of the few things about the kingdom Snow could control, and she took pride in the work... even on days when her back began to ache from scrubbing tiles or her hands grew callused from all the pruning she did in the garden. She tried to break up her day between indoor and outdoor activities when the weather allowed it. Today was a fine day, so she hoped to get out to the garden as soon as possible. She wanted to gather flowers to make bouquets for the castle vases. There wouldn't be many who had the opportunity to see the flowers, but at least the servants' day would be brightened. ~ Jen Calonita,
1185:PART ONE BRIGHT WINTER SKIES Christmas, 1274 A.D. The de Wolfe stronghold of Castle Questing The snows were fierce along the borders this year. The first snow of the season hitting about a week before Christmas and possibly dumping an entire year’s worth of snow onto the countryside in just a few days. The beauty of it was that the entire land was white, from the trees to the structures to the meadows – a pristine, pure white that, under bright winter skies, was blindingly brilliant. But the dreary of it, if there was such a thing, was that there had only been one pristine white day in the past week, and it happened to be ~ Kathryn Le Veque,
1186:My God!" Amaury glared resentfully at the armed men surrounding his own as Castle Eberhart came into view. "See you the gall of the woman?"
Blake hid a smile an shrugged. "'Twould seem your bride would have you safely delivered."
"Safely delivered?" Grimacing,he shook his head. "She sends her man out to fetch me as if I am a stray cow."
"Surely she would not send so many for a cow?"
Amaury glared at his laughing friend.
Blake shrugged. "Well,I have said it afore and-"
"If you say once more that I should refuse to marry her,I will strike you down right here."
"You may try," Blake allowed with a small smile. ~ Lynsay Sands,
1187:What happens is just this: Queen Bella packs most of her wardrobe (11 pages) and travels to Guilder (2 pages). In Guilder she unpacks (5 pages), then tenders the invitation to Princess Noreena (1 page). Princess Noreena accepts (1 page). Then Princess Noreena packs all her clothes and hats (23 pages) and, together, the Princess and the Queen travel back to Florin for the annual celebration of the founding of Florin City (1 page). They reach King Lotharon's castle, where Princess Noreena is shown her quarters (1/2 page) and unpacks all the same clothes and hats we've just seen her pack one and a half pages before (12 pages). ~ William Goldman,
1188:The door of entry into this castle is prayer and meditation. If a person does not realize Whom he is addressing, and understand what he is asking for, and who it is that is asking and of Whom he is asking it, he is not praying at all even though he is constantly moving his lips. Souls without prayer are like people whose bodies or limbs are paralyzed: they possess feet and hands but they cannot control them. In the same way, there are souls so infirm and so accustomed to busying themselves with outside affairs that nothing can be done for them, and it seems as though they are incapable of entering within themselves at all. ~ Padma Aon Prakasha,
1189:They hurried away, Westley’s hand on her elbow as he ushered her away from the house. “As I was saying.” Westley cleared his throat. They were walking across the grassy area in front of the castle, headed back to the road that would take them to the meadow and the festival. “Yes?” “Would you ever consider marrying me, a man without a title, if it meant defying the king?” “Yes. I would consider it.” Did he say what she thought he said? It was not exactly a proposal of marriage, but very nearly. Her insides seemed to go numb at the thought of being so close to her greatest wish coming true. They stared into each other’s eyes. ~ Melanie Dickerson,
1190:into the West Wing. Not even the sisters came to this part of the castle. He had escaped their mockery for long stretches of time when he spent most of his days here in the beginning—hiding away, letting his anger swell to epic proportions, fearful of what he was becoming, yet intrigued concurrently. It had been that way at first, hadn’t it? Intriguing. The subtle differences in his features, the lines around his eyes that frightened his foes when he narrowed them. Using a look rather than words to strike fear into his enemies was very useful indeed. He had looked upon himself in the mirror in those days, trying to distinguish ~ Serena Valentino,
1191:Briefly, this doctrine is that man suffers because of his craving to possess and keep for ever things which are essentially impermanent. Chief among these things is his own person, for this is his means of isolating himself from the rest of life, his castle into which he can retreat and from which he can assert himself against external forces. He believes that this fortified and isolated position is the best means of obtaining happiness; it enables him to fight against change, to strive to keep pleasing things for himself, to shut out suffering and to shape circumstances as he wills. In short, it is his means of resisting life. The ~ Alan W Watts,
1192:By ten o'clock she thought he might soon be ready to talk. He'd threatened, blustered, even tried to sweet-talk her. Then the bribery had begun. He'd let her live if she let him out immediately. He'd give her three horses, two sheep, and a cow. He'd give her a pouch of coin, three horses, two sheep, not just a cow but a milking cow, and set her up anywhere in England, if she would just leave his castle and not bother him again for the rest of his life. The only offer/threat that had perked her momentary interest was when he'd shouted that he was going to "toop her 'til her bonny legs fell off."

She should be so lucky. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
1193:Don't be so hard on yourself,
as if you'd been trapped
and sealed in amber.
Since you passed away
I've been following your trail,
traced only with lost words.

Recently I went looking for the castle
and found it in Bohemia.
You'd given orders
for diligent restorers
to renew its façades
on all sides.

They hadn't finished back then,
they're still at it today,
and they will be tomorrow.
Because it crumbles, cracks appear,
mold swells the plaster, withers its bright skin,
on the weather side first.

It comforts me, their toil,
for I too loved you
on all sides, in vain. ~ G nter Grass,
1194:But it’s so beautiful, my castle; it’s the most wonderful place to go home to. It sits on a cliff above the sea. There are steps down to the water, cut into the cliff. And balconies hanging over the cliff—you feel as if you’ll fall if you lean too far. At night the sun goes down across the water, and the whole sky turns red and orange, and the sea to match it. Sometimes there are great fish out there, fish of impossible colors. They come to the surface and roll about—you can watch them from the balconies. And in winter the waves are high, and the wind’ll knock you down. You can’t go out to the balconies in winter. It’s dangerous, and wild. ~ Kristin Cashore,
1195:Down in the valley, valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow”
“Roses love sunshine, violets love dew
Angels in heaven know I love you
Know I love you, love, know I love you
Angels in heaven know I love you.”

Write me a letter, send it by mail
Send it in care of the Birmingham jail
Birmingham jail, love, Birmingham jail
Send it in care of the Birmingham jail.”

Build me a castle, forty feet high
So I can see her as she rides by
As she rides by, dear, as she rides by
So I can see her as she rides by ~ Amy Harmon,
1196:And as for Vidanric, well, you’re safe there. I’ve never met anyone as closemouthed, when he wants to be. He won’t ask your reasons. What?”
“I said, ‘Hah.’”
“What is it, do you mislike him?” Again she was studying me, her fingers playing with the pretty fan hanging at her waist.
“Yes. No. Not mislike, but more…mistrust. Not what he’ll do, but what he might say,” I babbled. “Oh, never mind. It’s all foolishness. Suffice it to say I feel better when we’re at opposite ends of the country, but I’ll settle for opposite ends of the castle.”
Her eyes widened. If she hadn’t been a lady, I would have said she was on the verge of whistling. ~ Sherwood Smith,
1197:I decided to walk alongside Beth and the annoying little ass. It seemed right that it wouldn't be her walking toward me or me waiting for her, but us traveling on the journey together. Because sometimes, that's how love is. It isn't a man chasing a woman, it isn't a man storming the castle, and it isn't the girl waiting for love to happen. It's two people making a commitment. It's two people realizing that they hold the keys to their own happiness in their own damn hands. The problem? Most people forget that they have the power to live the fairytale. I'd forgotten I had the power, and in the end, I'd been willing to walk away from my future. ~ Rachel Van Dyken,
1198:Sometimes he has me climb into his lap and sit there while he strokes my hair and tells me about the old days in Tallith. The seven towers of Tallith castle and the walkways between them, his life with his sister and his father. That sometimes he sounds so wistful and lonely that I forget for an instant that he’s a monster, lulled by his soft voice and his hands in my hair. Until he turns my face to his and I see him, and I recall exactly what he is, and the look in my eyes reminds him that he might control my body, but he can’t control my mind. Then he throws me to the ground and leaves me there for hours, unable to move until he wills it. ~ Melinda Salisbury,
1199:winced as the cold outside wind hit them. Through every mirror they could hear the commotion of doors opening, portcullises rising, bars melting, invisible Magical barriers dropping with electric hisses. And then there was the sound of many, many pairs of running feet and opening wings. ‘Oh by the steaming droppings of the Big-bottomed Bogburper!’ swore the Drood Commander, his eyes popping with disbelief. ‘He’s used the Staff-That-Commands-the-Castle to open all the doors so EVERYBODY can escape!!!!!!’ ‘Your guards are going to have their hands full now, Commander,’ said Encanzo drily. ‘We’ll get to see how they deal with those Grim Annises, ~ Cressida Cowell,
1200:also by the same author ROSENCRANTZ AND GUILDENSTERN ARE DEAD THE REAL INSPECTOR HOUND ENTER A FREE MAN AFTER MAGRITTE JUMPERS TRAVESTIES DIRTY LINEN AND NEW-FOUND-LAND NIGHT AND DAY DOGG’S HAMLET, CAHOOT’S MACBETH ROUGH CROSSING and ON THE RAZZLE (adapted from Ferenc Molnár’s Play at the Castle and Johann Nestroy’s Einen Jux will er sich machen) THE REAL THING THE DOG IT WAS THAT DIED AND OTHER PLAYS SQUARING THE CIRCLE with EVERY GOOD BOY DESERVES FAVOUR and PROFESSIONAL FOUL HAPGOOD DALLIANCE AND UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY (a version of Arthur Schintzler’s Das weite Land) ARCADIA INDIAN INK (an adaptation of In the Native State) THE INVENTION OF LOVE ~ Tom Stoppard,
1201:Churchill acknowledged Fisher’s energy and prior genius. “But he was seventy-four years old,” Churchill wrote, in an oblique evisceration. “As in a great castle which has long contended with time, the mighty central mass of the donjon towered up intact and seemingly everlasting. But the outworks and the battlements had fallen away, and its imperious ruler dwelt only in the special apartments and corridors with which he had a lifelong familiarity.” This, however, was exactly what Churchill had hoped for in bringing Fisher back as First Sea Lord. “I took him because I knew he was old and weak, and that I should be able to keep things in my own hands. ~ Erik Larson,
1202:In the meantime, there are all my books..."
I'd seen his books. Almost all of them had been written before his birth, which had been more than a century and a half before mine. Many of them were books of love poems. He'd tried to read to me from one of them the night before, in order to cheer me up.
It hadn't worked.
I thought it more polite to say "Thank you, John," than "Do you have any books that aren't about love? And young couples expressing that love? Because I do not need encouragement in that direction right now."
"And you have this whole castle to explore," he said, an eager light in his eyes. "The gardens are beautiful... ~ Meg Cabot,
1203:This tragic short story was written in 1829 and published in 1830 in La Mode, followed by another edition in the Gosselin magazine in 1831. The tale also appeared in 1846 in volume II of Études Philosophiques of the Furne edition. Set during the time of the French army’s occupation of Spain under Napoleon, the tale opens with an idyllic moonlit scene in the castle gardens of the coastal town of Menda. The local French commandant, Victor Marchand, stands lost in thought, meditating on the beautiful Clara, the daughter of the local grandee. Thoughts of romance are soon dissipated as he becomes aware that a fleet of ships is approaching the coast. ~ Honor de Balzac,
1204:My mother was, in the tradition of parents, quite a complicated and contradictory human being. Moralistic but a devout lover of pleasure (food, music, the aesthetics of nature). Deeply religious but seemingly as comforted by singing a secular chanson as by prayer. A lover of the natural world who was visibly anxious every time she left the castle. Fragile, but also though and stubborn. I never knew how many of her oddities had sprung from grief and how many from her own inherent nature. "There is not one blade of grass, there is no colour in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice," my mother told me once, shortly after arriving in England. ~ Matt Haig,
1205:And, ah! his castle. The faery solitude of the place, with its turrets of mistly blue, its courtyard, its spiked gate, his castle that lay on the very bosom of the sea with seabirds mewing about its attics, the casements opening onto the green and purple, evanescent departures of the ocean, cut off by the tide from land for half a day . . . that castle, at home neither on the land nor on the water, a mysterious, amphibious place, contravening the materiality of both earth and waves, with the melancholy of a mermaiden who perches on her rocks and waits, endlessly, for a lover who had drowned far away, long ago. That lovely, sad, sea-siren of a place. ~ Angela Carter,
1206:Meanwhile the Viscount of Sylvania, who could no longer walk, now seldom left his castle. His friends and his family were with him all day, and he could own up to the most blameworthy folly, the most absurd extravagance, state the most flagrant paradox, or imply the most shocking fault without his kinsmen reproaching him or his friends joking or disagreeing with him. It was as if they had tacitly absolved him of any responsibility for his deeds and words. Above all they seemed to be trying to keep him from hearing the last sounds, to muffle with sweetness, if not drown out with tenderness, the final creakings of his body, from which life was ebbing. ~ Marcel Proust,
1207:And now Harry saw clearly what was to be done. “Well,” he said, with a most convincing hesitancy, “well, if you wanted to come, Professor, Hagrid would probably be really pleased. . . . Give Aragog a better send-off, you know . . .” “Yes, of course,” said Slughorn, his eyes now gleaming with enthusiasm. “I tell you what, Harry, I’ll meet you down there with a bottle or two. . . . We’ll drink the poor beast’s — well — not health — but we’ll send it off in style, anyway, once it’s buried. And I’ll change my tie, this one is a little exuberant for the occasion. . . .” He bustled back into the castle, and Harry sped off to Hagrid’s, delighted with himself. ~ J K Rowling,
1208:Let's say I will rip your life apart. Me and my banker friends. How can he explain to him? The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from his border fortresses, not even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from places he has never imagined; from Lisbon, from where the ships with sails of silk drift west and are burned up in the sun. Not from castle walls, but from counting houses, not by the call of the bugle, but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the mechanism of the gun but by the scrape of the pen on the page of the promissory note that pays for the gun and the gunsmith and the powder and shot. ~ Hilary Mantel,
1209:One day Cunegonde, while walking near the castle, in a little wood which they called a park, saw between the bushes, Dr. Pangloss giving a lesson in experimental natural philosophy to her mother’s chamber-maid, a little brown wench, very pretty and very docile. As Miss Cunegonde had a great disposition for the sciences, she breathlessly observed the repeated experiments of which she was a witness; she clearly perceived the force of the Doctor’s reasons, the effects, and the causes; she turned back greatly flurried, quite pensive, and filled with the desire to be learned; dreaming that she might well be a sufficient reason for young Candide, and he for her. ~ Voltaire,
1210:You don’t think she can have been . . . you know . . . in love with Sirius?” Hermione stared at him. “What on earth makes you say that?” “I dunno,” said Harry, shrugging, “but she was nearly crying when I mentioned his name . . . and her Patronus is a big four-legged thing now. . . . I wondered whether it hadn’t become . . . you know . . . him.” “It’s a thought,” said Hermione slowly. “But I still don’t know why she’d be bursting into the castle to see Dumbledore, if that’s really why she was here. . . .” “Goes back to what I said, doesn’t it?” said Ron, who was now shoveling mashed potato into his mouth. “She’s gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. Women,” he ~ J K Rowling,
1211:James had heard this speech or something like it many times before. The British were no longer selling slaves to America, but slavery had not ended, and his father did not seem to think that it would end. They would just trade one type of shackles for another, trade physical ones for the invisible ones that wrapped around the mind. James didn't understand this when he was younger, when the legal slave exportation had ended and the illegal one had begun, but he understood now. The British had no intention of leaving Africa, even once the slave trade ended. They owned the Castle, and, though they had yet to speak it aloud, they intended to own the land as well. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
1212:The Girl Guides kept up their activities as well, giving Elizabeth an unexpectedly democratic experience when refugees from London’s bomb-ravaged East End were taken in by families on the Windsor estate and joined the troop. The girls earned their cooking badges, with instruction from a castle housekeeper, by baking cakes and scones (a talent Elizabeth would later display for a U.S. president) and making stew and soup. With their Cockney accents and rough ways, the refugees gave the future Queen no deference, calling her Lilibet, the nickname even daughters of aristocrats were forbidden to use, and compelling her to wash dishes in an oily tub of water ~ Sally Bedell Smith,
1213:Think of this – that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other. True, the writer may have been alone also with Spenser's golden apples in the Faerie Queene, Proserpina's garden, glistening bright among the place's ashes and cinders, may have seen in his mind's eye, apple of his eye, the golden fruit of the Primavera, may have seen Paradise Lost, in the garden where Eve recalled Pomona and Proserpina. He was alone when he wrote and he was not alone then, all these voices sang, the same words, golden apples, different words in different places, an Irish castle, un unseen cottage, elastic-walled and grey round blind eyes. ~ A S Byatt,
1214:He kissed her again, bringing both hands up behind her head to hold her still, and his hot lips slanted sideways across her open moutb. Her head spun crazily. She was dizzy. She could not breathe in here. She would fall in front of the queen. They would all know what he had done. There was no time left, surely. The castle portcullis would swing up, the door would be opened and His Grace would see them!
He pulled his mouth away and said against her flushed cheek, "I have never envied any other man his bed before this long, long week. Now two men will possess you and neither really loves you, Mary Bullen. Think of me when you spread your sweet thighs for them! ~ Karen Harper,
1215:Let's say I will rip your life apart. Me and my banker friends."
How can he explain that to him? The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from border fortresses, not even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from places he has never imagined; from Lisbon, from where the ships with sails of silk drift west and are burned up in the sun. Not from the castle walls, but from counting houses, not be the call of the bugle, but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the mechanism of the gun but by the scrape of the pen on the page of the promissory note that pays for the gun and the gunsmith and the powder and shot. ~ Hilary Mantel,
1216:They’ve been lying from the start. From the first time we read the words ‘once upon a time,’ we’re fed the idea that these girls—these gorgeous, demure, singing-with-the-wildlife girls—get a happy ending. And I get it. Poor thing had to do some chores around the house, fine. But the idea that she needs a magic old lady to come down and skim off the dirt so the prince will see her beauty? That’s ridiculous. Maybe she should have been working on her lockpicking skills instead of serenading squirrels. She could have busted out, hitched a ride to the castle, and impressed the prince with her safe-cracking prowess. Sorry, magic-fairy lady. She didn’t need your help. ~ Kelsey Macke,
1217:It was Fidelma's favourite walk, a winding path by the river in the Castle grounds. The Castle with its turrets and ivied walls was a five-star hotel which attracted celebrities and regulars who came for the fishing and shooting. She could do that walk in her sleep, over the bridge, down three steps, by a sign that read 'Please Close the Gate' and all of a sudden the sound of the river, squeezing its way under the bridge and then bursting out as it opened into a wide sweep, making its way upstream, girdling the small islands that it passed. The sound was like water bursting in childbirth, or so a woman who had had many children once told her, and she remembered it. ~ Edna O Brien,
1218:To be honest, it was pretty hard to leave. I desperately wanted to turn around, and tell him everything would be okay. That I adore him and I trust him and that I'll stand by him while he goes through this tough time. But I'm just too tired. I'm thirty years old. I'm tired of relationships that are always painful. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of waiting by the phone, and second-guessing what a guy says and trusting someone not to hurt me. Again. I've been storming the relationship castle for fifteen years, and I still don't have my prince. I've got a bunch of battle scars from the field and I want to go home and nurse my wounds. I don't want to fight anymore. ~ Kim Gruenenfelder,
1219:Ah." He paused. "I see where this is going. You want to know my secret pain."
"Secret pain?"
"Oh, yes. My inner demons. The dark current of torment washing away little grains of my soul. That's what you're after. You think that if you keep me here in your pretty castle and cosset me with sixteen pillows, I'll learn to love myself and cease submitting my body to such horrific abuse."
Clio bit her lip, grateful it was too dark for him to see her blush. If she'd been flamingo pink the other day, she must be fuchsia now. "I don't know where you get these ideas."
He chuckled. "From every woman I've ever met. You're not the first to try it, and you won't be the last. ~ Tessa Dare,
1220:What we consume now is not objects or events, but our experience of them. Just as we never need to leave our cars, so we never need to leave our own skulls. The experience is already out there, as ready-made as a pizza, as bluntly objective as a boulder, and all we need to do is receive it. It is as though there is an experience hanging in the air, waiting for a human subject to come alone and have it. Niagara Falls, Dublin Castle and the Great Wall of China do our experiencing for us. They come ready-interpreted, thus saving us a lot of inconvenient labour. What matters is not the place itself but the act of consuming it. We buy an experience like we pick up a T-shirt. ~ Terry Eagleton,
1221:I had to go back and reread the page a few times. As I read it, I kept drifting out of the book, out of the booth, and coasting on the green crest of the song, to the momentary idea that any point on Earth was mine for the visiting, that I'd lucked out living in the reality I was in. And I also got the feeling I was souring and damaging that luck by enjoying the contentment of pulling the shades on the sun, and shutting out my fellow employees and the world, and folding myself up in the construct of a brilliant novel like The Man in the High Castle, that all the reading I'd been doing up to this point hadn't enhanced my life, but rather had replaced and delayed it. ~ Patton Oswalt,
1222:The problem was that those old bad times, once they got keyed up, were hard to quiet. It was all around me in the air now, all those miserable fucking memories, the terrified lowing of the cattle and the ka-thunk of the bolt gun. The heat and stench of the workroom, my cramped grip on the saw, the cows' slow turning in the air, bloated and dripping gore. My brother Castle, his big eyes in the darkness. I was trying to go along now and get on with my work, and all these snatches of vision hovered like bits of ash or motes of dust, flickering glimpses of an old world, my old world, floating around me and settling on my skin as I came out onto Central Avenue, breathing hard. ~ Ben H Winters,
1223:Mister MacKeltar," Drustan corrected for the umpteenth time, with a this-is-really-wearing-thin-but-I'm-determined-to-be-patient smile. No matter how many times he told Farley that he was not a laird, that he was simply Mr. MacKeltar, that it was Christopher (his modern-day descendant who lived up the road in the oldest castle on the land) who was actually laird, Farley refused to hear it. The eighty-something-year-old butler, who insisted he was sixty-two and who had obviously never before buttled in his life until the day he'd arrived on their doorstep, was determined to be a butler to a lord. Period. And he wasn't about to let Drustan interfere with that aspiration. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
1224:Do you think the Gilarabrywn knows we’re still in here?”

“Esrahaddon said it was intelligent, so I presume it can count.”

“Then it will come back and find us. We have to reach the castle. The distance across the open is about—what? Two hundred feet?”

“About that,” Royce confirmed.

“I guess we can hope it’s still munching on Millie. Ready?”

“Run spread out so it can’t get both of us. Go.” The grass was slick with dew and filled with stumps and pits. Hadrian got only a dozen yards before falling on his face.

“Stay behind me,” Royce told him.

“I thought we were spreading out?”

“That’s before I remembered you’re blind. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1225:Septimus had no need to untie Spit Fyre as the dragon had already chewed his way through the rope. They followed Aunt Zelda and Jenna out the side door at the foot of the turret and down to the Palace Gate. Aunt Zelda kept up a brisk pace. Showing a surprising knowledge of the Castle’s narrow alleyways and sideslips, she hurtled along. Oncoming pedestrians were taken aback at the sight of the large patchwork tent approaching them at full speed. They flattened themselves against the walls, and, as the tent passed by with the Princess, the ExtraOrdinary Apprentice and a feral-looking boy with bandaged hands—not to mention a dragon—in its wake, people rubbed their eyes in disbelief. ~ Angie Sage,
1226:Imagine a place
where time is counted
by ticks and tocks,
but space is measured
in sunset

Imagine a place
where each turn
takes you home.

Imagine a place
where the tang of pine
Meets the salt of sea
where adventure finds
a waiting heart

Imagine a place
where words shelter you
ideas
uphold you,and
thought lead you
to the secret
inside the labyrinth

...

Imagine a place
where castle and cloud
Shift from square to square
and the world lies
in the winner's hand

Imagine a place
where the sigh of waves
spill from your suitcase
and drift into your dreams

Imagine....here ~ Sarah L Thomson,
1227:And Castle nodded sagely. 'So this is a picture of the meaninglessness of it all! I couldn't agree more.'

'Do you really agree?' I asked. 'A minute ago you said something about Jesus.'

'Who?' said Castle.

'Jesus Christ?'

'Oh,' said Castle. 'Him.' He shrugged. 'People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.'

'I see.' I knew I wasn't going to have an easy time writing a popular article about him. I was going to have to concentrate on his saintly deeds and ignore entirely the satanic things he thought and said. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1228:She never sent the castle to sleep”, said Granny, “that’s just an old wife’s tale. She just stirred up time a little. It’s not as hard as people think, everyone does it all the time. It’s like rubber, is time, you can stretch it to suit yourself.”
Magrat was about to say: That’s not right, time is time, every second lasts a second, that’s its job. The she recalled weeks that had flown past and afternoons that had lasted forever. Some minutes had lasted hours, some hours had gone past so quickly she hadn’t been aware they’d gone past at all.
“But that’s just people’s perception, isn’t it?”
“Oh yes”, said Granny, “of course it is, it all is, what difference does that make? ~ Terry Pratchett,
1229:We're prisoners here."
"What would Jack do, Belle?"
When did he become the insightful one?
She mock pouted. "I suppose he would figure out some super clever way around it."
The Beast looked at her with wry amusement. "Since you're the clever one here and haven't come up with a cunning plan, I was going to suggest brute force. Like we're a castle under siege, fighting them off. That's what I know."
"That's a fair point," she ceded, smiling.
"We should... round up everything sharp and cutting," he said. "And hammers and mallets to smash the panes between them."
"Yes, sir, prince general, sir," Belle said, saluting him with a sparkle in her eye. ~ Liz Braswell,
1230:I stared at our hands. “Am I ever going to see you again?”
“You better believe it,” he said. “Didn’t I promise you we could make out in a castle?”
Chuckling, I drew my hand back. “You did. And to take me on dates. Real dates with no swords or ghouls or angst.”
“Well, there you go,” he said. “As soon as we’ve saved the world from a demon invasion, it’s you, me, and Applebee’s.”
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning now. “Oh, the romance.”
His smile slowly faded. “I will see you again,” he said, serious this time. “I promise.” He moved closer to me so that his translucent legs disappeared into the bed. “Mercer, I-“
And then, just like that, be blinked out and was gone. ~ Rachel Hawkins,
1231:My grief is my castle, which like an eagle's nest is built high up on the mountain peaks among the clouds; nothing can storm it. From it I fly down into reality to seize my prey; but i do not remain down there, I bring it home with me, and this prey is a picture I weave into the tapestries of my palace. There I live as one dead. I immerse everything I have experienced in a baptism of forgetfulness unto an eternal remembrance. Everything finite and accidental is forgotten and erased. Then I sit like an old man, grey-haired and thoughtful, and explain the pictures in a voice as soft as a whisper; and at my side a child sits and listens, although he remembers everything before I tell it. ~ S ren Kierkegaard,
1232:In fact, it’s almost big enough to cross time zones. The lab is amidships and takes up nearly half the available space. In front of it and behind it there are weapons stations where two gunners can stand back to back and look out to either side of the vehicle through slit windows like the embrasures in a medieval castle. Each of these stations can be sealed off from the lab by a bulkhead door. Further aft, there’s something like an engine room. Forward, there are crew quarters, with a dozen wall-mounted cot beds and two chemical toilets, the kitchen space, and then the cockpit, which has a pedestal gun of the same calibre as the Humvee’s and about as many controls as a passenger jet. Justineau ~ M R Carey,
1233:Is that all?" asked Flambeau after a long pause. "Have we got to the dull truth at last?"

"Oh, no," said Father Brown.

As the wind died in the most distant pine woods with a long hoot as of mockery Father Brown, with an utterly impassive face, went on:

"I only suggested that because you said one could not plausibly connect snuff with clockwork or candles with bright stones. Ten false philosophies will fit the universe; ten false theories will fit Glengyle Castle. But we want the real explanation of the castle and the universe. But are there no other exhibits?"

Craven laughed, and Flambeau rose smiling to his feet and strolled down the long table.

[Ch.6] ~ G K Chesterton,
1234:Harry barely slept that night. When he awoke on Monday morning, he seriously considered for the first time ever just running away from Hogwarts. But as he looked around the Great Hall at breakfast time, and thought about what leaving the castle would mean, he knew he couldn’t do it. It was the only place he had ever been happy . . . well, he supposed he must have been happy with his parents too, but he couldn’t remember that. Somehow, the knowledge that he would rather be here and facing a dragon than back on Privet Drive with Dudley was good to know; it made him feel slightly calmer. He finished his bacon with difficulty (his throat wasn’t working too well), and as he and Hermione got up, he ~ J K Rowling,
1235:Fall Song"

Another year gone, leaving everywhere
its rich spiced residues: vines, leaves,

the uneaten fruits crumbling damply
in the shadows, unmattering back

from the particular island
of this summer, this NOW, that now is nowhere

except underfoot, moldering
in that black subterranean castle

of unobservable mysteries — roots and sealed seeds
and the wanderings of water. This

I try to remember when time's measure
painfully chafes, for instance when autumn

flares out at the last, boisterous and like us longing
to stay — how everything lives, shifting

from one bright vision to another, forever
in these momentary pastures. ~ Mary Oliver,
1236:Romance
MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.
A gray tower in a forest green
Was hers, and far on either hand
The long wash of the waves was seen,
And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,
The woven forest boughs between!
And through the silver Northern night
The sunset slowly died away,
And herds of strange deer, lily-white,
Stole forth among the branches gray;
About the coming of the light,
They fled like ghosts before the day!
I know not if the forest green
Still girdles round that castle gray;
I know not if the boughs between
The white deer vanish ere the day;
Above my Love the grass is green,
My heart is colder than the clay!
~ Andrew Lang,
1237:It is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones were made to be hewn and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best. ~ Voltaire,
1238:He held the papers up to the moonlight. There was a little smudging, there, right where the chorus was supposed to come in with a D major triad. But it wasn't so bad.
His eyes drifted from the pages to the moon, which shone clearly through his unglazed window. A bright star kept it company. A faint breeze blew, causing the thick leaves of the trees below to make shoe-like clacking noises against the castle wall. It carried with it whatever scents it had picked up on its way from the sea: sandalwood, sand, oranges, dust. Dry things, stuff of the land.
Eric looked back at his music, tried to recapture the sound and feel of the ocean that had played in his head before waking, aquamarine and sweet. ~ Liz Braswell,
1239:the final revelation comes when you look at these City-men on the train; for you realize that for them, the business of escaping is complicated by the fact that they think they are the prison. An astounding situation! Imagine a large castle on an island, with almost inescapable dungeons. The jailor has installed every device to prevent the prisoners escaping, and he has taken one final precaution: that of hypnotizing the prisoners, and then suggesting to them that they and the prison are one. When one of the prisoners awakes to the fact that he would like to be free, and suggests this to his fellow prisoners, they look at him with surprise and say: Tree from what? We are the castle.’ What a situation! ~ Colin Wilson,
1240:There’s a famous Russian proverb about this type of behavior. One day, a poor villager happens upon a magic talking fish that is ready to grant him a single wish. Overjoyed, the villager weighs his options: “Maybe a castle? Or even better—a thousand bars of gold? Why not a ship to sail the world?” As the villager is about to make his decision, the fish interrupts him to say that there is one important caveat: whatever the villager gets, his neighbor will receive two of the same. Without skipping a beat, the villager says, “In that case, please poke one of my eyes out.” The moral is simple: when it comes to money, Russians will gladly—gleefully, even—sacrifice their own success to screw their neighbor. ~ Bill Browder,
1241:You called me ‘Fluttershy.’ As in the My Little Pony, ‘Fluttershy?’”

“Oh.” He looked a little taken aback for a second. “Yeah.” He sucked in his lips, pinched them between his teeth, and then shrugged. “What can I say? You’re just like her. You care more about animals than you do your own safety. I’m gonna have to kidnap a rabbit and threaten you with bunnicide unless you come quietly back to the castle with me.”

“What?” Diana felt her eyes go wide.

“You heard me,” he said before he took another long swig and swallowing hard. He lowered the bottle and leaned up against the kitchen counter. “And you know I’m right.”

“About kidnapping a bunny?” She felt bewildered. ~ Heather Killough Walden,
1242:The Two Coffins
In yonder old cathedral
Two lovely coffins lie;
In one, the head of the state lies dead,
And a singer sleeps hard by.
Once had that King great power
And proudly ruled the land-His crown e'en now is on his brow
And his sword is in his hand.
How sweetly sleeps the singer
With calmly folded eyes,
And on the breast of the bard at rest
The harp that he sounded lies.
The castle walls are falling
And war distracts the land,
But the sword leaps not from that mildewed spot
There in that dead king's hand.
But with every grace of nature
There seems to float along-To cheer again the hearts of men
The singer's deathless song.
~ Eugene Field,
1243:Why hadn’t the Woman in Black called for Raphael? Mathilde’s idea that she’d stopped looking for him seemed out of keeping with most ghost
stories; ghosts didn’t change their behavior, did they?
Whatever the reason, Caitlyn was glad of it. Raphael was hers, and she didn’t want to share him. She hated the idea of a long-lost lover roaming
the halls of the castle, looking for him. It meant there was someone else in his life.
She was, she realized, jealous.
That’s stupid! How can I be jealous of a ghost, over a guy who might not even exist?
And yet, there was no other word for what she felt. Since the moment she’d seen Raphael riding in the valley, her heart had claimed him as her
Knight of Cups ~ Lisa Cach,
1244:Food in a castle was served in the great hall, a large room usually on an upper floor. The lord’s table was set up along one wall on a small dais, the rest of the tables were positioned in a perpendicular fashion to the lord’s dais. Lower tables were called trestle tables, and when the meals were not being eaten, these tables were taken down and stacked in designated areas. The lord, his guests and family who all sat at the lord’s table were the only ones to have chairs; everyone else sat on a bench. Breakfast was a small snack usually served after morning mass. It consisted of a hunk of bread and ale or cider for the retainers and servants. The lord, his family and guests might be served white bread with a ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
1245:There are three points of view from which a writer can be considered: he may be considered as a storyteller, as a teacher, and as an enchanter. A major writer combines these three — storyteller, teacher, enchanter — but it is the enchanter in him that predominates and makes him a major writer...The three facets of the great writer — magic, story, lesson — are prone to blend in one impression of unified and unique radiance, since the magic of art may be present in the very bones of the story, in the very marrow of thought...Then with a pleasure which is both sensual and intellectual we shall watch the artist build his castle of cards and watch the castle of cards become a castle of beautiful steel and glass. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
1246:Being a King did not interest him because the heads of Kings all too often found their way to spikes on castle walls when things went wrong. But the advisors to Kings . . . the spinners in the shadows . . . such people usually melted away like evening shadows at dawning as soon as the headsman’s axe started to fall. Flagg was a sickness, a fever looking for a cool brow to heat up. He hooded his actions just as he hooded his face. And when the great trouble came—as it always did after a span of years—Flagg always disappeared like shadows at dawn. Later, when the carnage was over and the fever had passed, when the rebuilding was complete and there was again something worth destroying, Flagg would appear once more. ~ Stephen King,
1247:Well finish your story anyway."

Where was I?"

The bubonic plague. The bulldozer was stalled by corpses."

Oh, yes. Anyway, one sleepless night I stayed up with Father while he worked. It was all we could do to find a live patient to treat. In bed after bed after bed we found dead people.

And Father started giggling," Castle continued.

He couldn't stop. He walked out into the night with his flashlight. He was still giggling. He was making the flashlight beam dance over all the dead people stacked outside. He put his hand on my head and do you know what that marvelous man said to me?" asked Castle.

Nope."

'Son,' my father said to me, 'someday this will all be yours. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1248:You won't get much with only ten men," Will said, in a reasonable tone of voice. Gundar snorted angrily.
"Ten? I've got twenty-seven men behind me!" There was an angry growl of assent from his men-although Ulf didn't join in, Gundar noticed.
This time, when the Ranger spoke, there was no trace of the pleasant, reasonable tone. Instead, the voice was hard and cold.
"You haven't reached the castle yet," Will said. "I've got twenty-three arrows in my quiver still, and a further dozen in my packsaddle. And you've got several kilometers to go-all within bowshot of the trees there. Bad shot as I am, I should be able to account for more than half your men. Then you'll be facing the garrison with just ten men. ~ John Flanagan,
1249:And what happens to daughters whose mothers betray them? They don’t become huggable like Sadie, Taiwo thinks. They don’t become giggly, adorable like Ling. They grow shells. Become hardened. They stop being girls. Though they look like girls and act like girls and flirt like girls and kiss like girls—really, they’re generals, commandos at war, riding out at first light to preempt further strikes. With an army behind them, their talents their horsemen, their brilliance and beauty and anything else they may have at their disposal dispatched into battle to capture the castle, to bring back the Honor. Of course it doesn’t work. For they burn down the village in search of the safety they lost, every time, Taiwo knows. ~ Taiye Selasi,
1250:You don’t know what I’m capable of,” said Malfoy more forcefully. “You don’t know what I’ve done!” “Oh yes, I do,” said Dumbledore mildly. “You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts. . . . So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it.” “It has been in it!” said Malfoy vehemently. “I’ve been working on it all year, and tonight —” Somewhere in the depths of the castle below Harry heard a muffled yell. Malfoy stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. “Somebody is putting up a good fight,” said Dumbledore conversationally. “But you were saying . . . yes, ~ J K Rowling,
1251:At one end of the vast C bitten from the castle a sin­gle great bastion-tower stood, almost intact, five kilometres high, and casting a kilometre-wide shadow across the rum­pled ground in front of the convoy. The walls had tumbled down around the tower, vanishing completely on one side and leaving only a ridge of fractured material barely five hundred metres high on the other. The plant-mass babilia, unique to the fastness and ubiquitous within it, coated all but the smoothest of vertical surfaces with tumescent hanging forests of lime-green, royal blue and pale, rusty orange; only the heights of scarred wall closest to the more actively venting fissures and fumaroles remained untouched by the tenacious vegetation. ~ Iain M Banks,
1252:I just can't help thinking what a real shake up it would give people if, all of a sudden, there were no new books, new plays, new histories, new poems..."

And how proud would you be when people started dying like flies?" I demanded.

They'd die more like mad dogs, I think--snarling & snapping at each other & biting their own tails."

I turned to Castle the elder. "Sir, how does a man die when he's deprived of the consolation of literature?"

In one of two ways," he said, "petrescence of the heart or atrophy of the nervous system."

Neither one very pleasant, I expect," I suggested.

No," said Castle the elder. "For the love of God, both of you, please keep writing! ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1253:When a man becomes a writer, I think he takes on a sacred obligation to produce beauty and enlightenment and comfort at top speed.” “I just can’t help thinking what a real shaking up it would give people if, all of a sudden, there were no new books, new plays, new histories, new poems… “And how proud would you be when people started dying like flies?” I demanded. “They’d die more like mad dogs, I think—snarling and snapping at each other and biting their own tails.” I turned to Castle the elder. “Sir, how does a man die when he’s deprived of the consolations of literature?” “In one of two ways,” he said, “petrescence of the heart or atrophy of the nervous system.” “Neither one very pleasant, I expect,” I suggested. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1254:She'd never seen a place so decorated so extravagantly. It was like a glittering underwater kingdom, reminding her of the tales of Atlantis that had enchanted her as a child. The walls were hung with gauzy blue and green silk draperies. A painted canvas studded with seashells gave the impression of a castle beneath the sea. Slowly she wandered around the room, inspecting the plaster sculptures of fish, scallop shells, and bare-breasted mermaids. A gaudy treasure chest filled with paste jewels was wedged beneath the central hazard table. The doorway to the next room had been converted into the hull of a sunken ship. Lengths of blue gauze and silver netting were hung overhead, making it seem as if they were under water. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1255:When a Russian cosmonaut returned from space and reported that he had not found God, C. S. Lewis responded that this was like Hamlet going into the attic of his castle looking for Shakespeare. If there is a God, he wouldn’t be another object in the universe that could be put in a lab and analyzed with empirical methods. He would relate to us the way a playwright relates to the characters in his play. We (characters) might be able to know quite a lot about the playwright, but only to the degree the author chooses to put information about himself in the play. Therefore, in no case could we “prove” God’s existence as if he were an object wholly within our universe like oxygen and hydrogen or an island in the Pacific. ~ Timothy J Keller,
1256:I’m in a sort of dream. But this feels realer than any dream I’ve ever dreamed. It’s like watching myself, like I’m on the outside, and I’m looking in. And suddenly, I’m not at the playground anymore. I’m in Wakefield Town Square, and everything is different. The world is not back to normal, no, but it’s better. The sky is bluer-than-blue and the sun is warm on my skin. Big, beautiful plants grow. I feel alive. My entire body is buzzing, warm. I feel safe. I feel untouchable. Invincible. I come to the tree house. Looking up, I see that the tree is taller, thicker, and the tree house is now a tremendously huge sort of tree castle. Rooms and rooms on top of rooms, connected—a fortress fit for a king. But who is the king? ~ Max Brallier,
1257:I sit here at ease, hardened and unfeeling-alas! Praying little, grieving little for the Church of God, burning rather in the fierce fires of my untamed flesh.It comes to this: I should be afire in the spirit; in reality I am afire in the flesh, with lust , laziness, idleness, sleepiness. It is perhaps because you have all ceased praying for me that God has turned away from me... For the last eight days i have written nothing, nor prayed nor studied, partly from self-indulgence, partl from another vexatious handicap.i really cannot stand it any longer; Pray for me , i beg you, for in my seclusion here i am submerged in sins.

Martin Luther

A writing to Melanchthon from the Wartburg Castle on July 13,1521. ~ Martin Luther,
1258:The dinner bell rings, and everyone trots off, Frederick coming in last with his taffy-colored hair and wounded eyes, bootlaces trailing. Werner washes Frederick’s mess tin for him; he shares homework answers, shoe polish, sweets from Dr. Hauptmann; they run next to each other during field exercises. A brass pin weighs lightly on each of their lapels; one hundred and fourteen hobnailed boots spark against pebbles on the trail. The castle with its towers and battlements looms below them like some misty vision of foregone glory. Werner’s blood gallops through his ventricles, his thoughts on Hauptmann’s transceiver, on solder, fuses, batteries, antennas; his boot and Frederick’s touch the ground at the exact same moment. ~ Anthony Doerr,
1259:Dear lieutenant, I think we all seduced you, deflected you from a course that might have let you live. Seeking something in the quick of us, searching to secure a kind of love with the provenance of age and land and family, you took over our premises; you presumed to the legacy that was ours, and if you did not see that such assumptions have their own ramifying repercussions, and that the stones demand their own continuity of blood, if you did not understand the gravity of their isolation, the solitude of their trapped state or the hardness of their old responsibility, still you cannot fault the castle or either one of us, or complain that you were led to your own conclusion.
I left the castle; you brought us all back. ~ Iain Banks,
1260:I am sometimes taken aback by how people can have a miserable day or get angry because they feel cheated by a bad meal, cold coffee, a social rebuff or a rude reception. We are quick to forget that just being alive is an extraordinary piece of good luck, a remote event, a chance of occurrence of monstrous proportions. Imagine a speck of dust next to a planet a billion times the size of earth. The speck of dust represents the odds in favor of your being born; the huge planet would be the odds against it. So stop sweating the small stuff. Don’t be like the ingrate who got a castle as a present and worried about the mildew in the bathroom. Stop looking at the gift horse in the mouth – remember you are a Black Swan. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb,
1261:Master Clement, how far dost thou make it to Higham-on-the-Way?" "A matter of forty miles," said the Chapman; "because, as thou wottest, if ye ride south from hence, ye shall presently bring your nose up against the big downs, and must needs climb them at once; and when ye are at the top of Bear Hill, and look south away ye shall see nought but downs on downs with never a road to call a road, and never a castle, or church, or homestead: nought but some shepherd's hut; or at the most the little house of a holy man with a little chapel thereby in some swelly of the chalk, where the water hath trickled into a pool; for otherwise the place is waterless." Therewith he took a long pull at the tankard by his side, and went on: ~ William Morris,
1262:There is also the fact that red and gold are my colors,” he went on. “They are the colors on my family’s banners and devices, worn by all Chiavari males when they ride into battle, and worn by their ladies at tournaments or other important occasions. You can imagine my surprise when a lady wearing Chiavari colors fell into my arms inside a drafty castle in England.”
“I doubt the color of my gown was the first thing you noticed,” she teased.
“No, that was not the first thing I noticed.” His voice had gone soft with the memory. The first thing he had noticed was how right she had felt in his arms, the realization that his arms had been empty until that moment when he found what belonged there, who belonged there. ~ Elizabeth Elliott,
1263:Okay you guys need the dope on the real story of the princess and the frog...So once upon a time a beautiful independent confident princess came upon a frog sitting by a pond. The frog said to the princess 'I was once a handsome prince until an evil Witch put a spell on me.'...So the smart-assed frog said 'If you will just kiss me I will turn back into a prince. And then you'll marry me move into the castle with my mother and you can cook for me and clean my clothes have my children and live happy ever after while I go rescue a damsel in distress'...Later that night the princess laughed as she sat down to dinner. 'I don't think so ' she said and dug hungrily into her plate of frog's legs. And she lived happily ever after. ~ Phyllis Curott,
1264:The Militiaman
'O warrior with the burnished arms
With bullion cord and tassel
Pray tell me of the lurid charms
Of service and the fierce alarms:
The storming of the castle,
The charge across the smoking field,
The rifles' busy rattle
What thoughts inspire the men who wield
The blade-their gallant souls how steeled
And fortified in battle.'
'Nay, man of peace, seek not to know
War's baleful fascinationThe soldier's hunger for the foe,
His dread of safety, joy to go
To court annihilation.
Though calling bugles blow not now,
Nor drums begin to beat yet,
One fear unmans me, I'll allow,
And poisons all my pleasure: How
If I should get my feet wet!'
~ Ambrose Bierce,
1265:It is demonstrable,” said he, “that things cannot be otherwise than
as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must
necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose
is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are
visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones
were made to be hewn and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a
magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be
the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork
all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not
express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best. ~ Voltaire,
1266:Like all men endowed with great mental mobility, I have an irrevocable, organic love of settledness. I abhor new ways of life and unfamiliar places. 122. The idea of travelling nauseates me. I’ve already seen what I’ve never seen. I’ve already seen what I have yet to see. The tedium of the forever new, the tedium of discovering – behind the specious differences we see in things and ideas – the unrelenting sameness of everything, the absolute similarity of a mosque and a temple and a church, the exact equivalence of a cabin and a castle, the same structural body for a king in robes and for a naked savage, the eternal concordance of life with itself, the stagnation of everything that lives just because it moves* … Landscapes ~ Fernando Pessoa,
1267:Begging your pardon, but you being out at this hour is . . . suspicious.” “I got lured, and then locked out of the castle, after being scared half to death by a walking suit of armor.” Ernie stuck his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small pad of paper, which he immediately opened before he pulled out a pen and sent her a nod. “That sounds like a case of shenanigans to be sure, Miss Plum. Now . . . tell me, what did the suit of armor look like?” “It looked like a suit of armor, of course.” “Was there anything of a distinguishing nature about it?” “It was walking across the room.” Ernie scribbled something into the notebook. “Suspicious indeed, and not something one expects to see when they’re a guest at Ravenwood.” “It ~ Jen Turano,
1268:The big system can be pretty overwhelming. We know that we can’t beat them by competing with them. What we can do is build small systems where we live and work that serve our needs as we define us and not as they ‘re defined for us. The big boys in their shining armor are up there on castle walls hurling their thunderbolts. We’re the ants patiently carrying sand a grain at a time from under the castle wall. We work from the bottom up. The knights up there don’t see the ants and don’t know what we’re doing. They’ll figure it out only when the wall begins to fall. It takes time and quiet persistence. Always remember this: They fight with money and we resist with time, and they’re going to run out of money before we run out of time ~ Utah Phillips,
1269:Perhaps most surprising of all, the deposed and imprisoned King Henry was not murdered. This had been the fate of the two Plantagenet kings who had lost their crowns before him: Edward II died while in custody at Berkeley Castle in 1327, while Richard II was killed at Pontefract in 1400, the year following his deposition. Ironically, Henry’s survival was perhaps a mark of his uniquely pitiful and ineffectual approach to kingship—for it was much harder to justify killing a man who had done nothing evil or tyrannical, but had earned his fate thanks to his dewy-eyed simplicity. Permitting Henry to remain alive was a bold decision that Edward IV would come to regret. But in 1465 it must have struck the king as a brave and magnanimous act. ~ Dan Jones,
1270:On the thirteenth day of the fifth month of the third year after the Day of the Girls, Tatiana Moskalev brings her wealth and her connections, a little less than half her army, and many of her weapons to a castle in the hills on the borders of Moldova. And there she declares a new kingdom, uniting the coastal lands between the old forests and the great inlets and thus, in effect, declaring war on four separate countries, including the Big Bear herself. She calls the new country Bessapara, after the ancient people who lived there and interpreted the sacred sayings of the priestesses on the mountaintops. The international community waits for the outcome. The consensus is that the state of Bessapara cannot hold on for long.
Pg 98 ~ Naomi Alderman,
1271:I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in whose charge her ladyship had left the castle, and the deep-toned, old-fashioned furniture of the housekeeper’s room in which they foregathered, affected me in spite of my efforts to keep myself at a matter-of-fact phase. They seemed to belong to another age, an older age, an age when things spiritual were different from this of ours, less certain; an age when omens and witches were credible, and ghosts beyond denying. Their very existence was spectral; the cut of their clothing, fashions born in dead brains. The ornaments and conveniences of the room about them were ghostly — the thoughts of vanished men, which still haunted rather than participated in the world of today. ~ E F Benson,
1272:The Landscape"

I dreamt of loving. The dream remains, but love
is no longer those lilacs and roses whose breath
filled the broad woods, where the sail of a flame
lay at the end of each arrow-straight path.

I dreamt of loving. The dream remains, but love
is no longer that storm whose white nerve sparked
the castle towers, or left the mind unrhymed,
or flared an instant, just where the road forked.

It is the star struck under my heel in the night.
It is the vvord no book on earth defines.
It is the foam on the wave, the cloud in the sky.

As they age, all things grow rigid and bright.
The streets fall nameless, and the knots untie.
Now, with this landscape, I fix; I shine. ~ Robert Desnos,
1273:Time’s running out, Voldemort’s getting nearer. Professor, I’m acting on Dumbledore’s orders, I must find what he wanted me to find! But we’ve got to get the students out while I’m searching the castle--it’s me Voldemort wants, but he won’t care about killing a few more or less, not now--” not now he knows I’m attacking Horcruxes, Harry finished the sentence in his head.
“You’re acting on Dumbledore’s orders?” she repeated with a look of dawning wonder. Then she drew herself up to her fullest height.
“We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while you search for this--this object.”
“Is that possible?”
“I think so,” said Professor McGonagall dryly, “we teachers are rather good at magic, you know. ~ J K Rowling,
1274:You remember how he used to be girl on either arm? You really don't see that guy too much anymore. Why do you think that is? He's waiting for you. I know you're dealing with stuff but you cannot ask him to wait forever! Unless of course, you're okay with him pulling away."
"What if it doesn't work out? What if it ends up like you and Javier?"
"Well at least we gave it a shot. And so it didn't work out, so what? Now, we can move on give or take the occasional booty call."
"I just don't wanna lose what we have, you know?"
"Girl please! What exactly do you have, really?"
"A friendship."
"No. What you and I have is a friendship. What you and castle have is a holding pattern. How long can you circle before the fuel runs out? ~ Richard Castle,
1275:She wondered what such a bird would be worth, because in the Castle all beasts were ascribed worth. She had seen James look at a king crown brought in by one of their Asante traders and declare that it was worth four pounds. What about the human beast? How much was he worth? Effia had known, of course, that there were people in the dungeons. People who spoke a different dialect than her, people who had been captured in tribal wars, even people who had been stolen, but she had never thought of where they went from there. She had never thought of what James must think every time he saw them. If he went into the dungeons and saw women who reminded him of her, who looked like her and smelled like her. If he came back to her haunted by what he saw. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
1276:For God’s sake let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings! How some have been deposed, some slain in war, 158 Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed, Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed – 160 All murdered; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king 162 Keeps death his court; and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; 164 Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks; 166 Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life 168 Were brass impregnable; and humored thus, 169 Comes at the last, and with a little pin 170 Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! ~ William Shakespeare,
1277:I asked Simon if he’d ever feared that all our struggles, all our suffering might be in vain. Not a priest’s question, and he shamed me by his answer, by the shining certainty of his faith. He said no, my lady, and then he told me of a cave he’d found whilst in the Holy Land. It was said to have magical powers; a man could shout and long after it had died away, it echoed back as if from the very bowels of the earth. Simon had so marveled at it that he’d never forgotten it. And that night in Hereford Castle, he said that whilst it might seem as if we were but shouting into the wind, our echoes, too, would come back in time, echoes to hearten the godly and haunt kings. He laughed then, but he believed it, my lady, and I found I believed, too. ~ Sharon Kay Penman,
1278:Once upon a time, there was a boy. He lived in a village that no longer exists, in a house that no longer exists, on the edge of a field that no longer exists, where everything was discovered, and everything was possible. A stick could be a sword, a pebble could be a diamond, a tree, a castle. Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived in a house across the field, from a girl who no longer exists. They made up a thousand games. She was queen and he was king. In the autumn light her hair shone like a crown. They collected the world in small handfuls, and when the sky grew dark, they parted with leaves in their hair.

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. ~ Nicole Krauss,
1279:Alric! Stop it!" Pickering snapped at him. "You mustn't let the men see you crying!"

Fury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. "No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have a right to see their king! They all have a right to see their king!"

Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it's me they fight!"

The prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1280:It pained her that a few hundred words in an also-ran newspaper could get her kicked out. That damned article.
And Rook.
Her sharpest agony. She had invested in this guy. Waited for this guy. Felt something for this guy that went beyond the bedroom ... or wherever else they took each other. Nikki did not give herself easily to a man, and this betrayal by Rook was why. Heat reflected on her answer at the oral boards about her greatest flaw and admitted her reply was a mask. Yes, her identification with her job was total. But her greatest flaw wasn’t overinvestment in her career. It was her reticence to be vulnerable. Unarmed as she was-literally-she had been emotionally so with Rook.
That was the gut shot that had blown clean through her soul. ~ Richard Castle,
1281:Newsflash she already has body image issues. 
It's an intrinsic part of being a woman. Every woman in the world has some part of herself that she absolutely hates. 
Her hands are too small, her feet are too big, her hair is too straight, too curly, her ears stick out, her bums too flat, her nose is too big and, you know, nothing you can say will change how we feel. 
What men don't understand is, the right clothes, the right shoes, the right makeup it just... It, it hides the flaws we think we have. 
They make us look beautiful to ourselves. 
That's what makes us look beautiful to others.

Used to be all she needed to feel beautiful was a pink tutu and a plastic tiara.

And we spend our whole lives trying to feel that way again. ~ Richard Castle,
1282:And so the German spirit, carousing in music, in wonderful creations of sound, and wonderful beauties of feeling and mood that were never pressed home to reality, has left the greater part of its gifts to decay. None of us intellectuals is at home in reality. We are strange to it and hostile.

Assiduous and busy, care-ridden and light-hearted, intelligent and yet thoughtless, these butterflies lived a life at once childlike and raffiné; independent, not to be bought by every one, finding their account in good luck and fine weather, in love with life and yet clinging to it far less than the bourgeois, always ready to follow a fairy prince to his castle, always certain, though scarcely conscious of it, that a difficult and sad end was in store for them. ~ Hermann Hesse,
1283:Castle Bravo had been built according to the “Teller-Ulam” scheme—named for its co-designers, Edward Teller and Stanislaw Ulam—which meant, unlike with the far less powerful atomic bomb, this hydrogen bomb had been designed to hold itself together for an extra hundred-millionth of a second, thereby allowing its hydrogen isotopes to fuse and create a chain reaction of nuclear energy, called fusion, producing a potentially infinite amount of power, or yield. “What this meant,” Freedman explains, was that there was “a one-in-one-million chance that, given how much hydrogen [is] in the earth’s atmosphere, when Castle Bravo exploded, it could catch the earth’s atmosphere on fire. Some scientists were extremely nervous. Some made bets about the end of the world. ~ Annie Jacobsen,
1284:After Collecting The Autumn Taxes
From my high castle I look at the town below
Where the natives of Pa cluster like a swarm of flies.
How can I govern these people and lead them aright?
I cannot even understand what they say.
But at least I am glad, now that the taxes are in,
To learn that in my province there is no discontent.
I fear its prosperity is not due to me
And was only caused by the year's abundant crops,
The papers that lie on my desk are simple and few;
My house by the moat is leisurely and still.
In the autumn rain the berries fall from the eaves;
At the evening bell the birds return to the wood.
A broken sunlight quavers over the southern porch
Where I lie on my couch abandoned of idleness.
~ Bai Juyi,
1285:The princess had accepted her fate in an effort to make the best of things, but she refused to do so any longer.
It wasn't till she was outside those walls that she'd realized the truth: the only one who could truly break her free was herself. That's why she was back. To claim what was truly hers. Not just the castle, but the province and its throne. Not just for her own happiness, but also for that of her people.
Now was the time to strike. It was why she had traveled so far, risked so much, and found strength that she hadn't known she possessed. Queen Ingrid's popularity had never been strong, but in the last few years, the kingdom had gone from indifference to downright terror. She couldn't allow her people to suffer this way any longer. It was time. ~ Jen Calonita,
1286:A Mystic And A Drunk

The Universe turns on an axis.
Let my soul circle around a table
like a beggar, like a planet
rolling in the vast, totally helpless and free.

The knight and the castle move jaggedly
about the chessboard, but they're actually
centered on the king. They circle.

If love is your center, a ring
gets put on your finger.

Something inside the moth
is made of fire.

A mystic touches the annihilating tip
of pure nothing.

A drunkard thinks peeing is absolution.
Lord, take these impurities from me.

The lord replies, First, understand
the nature of impurity. If your key is bent,
the lock will not open.

I fall silent.
King Shams has come.
Always when I close, he opens. ~ Rumi,
1287:Evie, sweetie! So glad you could make it!” Mal said, throwing her arms theatrically around the girl and giving her a giant and fake embrace. “We’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven! Want to play?” “Uh, I don’t know,” said Evie, looking around the party nervously. “It’ll be a scream,” said Mal. “Come on, you want to be my friend, don’t you?” Evie stared at Mal. “You want me to be your friend?” “Sure—why not?” Mal led her to the closet door and opened it. “But doesn’t a boy go in here with me?” Evie asked as Mal shoved her inside the storage room. For someone castle-schooled, Evie sure knew her kissing games. “Did I say Seven Minutes in Heaven? No, you’re playing Seven Minutes in Hell!” Mal cackled; she couldn’t help it. This was going to be so much fun. The ~ Melissa de la Cruz,
1288:What are the tales?" Adrienne asked wryly.
"His exploits are legendary!"
"His conquests are legion. 'Tis rumored he's traveled the world accompanied by only the most beautiful lasses."
"'Tis said there isna a comely lass in all of Scotia he hasna tumbled"
"in England, too!"
"and he canna recall any of their names."
"He is said to have godlike beauty, and a practiced hand in the fine art of seduction."
"He is fabulously wealthy and rumors say his castle is luxurious beyond compare."
Adrienne blinked. "Wonderful. A materialistic, unfaithfill, beautiful playboy of a self-indulged, inconsiderate man with a bad memory. And he's all mine. Dear sweet God, what have I done to deserve this?" she wondered aloud. Twice, she brooded privately. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
1289:Belle's mind populated the castle with royalty from all the eras she could imagine:
Recent ones with great powdered wigs and hats in the shapes of fanciful things like ships, great skirts that billowed out, ugly garish makeup on the faces of those who gossiped behind embroidered silk fans.
Renaissance rulers with thick curled collars and poison rings, intellect and conspiracy at every dinner.
Ancient kings and queens in long, heavy dresses and cloaks, wise looks on their faces and solid gold crowns on their heads, innocents in a world they believed to possess unicorns and dragons, and maps whose seas ran off at the edges, beyond where the tygres were.
Of course, maybe around here there were dragons and unicorns. Who knew? They had talking teacups. ~ Liz Braswell,
1290:Philippa Somerville was annoyed. To her friends the Nixons, who owned Liddel Keep, and with whom Kate had deposited her for one night, she had given an accurate description of Sir William Scott of Kincurd, his height, his skill, his status, and his general suitability as an escort for Philippa Somerville from Liddesdale to Midculter Castle. And the said William Scott had not turned up. She fumed all the morning of that fine first day of May, and by afternoon was driven to revealing her general dissatisfaction with Scotland, the boring nature of Joleta, her extreme dislike of one of the Crawfords and the variable and unreliable nature of the said William Scott. She agreed that the Dowager Lady Culter was adorable, and Mariotta nice, and that she liked the baby. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
1291:For God’s sake let us sit upon the ground  155
And tell sad stories of the death of kings,
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed—
All murdered. For within the hollow crown  160
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps death his court, and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be feared and kill with looks,  165
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable, and humoured thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall—and farewell king. ~ William Shakespeare,
1292:Oh, I see how it is. Baby finds her Johnny Castle, and all of a sudden, she forgets about the small matter of her BFF?”
There was only one person in the world who could deliver that line with a straight face. Until I’d heard his voice, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed it.
“Devon!”
Chase stiffened as Dev’s name left my lips, and Devon beamed at me, doing a good impression of someone who hadn’t been bristling a moment before, when I’d buried myself in Chase’s arms.
“In the flesh,” Devon said. “When you call, Bronwyn, I answer. Always.” It was a testament to the gravity of the moment that he didn’t treat everyone present to an impromptu performance of “Ain’t No Mountain.” Lest Devon decide the situation did call for some tunes, I pushed on. ~ Jennifer Lynn Barnes,
1293:But the argument he lays out before the jury is as clear as a row of Lombardy poplars. In silence, he walks his lifelong partner through old and central principles of jurisprudence, one syllable at a time. Stand your ground. The castle doctrine. Self-help. If you could save yourself, your wife, your child, or even a stranger by burning something down, the law allows you. If someone breaks into your home and starts destroying it, you may stop them however you need to. His few syllables are mangled and worthless. She shakes her head. “I can’t get you, Ray. Say it some other way.” He can find no way to say what so badly needs saying. Our home has been broken into. Our lives are being endangered. The law allows for all necessary force against unlawful and imminent harm. ~ Richard Powers,
1294:I don't know where you get off telling everyone what to do. Did I miss the part where you were crowned top turd? I don't want to play the wicked consort of Eric the Evil. Last time I looked, there wasn't a wicked consort clause in my contract." Donna turned to Eric as he stopped by her side. "I can't believe he thinks he can harass me like he does the rest of the poor wretches who work here." She glared at Holgarth. "Why not rent a wig and you can be the wicked consort?"

As one of the castle's poor wretches, Eric didn't offer anything to the conversation because he was too busy picturing Holgarth in a wig. And from there, he went on to imagine Donna in her wicked consort costume - short on cloth with lots of bare skin showing. Things were looking up. ~ Nina Bangs,
1295:So. Avelaval. My leaves have drifted from me. All. But one clings still. I'll bear it on me. To remind me of. Lff! So soft this morning, ours. Yes. Carry me along, taddy, like you done through the toy fair! If I seen him bearing down on me now under whitespread wings like he'd come from Arkangels, I sink I'd die down over his feet, humbly dumbly, only to washup. Yes, tid. There's where. First. We pass through grass behush the bush to. Whish! A gull. Gulls. Far calls. Coming, far! End here. Us then. Finn, again! Take. Bussoftlhee, mememormee! Till thousendsthee. Lps. The keys to. Given! A way a lone a last a loved a long the—riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. ~ James Joyce,
1296:Up here,” said Harry, and he crossed the common room and led the way through the door to the boys’ staircase. Their dormitory was, as Harry had hoped, empty. He flung open his trunk and began to rummage in it, while Ron watched impatiently. “Harry . . .” “Malfoy’s using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. He was arguing with Crabbe just now. I want to know — aha.” He had found it, a folded square of apparently blank parchment, which he now smoothed out and tapped with the tip of his wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good . . . or Malfoy is anyway.” At once, the Marauder’s Map appeared on the parchment’s surface. Here was a detailed plan of every one of the castle’s floors and, moving around it, the tiny, labeled black dots that signified each of the castle’s occupants. ~ J K Rowling,
1297:For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!

Act 3, Scene 2 ~ William Shakespeare,
1298:Horses At Midnight Without A Moon"

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
We know the horses are there in the dark
meadow because we can smell them,
can hear them breathing.
Our spirit persists like a man struggling
through the frozen valley
who suddenly smells flowers
and realizes the snow is melting
out of sight on top of the mountain,
knows that spring has begun. ~ Jack Gilbert,
1299:The Bonny Earl Of Murray
YE Highlands and ye Lawlands,
O where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl of Murray,
And hae laid him on the green.
Now wae be to thee, Huntley!
And whairfore did ye sae!
I bade you bring him wi' you,
But forbade you him to slay.
He was a braw gallant,
And he rid at the ring;
Ana the bonny Earl of Murray,
O he might hae been a king!
He was a braw gallant,
And he play'd at the ba';
And the bonny Earl of Murray
Was the flower amang them a'!
He was a braw gallant,
And he play'd at the gluve;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
O he was the Queen's luve!
O lang will his Lady
Look owre the Castle Downe,
Ere she see the Earl of Murray
Come sounding through the town!
~ Anonymous,
1300:Horses at Midnight Without a Moon”

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there’s music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
We know the horses are there in the dark
meadow because we can smell them,
can hear them breathing.
Our spirit persists like a man struggling
through the frozen valley
who suddenly smells flowers
and realizes the snow is melting
out of sight on top of the mountain,
knows that spring has begun. ~ Jack Gilbert,
1301:I planned a mystical order that should buy or hire the castle, and keep it as a place where its members could retire for a while for contemplation, and where we might establish mysteries like those of Eleusis or Samothrace. ... I had an unshakeable conviction that invisible gates would open, as they opened for Blake, as they opened for Swedenborg, as they opened for Boehme, and that this philosophy would find its manuals of devotion in all imaginative literature..
This idea of Yeats’s is persistently an Outsider-ideal, persistent even in unromantic Outsiders: solitude, retreat, the attempt to order a small corner of the ‘devil-ridden chaos’ to one’s own satisfaction. A Marxist critic would snap: Escapism; and no doubt he would not be entirely wrong, but let us look closer. ~ Colin Wilson,
1302:What I saw was the Count’s head coming out from the window. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had so many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over that dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow; but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. ~ Bram Stoker,
1303:Since I met you,' he said, 'I've had no eyes and no thought for any other girl. When I was away nothing mattered about my coming back but this. If there was one thing I was sure of, it wasn't what I'd been taught by anyone else to believe, not what I learned from other people was the truth, but the truth that I felt in myself- about you.'

'Don't say any more.' She had gone very white. But for once her frailness did not stop him. It had to come out now.

'It isn't very pretty to have been made a fool of by one's own feelings,' he said. 'To take childish promises and build a-a castle out of them. And yet- even now sometimes I can't believe that all the things we said to each other were so trivial or so immature. Are you sure you felt so little for me as you pretend? ~ Winston Graham,
1304:The Parents
We are your Grand-Parents, the Grown-Ups!
Covered with the cold sweats of the moon and the greensward.
Our dry wines had heart in them!
In the sunshine where there is no deception,
what does man need? To drink.
Myself: To die among barbarous rivers.
We re your Grand-Parents of the fields.
The water lies at the foot of the willows:
see the flow of the moat round the damp castle.
Let us go down to our storerooms;
afterwards, cider or milk.
Myself: To go where the cows drink.
We are your Grand-Parents; here,
take some of the liqueurs in our cupboards;
Tea and Coffee, so rare, sing in our kettles.
Look at the pictures, the flowers.
We are back from the cemetery.
Myself: Ah! To drink all urns dry!
~ Arthur Rimbaud,
1305:She took her father’s old rooms, throwing out everything that had belonged to the dead Danesti. Some of it might have been left over from her father. She did not care either way. Daciana took over after Lada had cleared the rooms, securing enough furnishings for them to feel livable.

“Are you sure you do not want curtains?” she asked, hands on her hips, her belly jutting out.

Lada stared thoughtfully at the empty space above the narrow window. “My brother and I once used a curtain rod to push an assassin off a balcony. Maybe we should add them.”

“Well, I thought they might be pretty. But, certainly, they can double as weapons. You are very practical.”

Lada shook her head. “I hate this castle and every room in it. I do not care what it looks like. ~ Kiersten White,
1306:High up, crowning the grassy summit of a swelling mound whose sides are wooded near the base with the gnarled trees of the primeval forest, stands the old chateau of my ancestors. For centuries its lofty battlements have frowned down upon the wild and rugged countryside about, serving as a home and stronghold for the proud house whose honoured line is older even than the moss-grown castle walls. These ancient turrets, stained by the storms of generations and crumbling under the slow yet mighty pressure of time, formed in the ages of feudalism one of the most dreaded and formidable fortresses in all France. From its machicolated parapets and mounted battlements Barons, Counts, and even Kings had been defied, yet never had its spacious halls resounded to the footsteps of the invader. ~ H P Lovecraft,
1307:We need to think of somewhere else to hide you, somewhere Silas would never discover, and . . .” She stopped talking, her eyes began to gleam, and then she beamed a bright smile Archibald’s way. “We’ll take her to Ravenwood.” Archibald immediately began smiling as well. “That’s an excellent idea.” Looking from one smiling face to the other, Lucetta frowned. “Where, pray tell, is Ravenwood, or more importantly . . . what is Ravenwood, and who owns it?” If anything, Abigail’s smile turned brighter. “Ravenwood is a castle, located in Tarrytown, along the Hudson River, which means it’s not far from the city. The castle is well guarded, comes with its very own moat, and . . . the owner of this castle can be counted on to be discreet, especially since he just happens to be my . . . grandson. ~ Jen Turano,
1308:It wasna a man,’ said Andrew Kerr broadly. ‘T’was my aunty. I tellt ye. I’m no risking cauld steel in ma wame for a pittance, unless all that’s mine is well lookit after—’ ‘An old lady,’ said Lord Grey with forbearance, ‘in curling papers and a palatial absence of teeth?’ ‘My aunt Lizzie!’ said Andrew Kerr. ‘She has just,’ said Lord Grey austerely, ‘seriously injured one of my men.’ ‘How?’ The old savage looked interested. ‘From an upper window. The castle was burning, and he was climbing a ladder to offer the lady her freedom. She cracked his head with a chamberpot,’ said Lord Grey distastefully, ‘and retired crying that she would have no need of a jurden in Heaven, as the good Lord had no doubt thought of more convenient methods after the seventh day, when He had had a good rest. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
1309:Nine out of ten humans killed? And you're not bothered."
A look of mysterious thoughtfulness crossed his face. "A virus can be useful to a species by thinning it out," he said.
A scream cut the air. It sounded nonhuman.
He took his eyes off the water and looked around. "Hear that pheasant? That's what I like about the Bighorn River," he said.
"Do you find viruses beautiful?"
"Oh, yeah," he said softly. "Isn't it true that if you stare into the eyes of a cobra, the fear has another side to it? The fear is lessened as you begin to see the essence of the beauty. Looking at Ebola under an electron microscope is like looking at a gorgeously wrought ice castle. The thing is so cold. So totally pure." He laid a perfect cast on the water, and eddies took the fly down. (92) ~ Richard Preston,
1310:I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may be amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through wearing years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may. ~ Bram Stoker,
1311:“Not only is it impossible to compare our memories with the events of which they are the memories; but because the present is, as it were, always slipping away from us into the past we cannot even compare our memories with what purport to be the effects of the original events (or, more properly, with our inferences from those ‘effects’). For what I am comparing must always be, not the memory itself but my memory of that memory. Suppose that today I remember building, a short while ago, a castle in the sand. Tomorrow I go to the beach and there it is. I say ‘Yes just as I remembered it yesterday’. But how do I then know it is just as I remembered it yesterday? The sight of the sand castle itself may well influence my memory of my previous remembering” (Brian Smith, 1966, p.27, italics original) ~ Ibid, p.38,
1312:Whenever in my dreams I see the dead, they always appear silent, bothered, strangely depressed, quite unlike their dear, bright selves. I am aware of them, without any astonishment, in surroundings they never visited during their earthly existence, in the house of some friend of mine they never knew. They sit apart, frowning at the floor, as if death were a dark taint, a shameful family secret. It is certainly not then - not in dreams - but when one is wide awake, at moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness, that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits, from the mast, from the past and its castle tower. And although nothing much can be seen through the mist, there is somehow the blissful feeling that one is looking in the right direction. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
1313:sweeping aside the opposition of the Roman Catholic Church in a resounding victory Saturday for the gay rights movement and placing the country at the vanguard of social change. With the final ballots counted, the vote was 62 percent in favor of legalizing same-sex marriage, and 38 percent opposed. The turnout was large — more than 60 percent of the 3.2 million people eligible cast ballots, and only one district voted the measure down. Government officials, advocates, and even those who had argued against the change said the outcome was a solid endorsement of the constitutional amendment. Cheers broke out among the crowd of supporters who had gathered in the courtyard of Dublin Castle when Returning Officer Riona Ni Fhlanghaile announced around 7 p.m. that the ballot had passed 1,201,607 votes to 734,300. ~ Anonymous,
1314:After a few moments, her eyes became as glossy as his and she also spoke in complete nonsense. “Who are you?” Mother Goose asked the caterpillar. “What I am,” he said. “Where are you?” she said. “Here with you,” the caterpillar said. “And if this were the Castle of Hearts?” Mother Goose asked. “We’d be there,” he said. “But where?” she asked. “In the castle,” he said. “Ah, so there would be here,” she said, and they nodded together. “Here would be what’s left.” The caterpillar nodded. “Am I what’s left?” she asked. “You’re what’s right, of course.” “But what’s right is wrong.” “And what’s left is right.” “I understand completely,” Mother Goose said. “Thank you so much, Mr. Caterpillar.” The others stared at them absolutely dumbfounded. Mother Goose hopped down from the mushroom and moseyed back to them. ~ Chris Colfer,
1315:The New York Times, baffled by Delaware’s obstinacy, tried to argue the state into change in an 1867 editorial. If it had previously existed in [the convicted person’s] bosom a spark of self-respect this exposure to public shame utterly extinguishes it. Without the hope that springs eternal in the human breast, without some desire to reform and become a good citizen, and the feeling that such a thing is possible, no criminal can ever return to honorable courses. The boy of eighteen who is whipped at New Castle [a Delaware whipping post] for larceny is in nine cases out of ten ruined. With his self-respect destroyed and the taunt and sneer of public disgrace branded upon his forehead, he feels himself lost and abandoned by his fellows. —QUOTED IN ROBERT GRAHAM CALDWELL, Red Hannah: Delaware’s Whipping Post ~ Jon Ronson,
1316:Dinner, served between 10:00 A.M. and noon, was the main meal of the day. A trumpeter or crier would announce the meal at a castle. When a guest entered, the ladies would curtsey and take their seats. The lord might give the guest a light, quick kiss before showing the guest to his seat at the lord’s table. Attendants or pages would bring a washbowl forward and pour water for the guest and lord out of an aquanmanile (an elaborate pitcher). The rest of the diners would wash their hands in a lavabo-type dispenser in the great hall and dry their hands on a long towel. They would then take their seats at the lower trestle tables on benches that often served as their beds at night. The diners were served in order: first the visiting clergy, the visiting nobles, the lord and his family, then the retainers. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
1317:The Splendor Falls
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes dying, dying, dying.
O love they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field, or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
1318:In 1701, a braggadocian teenager named Johann Friedrich Böttger, ecstatic at the crowd he’d rallied with a few white lies, pulled out two silver coins for a magic show. After he waved his hands and performed chemical voodoo on them, the silver pieces “disappeared,” and a single gold piece materialized in their place. It was the most convincing display of alchemy the locals had ever seen. Böttger thought his reputation was set, and unfortunately it was. Rumors about Böttger inevitably reached the king of Poland, Augustus the Strong, who arrested the young alchemist and locked him, Rumpelstiltskin-like, in a castle to spin gold for the king’s realm. Obviously, Böttger couldn’t deliver on this demand, and after a few futile experiments, this harmless liar, still quite young, found himself a candidate for hanging. ~ Sam Kean,
1319:In fiction, the story ends when Prince Charming whisks Cinderella away to his castle. But there’s a reason why the poor girl who wins herself a prince is usually an orphan. Because if she wasn’t… “Darling,” Charming would say in the scene after the end, “you know I love you, doll. But we have to talk about your parents. I’m thinking I should buy them a cottage, maybe something high up in the mountains, yeah? Don’t worry. You can always call. You can even visit them when I’m busy with my affairs of state.” Even with Cinderella’s essentially family-less status, the story always ends before the painful, embarrassing scenes that come a few years in. “Darling, I never meant to fall in love with Snow White. I swear it. But she was raised in a castle as a princess, you know? She gets me in a way you never will. ~ Courtney Milan,
1320:Blow, Bugle, Blow
THE splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
1321:Home
The road to laughter beckons me,
The road to all that's best;
The home road where I nightly see
The castle of my rest;
The path where all is fine and fair,
And little children run,
For love and joy are waiting there
As soon as day is done.
There is no rich reward of fame
That can compare with this:
At home I wear an honest name,
My lips are fit to kiss.
At home I'm always brave and strong,
And with the setting sun
They find no trace of shame or wrong
In anything I've done.
There shine the eyes that only see
The good I've tried to do;
They think me what I'd like to be;
They know that I am true.
And whether I have lost my fight
Or whether I have won,
I find a faith that I've been right
As soon as day is done.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
1322:Due to Jade's fortresslike manner, which, like any well-built castle, made access challenging, girls found her existence not only threatening but flat-out wrong. Although Bartelby Athletic Center featured the latest advertising campaign of Ms. Sturd's three member Benevolent Body-Image Club (laminated Vogue and Maxim covers above captions, “You Can't Have Thighs Like This and Still Walk" and "All Airbrushing"), Jade would only have to swan by, munching on a Snickers to reveal a disturbing truth: You could have thighs like that and still walk. She emphasized what few wanted to accept, that some people did win Trivial Pursuit: The Deity Looks Edition, and there wasn't a thing you could do about it, except come to terms with the fact that you'd only played Trivial Pursuit: John Doe Genes and come away with three pie pieces. ~ Marisha Pessl,
1323:On our way to the Rock or one or another of our various woodland hideouts, my buddies and I frequently passed The Bark, and we tended to pause there for long minutes and stare at the place, as if it were an evil castle where a great treasure was stored. Once in a while we’d see gentlemen emerge (after, we knew, a bout of drinking and dancing inside); we’d see some tattooed fellow with a cigar in his teeth, and with what the Sunday school crowd called a “floozy” on his arm; watch the couple straddle a big Harley-Davidson and go roaring out of the red clay parking lot, enveloped in an oxygen of freedom about whose perils and rewards we could scarcely guess. At those moments, all I wanted was to quickly become old enough to drink beer, dance, get tattooed, smoke cigars, ride motorcycles, and have a floozy of my own on my arm. ~ Tom Robbins,
1324:The feeding of the Muse then, which we have spent most of our time on here, seem to me to be the continual running after loves, the checking of these loves against one's present and future needs, the moving on from simple textures to more complex ones, from naive ones to more informed ones, from nonintellectual to intellectual ones. Nothing is ever lost. If you have moved over vast territories and dared to love silly things, you will have learned even from the most primitive items collected and out aside in your life. From an ever-roaming curiosity in all the arts, from bad radio to good theatre, from nursery rhyme to symphony, from jungle compound to Kafka's Castle, there is basic excellence to be winnowed out, truths found, kept, savored, and used on some later day. To be a child of one's time is to do all these things. ~ Ray Bradbury,
1325:Bekka treated her role has Frankenstein's bride more like an audition to be Brett's bride. Every part of her body had been colored bright kelly green - even parts that her mother had stressed were 'not to be seen by anyone except God and the inside of a toilet bowl.' Instead of wearing a wig, Bekka had teased and then shellacked her own hair into a windblown cone and she'd used female-mustache bleach to create white streaks. Her seams, made of real suture thread, had been attached to her neck and wrists with clear double-sided costume tape because drawing them on with kohl would not have been 'honoring the character.' Her Costume Castle dress had been exchanged for something 'more authentic' from the Bridal Barn. If Brett didn't see his future in her heavily black-shadowed eyes tonight, he never would. Or so she believed. ~ Lisi Harrison,
1326:The other thing to remember, of course, is that most people get no help at all. I sure didn't, oh, no: it was just me and Castle, charging, desperate, through the country darkness, and that's how it is for most people who dare to run - no help from no Airlines, no help from no one. They just go, man, after years of planning or in the heat of a sudden moment they go, hurl their skinny bodies over a cyclone fence or purge themselves into a moat, break free of a chain line or a guard's hard grip and run, brother, run, sister, run along back roads and through forests. No planes and no cars or trucks, either. Just brave souls darting across open fields and wading in and out of rivers and stumbling along deer paths through dark woods. Find the star and follow it, as runners have done all the way back to the days of Old Slavery. ~ Ben H Winters,
1327:In the castle of Koraida was found a great quantity of pikes, lances, cuirasses, and other armor ; and its lands were covered with flocks and herds and camels. In dividing the spoil each foot-soldier had one lot, each horseman three ; two for his horse, and one for himself. A fifth part of the whole was set apart for the prophet. The most precious prize in the eyes of Mahomet was Rihana, daughter of Simeon, a wealthy and powerful Jew ; and the most beautiful female of her tribe. He took her to himself, and, having converted her to the faith, added her to the number of his wives. But, though thus susceptible of the charms of the Israelitish women, Mahomet became more and more vindictive in his hatred of the men ; no longer putting faith in their covenants, and suspecting them of the most insidious attempts upon his life. ~ Washington Irving,
1328:Beyond the bend in the road
There may be a well, and there may be a castle,
And there may be just more road.
I don’t know and don’t ask.
As long as I’m on the road that’s before the bend
I look only at the road before the bend,
Because the road before the bend is all I can see.
It would do me no good to look anywhere else
Or at what I can’t see.
Let’s pay attention only to where we are.
There’s enough beauty in being here and not somewhere else.
If there are people beyond the bend in the road,
Let them worry about what’s beyond the bend in the road.
That, for them, is the road.
If we’re to arrive there, when we arrive there we’ll know.
For now we know only that we’re not there.
Here there’s just the road before the bend, and before the bend
There’s the road without any bend. ~ Fernando Pessoa,
1329:We have to determine Ivo’s purpose.”
Kaderin said, “Myst just escaped his dungeon five years ago. He could want her back.”
“All this to recapture her?” Annika asked. Myst the Coveted, considered the most beautiful Valkyrie, had been under his power. She’d escaped when the vampire rebels took his castle. That situation always enraged Annika. Indiscretions between Myst and Wroth, a rebel general, had occurred.
Until two days ago, Annika had believed Myst had put that vampire and the entire disgusting situation behind her. Yet everyone had heard Myst’s heart speed up at the mere mention of vampires in the New World. She’d checked her flame-red hair again and again before joining a group setting out to hunt them.
No, Myst hadn’t moved on from the general. Had Ivo been unable to forget his stunning captive? ~ Kresley Cole,
1330:Don’t look down,’ Perabo warned them when they almost reached the top and the view from the archways became imposing.

Froi sensed Perabo was instructing himself more than the others.

‘You obviously haven’t been imprisoned on the roof of a castle in the Citavita, Perabo,’ Lirah said.

‘Or hung upside down over a balconette staring down into the gravina, waiting to die,’ Gargarin added.

‘Nothing worse than being chained to the balconette with your head facing down over that abyss,’ Arjuro joined in, not one to be outdone in the misery stakes.

‘Try balancing on a piece of granite between the godshouse and the palace with nothing beneath you but air,’ Froi said.

Perabo stopped and took a deep breath and looked as if he was going to be sick.

‘Don’t look down, Perabo,’ Froi advised. ~ Melina Marchetta,
1331:In my opinion, the best time to be alive is always right now. People are aways whining about how they were born in the wrong century, but they really haven't thought things through. They picture the old castle they wish they could live in, but they don't think about the drafts in the winter or the pitch darkness at night, or all the spiders and the lice. They can't imagine the everyday pain of a life without movies or recorded music or... or... Interet videos about cats. And don't even get me started on women who idealize the past. Do you have any idea what it was like to be a woman even a hundred years ago? Horrible! And a hundred years before that, the situation practically defies description. We might as well have been slaves. Trussed up in hoop skirts and corsets, married off like racehorses. Good riddance to history, I say! ~ Tommy Wallach,
1332:This isn’t about the Ravens. This is about you. This is about everything it took you to get to this point, everything it cost you, and everyone who laughed when you dared to dream of something big and bright. You’re here tonight because you refused to give up and refused to give in. You’re here where they all said you’d never be, and no one can say you haven’t earned the right to play this game.
“All eyes are on you. It’s time to show them what you’re made of. There’s no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is your night. This is your game. This is your moment. Seize it with everything you’ve got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don’t know how to die quietly. Win because you don’t know how to lose. This king’s ruled long enough—it’s time to tear his castle down. ~ Nora Sakavic,
1333:Beyond the bend in the road
There may be a well, and there may be a castle,
And there may be just more road.
I don’t know and don’t ask.
As long as I’m on the road that’s before the bend
I look only at the road before the bend,
Because the road before the bend is all I can see.
It would do me no good to look anywhere else
Or at what I can’t see.
Let’s pay attention only to where we are.
There’s only enough beauty in being here and not somewhere else.
If there are people beyond the bend in the road,
Let them worry about what’s beyond the bend in the road.
That, for them, is the road.
If we’re to arrive there, when we arrive there we’ll know.
For now we know only that we’re not there.
Here there’s just the road before the bend, and before the bend
There’s the road without any bend. ~ Fernando Pessoa,
1334:The small island of Bogoslof, since it was first observed in 1796, has altered its shape and position several times and has even disappeared completely, only to emerge again. The original island was a mass of black rock, sculptured into fantastic, tower-like shapes. Explorers and sealers coming upon it in the fog were reminded of a castle and named it Castle Rock. At the present time there remain only one or two pinnacles of the castle, a long spit of black rocks where sea lions haul out, and a cluster of higher rocks resounding with the cries of thousands of sea birds. Each time the parent volcano erupts, as it has done at least half a dozen times since men have been observing it, new masses of steaming rocks emerge from the heated waters, some to reach heights of several hundred feet before they are destroyed in fresh explosions. ~ Rachel Carson,
1335:We shall not lie on our backs at the Red Castle and watch the vultures wheeling over the valley where they killed the grandson of Genghiz. We will not read Babur's memoirs in his garden at Istalif and see the blind man smelling his way around the rose bushes. Or sit in the Peace of Islam with the beggars of Gazar Gagh. We will not stand on the Buddha's head at Bamiyan, upright in his niche like a whale in a dry-dock. We will not sleep in the nomad tent, or scale the Minaret of Jam. And we shall lose the tastes - the hot, coarse, bitter bread; the green tea flavoured with cardamoms; the grapes we cooled in the snow-melt; and the nuts and dried mulberries we munched for altitude sickness. Nor shall we get back the smell of the beanfields, the sweet, resinous smell of deodar wood burning, or the whiff of a snow leopard at 14,000 feet. ~ Bruce Chatwin,
1336:All murder'd-for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence; throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me I am a king? ~ William Shakespeare,
1337:Very quietly, James slipped out of bed and shrugged into his bathrobe. The stone floor was cool under his feet as he stood and listened, tilting his head. He turned slowly, and as he looked toward the door, the figure there moved. He hadn’t seen it appear, it was simply there, floating, where a moment before there had been darkness. James startled and backed into his bed, almost falling backwards onto it. Then he recognized the ghostly shape. It was the same wispy, white figure he’d seen chase the interloper off the school grounds, the ghostly shape that had come to look like a young man as it came back to the castle. In the darkness of the doorway, the figure seemed much brighter than it had appeared in the morning sunlight. It was wispy and shifting, with only the barest suggestion of its human shape. It spoke again without moving. ~ G Norman Lippert,
1338:* He also had every Masters of the Universe action figure including Rattlor and Two Bad and Zoar the fighting falcon, however—and this is very important—he did not have Castle Grayskull. So one time he and his friends told me I couldn’t play with them because I was a girl and Masters of the Universe were for boys and I went home crying and told my parents, and even though money was tight, even though they weren’t fans of Barbie-type plastic toys, even though they believed in solving problems with logic and discussion (“Use your head,” they’d say, “your words”), we went straight to Kmart and bought Teela and Evil-Lyn and the Sorceress. (Where are their pants? I wondered. Aren’t they cold?) And—the icing on my six-year-old fuck you cake—that ginormous plastic castle. I was hot shit on the block, I tell you what. Know what else? I shared. ~ Megan Stielstra,
1339:Pushing to his feet in an effort to avoid some of the water, Bram gave his wet and distinctly smelly dog a pat before he straightened, his breath becoming lodged in his throat when Miss Plum began walking toward him. Regret settled in as the thought struck him that there was really no way to avoid finally making her acquaintance even while smelling much like his dog. Summoning up a smile, he was about to offer her a greeting when a trace of smoke coming from one of the castle towers captured his attention. Knowing full well there was only one reasonable explanation for the smoke, he stepped toward Miss Plum just as a yell split the air. “Watch out below.” As the roar of a cannon sounded, Bram did the only thing that sprang to mind. He yanked Miss Plum close to him, locked his arms around her slender body, and . . . jumped back into the moat. ~ Jen Turano,
1340:And while he waited in the castle court,
The voice of Enid, Yniol's daughter, rang
Clear through the open casement of the hall,
Singing; and as the sweet voice of a bird,
Heard by the lander in a lonely isle,
Moves him to think what kind of bird it is
That sings so delicately clear, and make
Conjecture of the plumage and the form;
So the sweet voice of Enid moved Geraint;
And made him like a man abroad at morn
When first the liquid note beloved of men
Comes flying over many a windy wave
To Britain, and in April suddenly
Breaks from a coppice gemmed with green and red,
And he suspends his converse with a friend,
Or it may be the labour of his hands,
To think or say, 'There is the nightingale;'
So fared it with Geraint, who thought and said,
'Here, by God's grace, is the one voice for me. ~ Alfred Tennyson,
1341:Perhaps there was a secret door down low in the wall, a door only large enough for a child. If I stepped through that door, I would be in another world, in fairyland perhaps. It would be warm and bright there, and I would have a magical wand to protect myself. I'd ride on the back of a dragonfly, swooping through the forest. I'd battle dragons and talk to birds and have all kinds of grand adventures.
Later, I found that small door into fairyland could be conjured any time I needed it. The world beyond the door was different every time. Sometimes, I found a little stone house in the woods where I could live with just Nanette and my sister, Marie, and a tabby cat who purred by the fire. Sometimes, I lived in a castle in the air with a handsome prince who loved me. Other times, I was the prince myself, with a golden sword and a white charger. ~ Kate Forsyth,
1342:Tearing a piece of bread off the loaf, Briec wandered over to the partially open Great Hall doors and looked out into the courtyard. It was extremely early and things were just beginning to stir as the two suns rose. But Briec saw them easy enough. Gods, how could he miss them standing there, saying nothing—and staring at the castle.
Briec slammed the doors shut.
“Briec?” Fearghus asked as he walked up behind him. “What’s going on?”
“Where the hell is that idiot?”
“Gwenvael?”
“No.”
“Dad?”
“No. The big blue idiot.”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“The Mì-runach are outside.”
“So. They’re probably looking for the big blue idiot.”
“Not the three he brought with him. All of the Mì-runach. They’re standing in our courtyard . . . waiting.”
Fearghus nodded. “All right. We’ll kill all the females first and then kill ourselves. ~ G A Aiken,
1343:Himmler felt threatened by the ever increasing influence of Maria Orsic, and on two occasions told Adolf Hitler that she is not to be trusted because she is unstable, and she has close ties to the Jews. Himmler also mentioned the name of Princess Stephanie von Hohenlohe. Little did he know that Princess Stephanie was a close friend to Hitler who showered her with gifts.  In fact, Hitler overlooked her Jewish roots, and gave her a castle in Austria as token of his admiration for her beauty and her services to the Reich as a spy extraordinaire. On Orsic, Hitler simply said: We need her for the time being but keep an eye on her…” and he added, “I don’t trust secret societies…” Himmler, SS General Jakob Sporrenberg, and SS General Hans Kammler kept Maria Orsic in isolation, and prevented her from having access to Adolf Hitler. ~ Jean Maximillien De La Croix de Lafayette,
1344:Here are your choices, as I see them. First, you could go to Hampshire in a cloud of social scorn, and content yourself with the knowledge that at least you didn’t get trapped into a loveless marriage. Or you could marry a man who wants you beyond anything, and live like a queen.” He paused. “And don’t forget the country house and carriage.” Poppy could not contain a smile. “Bribery again.” “I’ll throw in the castle and tiara,” Harry said ruthlessly. “Gowns, furs, a yacht—” “Hush,” Poppy whispered, and touched his lips gently with her fingers, not knowing how else to make him stop. She took a deep breath, hardly able to believe what she was about to say. “I’ll settle for a betrothal ring. A small, simple one.” Harry stared at her as if he were afraid to trust his own ears. “Will you?” “Yes,” Poppy said, her voice a bit suffocated. “Yes, I will marry you. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1345:They were relaxing at the top of a waterfall, in a small, still pool where the mountain waters hit an upward slope of folded granite. It was sort of a rounded bathtub, carved out of the rock throughout the centuries by the rushing river, a river so hidden that it was without a name. Just below were the falls, about a 30-foot drop into another, much larger pool of clearest water that was gathered for a respite, a compromise in the river's relentless schedule downward, between split-level decks of flat rock. Further on, the river reanimated and released into a sharp ravine, pulling westward, down through the rugged mountains and faceless forest--the Black Hills National Forest--gaining force until it joined with the rush of the Castle River, near the old Custer Trail, and was swallowed into the Deerfield Reservoir to collect and prepare for the touch of man. ~ Ron Parsons,
1346:I might have flaws, live anxiously and sometimes be irritated but, I do not forget that my life if the World’s biggest company, and I can avoid it to bankrupt.
To be happy is to recognize that it is worth living, besides all challenges, incomprehension’s or crisis. To be happy is not to let ourselves beat by the problems, becoming an author of our own history.
To be happy is to cross deserts outrageously, but to still be able to find your own oasis in the deepest of your soul.
It is thanking God each morning for the miracle of life. To be happy is not to be afraid of your own feelings. To be happy is to speak about your personality. To be happy is to have the guts to hear a “NO”. Is to have the security hearing a critique, even that it is unfair.
And if I have rocks on my way, I shall keep them all.
Someday, I will build up my own castle… ~ Fernando Pessoa,
1347:Heard You-Know-Who from up in our cave,” said Hagrid grimly. “Voice carried, didn’ it? ‘Yeh got till midnight ter gimme Potter.’ Knew yeh mus’ be here, knew what mus’ be happenin’. Get down, Fang. So we come ter join in, me an’ Grawpy an’ Fang. Smashed our way through the boundary by the forest, Grawpy was carryin’ us, Fang an’ me. Told him ter let me down at the castle, so he shoved me through the window, bless him. Not exac’ly what I meant, bu’ — where’s Ron an’ Hermione?” “That,” said Harry, “is a really good question. Come on.” They hurried together along the corridor, Fang lolloping beside them. Harry could hear movement through the corridors all around: running footsteps, shouts; through the windows, he could see more flashes of light in the dark grounds. “Where’re we goin’?” puffed Hagrid, pounding along at Harry’s heels, making the floorboards quake. ~ J K Rowling,
1348:What boots it, thy virtue,
What profit thy parts,
While one thing thou lackest,
The art of all arts!
The only credentials,
Passport to success,
Opens castle and parlor,
Address, man, Address.

The maiden in danger
Was saved by the swain,
His stout arm restored her
To Broadway again:

The maid would reward him,
Gay company come,
They laugh, she laughs with them,
He is moonstruck and dumb.

This clenches the bargain,
Sails out of the bay,
Gets the vote in the Senate,
Spite of Webster and Clay;

Has for genius no mercy,
For speeches no heed,
It lurks in the eyebeam,
It leaps to its deed.

Church, tavern, and market,
Bed and board it will sway;
It has no to-morrow,
It ends with to-day.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Tact
,
1349:Once upon a valley
There came down
From some goldenblue mountains
A handsome young prince
Who was riding a dawncolored horse
Names Lordsburg.

I love you
You’re my breathing castle
Gentle so gentle
We’ll live forever

In the valley
There was a beautiful maiden
Whom the prince drifted into love with
Like a New Mexico made from apple thunder and long
glass beds.

I love you
You’re my breathing castle
Gentle so gentle
We’ll live forever

The prince enchanted
The maiden
And they rode off
On the dawncolored horse
Named Lordsburg
Toward the goldenblue mountains.

I love you
You’re my breathing castle
Gentle so gentle
We’ll live forever

They would have lived
happily ever after
if the horse hadn’t had
a flat tire
In front of a dragon’s
House. ~ Richard Brautigan,
1350:We're running out of time, he said.

As if time were the kind of thing you could run out of, as if it were measured into bowls that were handed to us at birth and if we ate too much or too fast or right before jumping into the water then our time would be lost, wasted, already spent.
But time is beyond our finite comprehension. It's endless, it exists outside of us; we cannot run out of it or lose track of it or find a way to hold on to it. Time goes on even when we do not.
We have plenty of time, is what Castle should have said. We have all the time in the world, is what he should have said to me. But he didn't because what he meant tick tock is that our time tick tock is shifting. It's hurtling forward heading in an entirely new direction slamming face-first into something else and
tick
tick
tick
tick
tick
it's almost
time for war ~ Tahereh Mafi,
1351:I turned in my seat. Will’s face was in shadow and I couldn’t quite make it out.
‘Just hold on. Just for a minute.’
‘Are you all right?’ I found my gaze dropping towards his chair, afraid some part of him was pinched, or trapped, that I had got something wrong.
‘I’m fine. I just . . . ’
I could see his pale collar, his dark suit jacket a contrast against it.
‘I don’t want to go in just yet. I just want to sit and not have to think about . . . ’ He swallowed.
Even in the half-dark it seemed effortful.
‘I just . . . want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more.’
I released the door handle.
‘Sure.’
I closed my eyes and lay my head against the headrest, and we sat there together for a while longer, two people lost in remembered music, half hidden in the shadow of a castle on a moonlit hill. ~ Jojo Moyes,
1352:It was always the same for her when she arrived to meet the body. After she unbuckled her seat belt, after she pulled a stick pen from the rubber band on the sun visor, after her long fingers brushed her hip to feel the comfort of her service piece, what she always did was pause. Not long. Just the length of a slow deep breath. That's all it took for her to remember the one thing she will never forget. Another body waited. She drew the breath. And when she could feel the raw edges of the hole that had been blown in her life, Detective Nikki Heat was ready. She opened the car door and went to work . . . Heat could have made it easier on herself by parking closer, but this was another of her rituals: the walk up. Every crime scene was a flavor of chaos, and these two hundred feet afforded the detective her only chance to fill the clean slate with her own impressions. ~ Richard Castle,
1353:Within a year, possibly by next fall," he was saying, "something that has never before been done, will be done. NASA will be sending men to the moon. Think of that. Men who were once in classrooms like this one will leave their footprints on the lunar surface." He paused. I leaned in close against the wall so I could hear him. "That is why you are sitting here tonight, and why you will be coming here in the months ahead. You come to dream dreams. You come to build fantastic castles up in the air. And you come to learn how to build the foundations that make those castles real. When the men who will command that mission were boys your age, no one knew. But in a few months, that's what will happen. So, twenty years from now, what will people say of you? 'No one knew then that this kid Washington Irving High School would grow up to do'...what? What castle will you build? ~ Gary D Schmidt,
1354:No, I don’t think my conscience would let me support a strike like that. When a man becomes a writer, I think he takes on a sacred obligation to produce beauty and enlightenment and comfort at top speed.” “I just can’t help thinking what a real shaking up it would give people if, all of a sudden, there were no new books, new plays, new histories, new poems… “And how proud would you be when people started dying like flies?” I demanded. “They’d die more like mad dogs, I think—snarling and snapping at each other and biting their own tails.” I turned to Castle the elder. “Sir, how does a man die when he’s deprived of the consolations of literature?” “In one of two ways,” he said, “petrescence of the heart or atrophy of the nervous system.” “Neither one very pleasant, I expect,” I suggested. “No,” said Castle the elder. “For the love of God, both of you, please keep writing! ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1355:When I was stuck in Colnora during the siege, your old friends helped get me out.”

“The Diamond?”

Hadrian nodded. “Price arranged for me to slip away one night in exchange for delivering the letter. He preferred risking my neck rather than one of his boys.”

“What did it say? Who was it from?”

Hadrian shrugged. “How would I know?”

“You didn’t read it?” Royce asked incredulously.

“No, it was for Alric.”

“Do you still have it?”

Hadrian shook his head. “Delivered it to the castle on the way in.”

Royce dropped his face into his hands. “Sometimes, I just …” Royce shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked as she joined them.

“Hadrian’s an idiot,” Royce replied, his voice muffled by his hands.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Thank you, Gwen. See? At least she appreciates me. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1356:All day the company traveled through the wood, and except for the persistent worry that around every tree hid a toothy cow or horned hound, the trip was oddly enjoyable. Janner relaxed for the first time since they had left Peet’s castle, as if a cold river inside him was finally in thaw. Still, the words the old gray dragon had spoken haunted him. “He is near you. Beware.” It occurred to him that the dragon hadn’t actually said Gnag the Nameless was nearby. But who else could it have meant? Who else would “seek the young ones to use them for his own ends”? The dragon probably meant the leader of the Fangs at Miller’s Bridge. Or it might have been talking about Zouzab Koit—but why would a little ridgerunner be of any concern to the sea dragons? Podo was probably right—the sea dragon was lying, manipulating Janner for the fun of it. But somehow that didn’t seem right either. ~ Andrew Peterson,
1357:I actually do have a motto,” said Heat. “It’s ‘Never forget who you work for.'" And as she voiced the words, Nikki felt a creeping unease. It wasn’t exactly shame, but it was close. For the first time it sounded hollow. Fake. Why? She examined herself, trying to see what was different. The stress, that was new. And when she looked at that, she recognized that the hardest part of her day lately was working to avoid confrontation with Captain Montrose. That’s when it came to her. In that moment, sitting nearly naked in Rook’s living room, playing some silly nineteenth-century parlor game, she came to an unexpected insight. In that moment Nikki woke up and saw with great clarity who she had become - and who she had stopped being. Without noticing it, Heat had begun seeing herself as working for her captain and had lost sight of her guiding principle, that she worked for the victim. ~ Richard Castle,
1358:Lab Report Sheet The Principle: The Abracadabra Principle The Theory: Whatever you focus on expands. The Question: Can I pull things out of thin air simply by thinking about them? The Hypothesis: By making the following intention and focusing on its outcome, I can draw it into my life. My Intention:                                           Time Required: 48 hours The Approach: I have scanned over the big catalog called the world and, for the sake of this experiment, have decided that this is what I intend to manifest in the next 48 hours. I will focus on it with all my being. And I will remember what Abraham-Hicks likes to say: “It is as easy to manifest a castle as a button.” Today’s Date:     Time:     Deadline for Manifesting:     Research Notes:                                        ~ Pam Grout,
1359:In my opinion, the best time to be alive is always right now. People are aways whining about how they were born in the wrong century, but they really haven't thought things through. They picture the old castle they wish they could live in, but they don't think about the drafts in the winter or the pitch darkness at night, or all the spiders and the lice. They can't imagine the everyday pain of a life without antibiotics or anesthetics. The tedium of a world without movies or recorded music or... or... Internet videos about cats. And don't even get me started on women who idealize the past. Do you have any idea what it was like to be a woman even a hundred years ago? Horrible! And a hundred years before that, the situation practically defies description. We might as well have been slaves. Trussed up in hoop skirts and corsets, married off like racehorses. Good riddance to history, I say! ~ Tommy Wallach,
1360:10.: I do not know whether I have put this clearly; self-knowledge is of such consequence that I would not have you careless of it, though you may be lifted to heaven in prayer, because while on earth nothing is more needful than humility. Therefore, I repeat, not only a good way, but the best of all ways, is to endeavour to enter first by the room where humility is practised, which is far better than at once rushing on to the others. This is the right road;-if we know how easy and safe it is to walk by it, why ask for wings with which to fly? Let us rather try to learn how to advance quickly. I believe we shall never learn to know ourselves except by endeavouring to know God, for, beholding His greatness we are struck by our own baseness, His purity shows our foulness, and by meditating on His humility we find how very far we are from being humble. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle, 1.02,
1361:Picture, for example, in 1077, the humbled Henry IV, supreme head of the Holy Roman Empire and heir to Charlemagne (whom Pope Leo III had crowned emperor in 800), crossing the Alps and forced to wait, in penitence, barefoot in a haircloth shirt in the snow outside the castle at Canossa to make his peace with Gregory VII! Claiming to be "King of kings," Gregory, because of a quarrel with Henry, had declared: "On the part of God omnipotent, I forbid Henry to govern the kingdoms of Italy and Germany. I absolve all subjects from every oath they have taken and I excommunicate every person who shall serve him as king." Henry had no defense against that superweapon of the popes. Thus was established that magnificent "whore" portrayed by John in Revelation 17—headquartered in a city located upon seven hills (verse 9) and which "reigneth over the kings of the earth" (verse 18). One eighteenth-century ~ Dave Hunt,
1362:4 May.—I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German. This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did. He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of way. He mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knew. When I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak further. It was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask any one else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting. ~ Bram Stoker,
1363:when he was engaged in blue-sky thinking, his science was not a separate endeavor from his art. Together they served his driving passion, which was nothing less than knowing everything there was to know about the world, including how we fit into it. He had a reverence for the wholeness of nature and a feel for the harmony of its patterns, which he saw replicated in phenomena large and small. In his notebooks he would record curls of hair, eddies of water, and whirls of air, along with some stabs at the math that might underlie such spirals. While at Windsor Castle looking at the swirling power of the “Deluge drawings” that he made near the end of his life, I asked the curator, Martin Clayton, whether he thought Leonardo had done them as works of art or of science. Even as I spoke, I realized it was a dumb question. “I do not think that Leonardo would have made that distinction,” he replied. ~ Walter Isaacson,
1364:What could you have been thinking?” Iris demanded a mere moment later, advancing on Bram with her hands on her hips. “You have, in case you’ve forgotten, a castle filled with local Tarrytown folk, your grandmother in residence, no less, as is a young lady whose identity we were supposed to be protecting.” She stopped right in front of him and actually poked him with her finger. “Why would you have chosen this particular time, and this”—she gestured to the storage room at large—“particular place to try to woo Miss Plum? A lady, if you’ll recall, who we’ve told all those gathered is your cousin, which makes all this”—she gestured around the room again—“seem rather tawdry.” “She’s supposed to be a distant cousin,” Bram reminded her. “And one with a wart and no teeth,” Ruby added, her lips curving ever so slightly. “I don’t believe you’re helping my situation,” Bram muttered. “Goodness, you’re right. ~ Jen Turano,
1365:I might not have transferred to a new school, but it was still like I'd joined the world's oldest, grayest, least peppy cheerleading squad, and I was sick of being stuck in a castle like a prisoner myself with the whole lousy bunch of them.
"Garda! Vin aici!" I heard myself growling in a voice I'd never used before.
I wasn't sure where the words came from, either. They weren't on my DVD, but I must have heard Lucius summon the guards often enough that when I really needed to use the phrase it just came out, and both of the vampires who were posted at the doors stepped to my sides.
I didn't look around at the Elders—I wasn't about to stop glaring at my new worst enemy—but I heard murmurs again, like everybody was more surprised by my flawless Romanian than by my announcement about the trial.
I narrowed my eyes at Flaviu. "Well? Do you want to see how long you can last without blood? ~ Beth Fantaskey,
1366:Tell me the story of the locket.'
'Once upon a time, my lord, in the best and the worst of all possible words, a princess fell in love with a young man who loved to draw pictures.'
'Like Ducon.'
'Very like your cousin. Every day for a year, she gave him a rose. She would pick it at dawn from her father's gardens and then take it to the highest place in the castle, a place so high that everyone had forgotten about it except for the doves that nested beneath the broken roof. There, she had found a secret door between the best and the worst of the worlds. Every day, they would meet on the threshold of that door. She would give him a rose, and he would give her a drawing of the city he lived in. They loved each other very much, but of course they could never marry, because they were from different worlds: she was a princess and he an artist who had to paint tavern signs to keep himself fed. ~ Patricia A McKillip,
1367:The train scooted along the fried coast. We made solid headway into the Marston's. Mo was down a testicle since the spring. We'd called in at the Royal the night of his operation. We'd stopped at the Ship and Mitre on the way—they'd a handsome bitter from Clitheroe on guest tap. We needed the fortification: when Real Ale Club boys parade down hospital wards, we tend to draw worried glances from the whitecoats. We are shaped like those chaps in the warning illustrations on cardiac charts. We gathered around Mo and breathed a nice fog of bitter over the lad and we joshed him gently.

“Sounding a little high-pitched, Mo?”

“Other lad's going to be worked overtime.”

“Diseased bugger you'll want in a glass jar, Mo. One for the mantelpiece.”

Love is a strong word, but. We were family to Mo when he was up the Royal having the bollock out. We passed Flint Castle and Everett Bell piped up. ~ Kevin Barry,
1368:That story I told you as we arrived? About the man who killed the former master of this castle and raped his wife? Did you think it a fairy tale? No, his blood runs in my veins. I was bred to do what I am doing now. Don't fault the viper for striking. It's what snakes do."
Her lips trembled, but her eyes were dry, as if she'd already given up hope of persuading him and he did not mourn at all. Not at all. "The blood of that woman who was raped is in your veins, too, isn't it?"
Oh, she knew where to hit. "Naturally. But I think it's less apparent, don't you? The story says she was dark and small."
She shook her head. "So all that talk of right and wrong- that doesn't matter in the end to you at all?"
He hesitated- just for the smallest fraction of a second- because he had always found the question of right and wrong rather fascinating.
But then he smiled at her. "Only in the abstract. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,
1369:She walked through the underpass at the Elephant and Castle, enjoying the sense that nothing really mattered, not the truth about the past, nor whether they believed her, not Winnie’s drinking or Vik’s ultimatum. It was the perfect place to escape from a painful past. She could waste years at home trying to make sense of a random series of events. There was no meaning, no lessons to be learned, no moral—none of it meant anything. She could spend her entire life trying to weave meaning into it, like compulsive gamblers and their secret schema. Nothing mattered, really, because an anonymous city is the moral equivalent of a darkened room. She understood why Ann had come here and stayed here and died here. It wouldn’t be hard. All she had to do was let go of home. She would phone Leslie and Liam sometimes, say she was fine, fine, let the calls get farther apart, make up a life for herself and they’d finally forget. ~ Denise Mina,
1370:Mendanbar took a deep breath. “You could stay here. At the castle, I mean. With me.” This wasn’t coming out at all the way he had wanted it to, but it was too late to stop now. He hurried on, “As Queen of the Enchanted Forest, if you think you would like that. I would.”
“Would you, really?”
“Yes,” Mendanbar said, looking down. “I love you, and—and—”
“And you should have said that to begin with,” Cimorene interrupted, putting her arms around him.
Mendanbar looked up, and the expression on her face made his heart begin to pound.
“Just to be sure I have this right,” Cimorene went on with a blinding smile, “did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Yes,” Mendanbar said. “At least, that’s what I meant.”
“Good. I will.”
Mendanbar tried to find something to say, but he was too happy to think. He leaned forward two inches and kissed Cimorene, and discovered that he didn’t need to say anything at all. ~ Patricia C Wrede,
1371:WON!” They beamed up at him as he passed; there was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron’s head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the entrance hall and out of sight. Harry and Hermione watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of “Weasley Is Our King” died away. Then they turned to each other, their smiles fading. “We’ll save our news till tomorrow, shall we?” said Harry. “Yes, all right,” said Hermione wearily. “I’m not in any hurry . . .” They climbed the steps together. At the front doors both instinctively looked back at the Forbidden Forest. Harry was not sure whether it was his imagination or not, but he rather thought he saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the treetops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots. ~ J K Rowling,
1372:In a game of chess you can make certain arbitrary concessions to your opponent, which stand to the ordinary rules of the game as miracles stand to the laws of nature. You can deprive yourself of a castle, or allow the other man sometimes to take back a move made inadvertently. But if you conceded everything that at any moment happened to suit him — if all his moves were revocable and if all your pieces disappeared whenever their position on the board was not to his liking — then you could not have a game at all. So it is with the life of souls in a world: fixed laws, consequences unfolding by causal necessity, the whole natural order, are at once limits within which their common life is confined and also the sole condition under which any such life is possible. Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself. ~ C S Lewis,
1373:At Castle Wood
The day is done, the winter sun
Is setting in its sullen sky;
And drear the course that has been run,
And dim the hearts that slowly die.
No star will light my coming night;
No morn of hope for me will shine;
I mourn not heaven would blast my sight,
And I ne'er longed for joys divine.
Through life's hard task I did not ask
Celestial aid, celestial cheer;
I saw my fate without its mask,
And met it too without a tear.
The grief that pressed my aching breast
Was heavier far than earth can be;
And who would dread eternal rest
When labour's hour was agony?
Dark falls the fear of this despair
On spirits born of happiness;
But I was bred the mate of care,
The foster-child of sore distress.
No sighs for me, no sympathy,
No wish to keep my soul below;
The heart is dead in infancy,
Unwept-for let the body go.
~ Emily Jane Brontë,
1374:What are these?" Maxon asked, brushing across the tips of my fingers as we walked.
"Calluses. They're from pressing down on violin strings four hours a day."
"I've never noticed them before."
"Do they bother you?" I was the lowest caste of the six girls left, and I doubted any of them had hands like mine.
Maxon stopped moving and lifted my fingers to his lips, kissing the tiny, worn tips.
"On the contrary. I find them rather beautiful." I felt myself blush. "I've seen the world – admittedly mostly through bulletproof glass or from the tower of some ancient castle – but I've seen it. And I have access to the answers of a thousand questions at my disposal. But this small hand here?" He looked deeply into my eyes. "This hand makes sounds incomparable to anything I've ever heard. Sometimes I think I only dreamed that I heard you play the violin, it was so beautiful. These calluses are proof that it was real. ~ Kiera Cass,
1375:Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that some foreknowledge of the country could hardly fail to have some importance in dealing with a nobleman of that country. I find that the district he named is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian mountains; one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe. I was not able to light on any map or work giving the exact locality of the Castle Dracula, as there are no maps of this country as yet to compare with our own Ordnance Survey maps; but I found that Bistritz, the post town named by Count Dracula, is a fairly well-known place. I shall enter here some of my notes, as they may refresh my memory when I talk over my travels with Mina. ~ Bram Stoker,
1376:The Castle Ruins At Balaklava
These castles, whose remains are strewn in heaps for miles,
Once graced and guarded you, Crimea the ungrateful!
Today they sit upon the hills, each like a great skull
In which reptiles reside or men worse than reptiles.
Let’s climb a tower, search for crests upon worn tiles,
For an inscription or a hero’s name, the fateful
Bane of armies now forgotten by the faithful,
A wizened beetle wrapped in vines below the aisles.
Here Greeks wrought Attic ornaments upon the walls,
From which Italians would cast Mongols into chains,
And where the Mecca-bound once stopped to pray and beg.
Today above the tombs the shadow of night falls,
The black-winged buzzards fly like pennants over plains,
As if towards a city ever touched by plague.
— translated from the Polish by Leo Yankevich
first appeared in the Sarmatian Review
~ Adam Mickiewicz,
1377:During Snow White's story, her mother had somehow survived sharing a castle with the Greatest Evil the World Has Ever Known and come out of it not only okay but Happily Ever After. What advice would her mother give?
Apple knew because Snow White had cross-stitched the words on a pillow and propped it up in the informal receiving room: When Life Is All Dark Woods And Poisoned Apples, Remember You Have Friends. Snow White had stitched messages on other pillows, too, such as: Squirrels Will Never Let You Down, Unless They're Hibernating; There Are Always Birds; Nature Loves A Broom; Love Is Knowing A rabbit Needs You; Hugs Are How It's Done; Double Hugs Are For The Grumpy; Trees And Dogs Are Happy, So Start Barking; and others. Honestly, it was hard to find a sofa in the enormous White Castle that didn't sport a cross-stitched pillow. But the "Remember You Have Friends" one offered the most insight to Apple at the moment. ~ Shannon Hale,
1378:I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through weary years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.” Somehow his words and his look did not seem to accord, or else it was that his cast of face made his smile look malignant and saturnine. ~ Bram Stoker,
1379:That’s quite okay, sir,” Pete said with a smile. “I don’t only like Patsy Cline.” Beatriz caught that sir in midair, like a bird, and studied it in her mind. For some, a sir in this situation might have been used for an equally rude effect, sarcastically spitting politeness at the party who had wronged them. For others, it might have been automatic, someone who said sir so often that it didn’t mean anything at all. For Pete, it was launched with deference. I’m no threat, that sir declared, with a peacekeeping smile. You’re still king of the castle. Antonia’s dogs were always fighting among one another, and the battles ended when one rolled onto its back to show it had no fight in it. That was Pete’s sir in this particular exchange. Beatriz found this unfair, as Pete had done nothing wrong, but also frustrating, as Pete would think Joaquin was always petulant, which was far from the truth. The kindness made Joaquin crosser, ~ Maggie Stiefvater,
1380:How do you know this story?"
Yeva's breath caught. "Because it's my story too," she whispered. "Because I thought I wouldn't be happy until I left town to live in the wood, and then I thought I wouldn't be happy until I could hunt every day, and then I thought I wouldn't be happy until I avenged my father's death. Because I spent a year in an old castle with the young prince and the gray wolf and I thought I couldn't be happy until I killed them both, and when I did, I wept harder than I ever have in my life. Because I thought I couldn't be happy until I went home, and then I thought I couldn't be happy until I came back."
"Because I thought the reason I'd always felt so restless was because I was meant for magic," Yeva said softly. "That if I could fix the story, that if I rescued the young prince and the gray wolf and I found the Firebird and I held in my hands everything I'd ever wanted, I would live happily ever after. ~ Meagan Spooner,
1381:...it occurred to me, not for the first time, what a remarkably small world Britain is. That is its glory, you see--that it manages at once to be intimate and small scale, and at the same time packed to bursting with incident and interest. I am constantly filled with admiration at this--at the way you can wander through a town like Oxford and in the space of a few hundred yards pass the home of Christopher Wren, the buildings where Halley found his comet and Boyle his first law, the track where Roger Bannister ran the first sub-four-minute mile, the meadow where Lewis Carroll strolled; or how you can stand on Snow's Hill at Windsor and see, in a single sweep, Windsor Castle, the playing fields of Eton, the churchyard where Gray wrote his "Elegy," the site where The Merry Wives of Windsor was performed. Can there anywhere on earth be, in such a modest span, a landscape more packed with centuries of busy, productive attainment? ~ Bill Bryson,
1382:What teens have to work with, then, are two wildly divergent messages. They live in a candyland of sex…every magazine stand is a gumdrop castle of breasts, every reality show is a bootylicious Tootsie Roll tree. And these are hormonal teenagers: This culture speaks to them. But at school, the line given to the majority of them about sex is just say no. They are taught that sex is wrong until you have a wedding (they have seen those in the magazines and on the reality shows too, huge affairs that require boatloads of Casablanca lilies and mountains of crystal), and then suddenly it becomes natural and nice.

If you process this information through the average adolescent mental computer, you end up with a printout that reads something like this: Girls have to be hot. Girls who aren’t hot probably need breast implants. Once a girl is hot, she should be as close to naked as possible all the time. Guys should like it. Don’t have sex. ~ Ariel Levy,
1383:That evening after tea the four children all managed to get down to the beach again and get their shoes and stockings off and feel the sand between their toes. But the next day was more solemn. For then, in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel--that wonderful hall with the ivory roof and the west door all hung with peacock’s feathers and the eastern door which opens right onto the sea, in the presence of all their friends and to the sound of trumpets, Aslan solemnly crowned them and led them onto the four thrones amid deafening shouts of, “Long Live King Peter! Long Live Queen Susan! Long Live King Edmund! Long Live Queen Lucy!”
“Once a King or Queen in Narnia, always a King or Queen. Bear it well, Sons of Adam! Bear it well, Daughters of Eve!” said Aslan.
And through the eastern door, which was wide open, came the voices of the mermen and the mermaids swimming close to the castle steps and singing in honor of their new Kings and Queens. ~ C S Lewis,
1384:Instead of of looking at books and pictures about the New Testament I looked at the New Testament. There I found an account, not in the least of a person with his hair parted in the middle or his hands clasped in appeal, but of an extraordinary being with lips of thunder and acts of lurid decision, flinging down tables, casting out devils, passing with wild secrecy of the wind from mountain isolation to a sort of dreadful demagogy; a being who often acted like an angry god--and always like a god. Christ had even a literary style of his own, not to be found, I think, elsewhere; it consists of an almost furious use of the a fortiori. His "how much more" is piled one upon another like castle upon castle in the clouds. The diction used about Christ has been, and perhaps wisely, sweet and submissive. But the diction used by Christ is quite curiously gigantesque; it is full of camels leaping through needles and mountains hurled into the sea. ~ G K Chesterton,
1385:The Green Roads
The green roads that end in the forest
Are strewn with white goose feathers this June,
Life marks left behind by someone gone to the forest
To show his track. But he has never come back.
Down each green road a cottage looks at the forest.
Round one the nettle towers; two are bathed in flowers.
An old man along the green road to the forest
Strays from one, from another a child alone.
In the thicket bordering the forest,
All day long a thrush twiddles his song.
It is old, but the trees are young in the forest,
All but one like a castle keep, in the middle deep.
That oak saw the ages pass in the forest:
They were a host, but their memories are lost,
For the tree is dead: all things forget the forest
Excepting perhaps me, when now I see
The old man, the child, the goose feathers at the edge of the forest,
And hear all day long the thrush repeat his song.
~ Edward Thomas,
1386:Bagenal stood gaping as shot whizzed by his head. It was his brother-in-law, the traitor Tyrone. And the man had spotted him as well. Fury rose in Henry Bagenal and he strode out into the field to meet the bloody Irish devil. He and Tyrone would fight hand to hand, to the death, he swore to himself. He would have his revenge for Mabel, beautiful child, lost to this wretched land.   THE BALL FROM the musket of the proud Ulster marksman found the very center of Captain Bagenal’s forehead and blew out the back of the Englishman’s skull. Hugh O’Neill saw his brother-in-law fall, and though a great, joyful cry rose in his throat he never missed a step, leading his pikemen onward. But he found himself smiling as he marched, savoring the irony of the moment, for the ball that had smashed open Henry Bagenal’s head had been molded from the melted-down lead that old Lord Burleigh had foolishly sent for the roof of Mabel O’Neill’s proper English castle. ~ Robin Maxwell,
1387:It was Leslie who had taken him from the cow pasture into Terabithia and turned him into a king. He had thought that was it. Wasn't king the best you could be? Now it occurred to him that perhaps Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed for a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn't Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world—huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile? (Handle with care—everything—even the predators.)

Now it was time for him to move out. She wasn't there, so he must go for both of them. It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength.

As for the terrors ahead—for he did not fool himself that they were all behind him—well, you just have to stand up to your fear and not let it squeeze you white. Right, Leslie?

Right. ~ Katherine Paterson,
1388:There isn't a story to tell, because a relationship is a story you construct together and take up residence in, a story as sheltering as a house. You invent this story of how your destinies were made to entwine like porch vines, you adjust to a big view in this direction and no view in that, the doorway that you have to duck through and the window that is jammed, how who you think you are becomes a factor of who you think he is and who he thinks you are, a castle in the clouds made out of the moist air exhaled by dreamers. It's a shock to find yourself outdoors and alone again, hard to imagine that you could ever live in another house, big where this one was small, small where it was big, hard when your body has learned all the twists and turns of the staircase so that you could walk it in your sleep, hard when you have built it from scratch and called it home, hard to imagine building again. But you lit the fire that burned it down yourself. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
1389:There were stalls nestled around the castle the way the lights were, not in rows but in odd spots, as if the stalls had grown there or alighted on random places like birds. There was one stall with ringing chimes that was set halfway up a ruined wall, so the customers had to climb sliding pieces of slate to get to it. There were more stalls set in the grassy hollows among the stones and nestled into the corners of the walls. One woman had actually turned a ruined wall into her stall, brightly colored jars arranged on the jagged, protruding shards of stone.

All through the fragments of a lost castle lit by magic moved the people of the Goblin Market. There was a man hanging up knives alongside wind chimes, which made dangerous and beautiful music as they rang together in the sea breeze. There was a boy who looked about twelve stirring something in a cauldron with a rich-smelling cloud handing over it, and bark cups ranged along his stall. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,
1390:Hagrid’s hint about the spiders was far easier to understand — the trouble was, there didn’t seem to be a single spider left in the castle to follow. Harry looked everywhere he went, helped (rather reluctantly) by Ron. They were hampered, of course, by the fact that they weren’t allowed to wander off on their own but had to move around the castle in a pack with the other Gryffindors. Most of their fellow students seemed glad that they were being shepherded from class to class by teachers, but Harry found it very irksome. One person, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion. Draco Malfoy was strutting around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy. Harry didn’t realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions lesson about two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left, when, sitting right behind Malfoy, Harry overheard him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle. “I always thought Father might be the one who ~ J K Rowling,
1391:Maker Of Heaven And Earth (All Things Bright And
Beautiful)
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colours,
He made their tiny wings.
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
The purple-headed mountain,
The river running by,
The sunset, and the morning,
That brightens up the sky;
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
We gather every day;-He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
~ Cecil Frances Alexander,
1392:The castle’s chapel has been remade. The glass-and-gold chandelier still floats in the center of the room, the wires holding it up too thin to be seen by candlelight. All these electric miracles. The windows depicting the angels praising Our Lady have remained intact, as have the panels to Saint Theresa and Saint Jerome. The others—and the enameled paintings in the cupola—have been replaced and reimagined according to the New Scripture. There is the Almighty speaking to the Matriarch Rebecca in the form of a dove. There is the Prophet Deborah proclaiming the Holy Word to the disbelieving people. There—although she protested—is Mother Eve, the symbolic tree behind her, receiving the message from the Heavens and extending her hand filled with lightning. In the center of the cupola is the hand with the all-seeing eye at its heart. That is the symbol of God, Who watches over each of us, and Whose mighty hand is outstretched to both the powerful and the enslaved. ~ Naomi Alderman,
1393:When I was a kid, I just read and read. We were lucky enough to have gone to England and had a whole bunch of Penguin Puffins books, like The Land of Green Ginger by Noel Langley, which is hilarious. I would love to be able to write a book like that, but I don't know that I have a humorous bone in my body when it comes to writing. Once on a Time by A.A. Milne. I read a lot of old, old fantasy stuff. The Carbonelbooks by Barbara Sleigh. Then when I got a little older I loved Zilpha Keatley Snyder. I was a big fan of romance and when I got a little bit older I would read a Harlequin romance or a Georgette Heyer novel and then David Copperfield, and then another genre book and then Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy. I was that kind of reader. One book that I loved was I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. I loved voice and that book had it in spades. And then of course I grew into loving Jane Eyre. ~ Franny Billingsley,
1394:When you read The Arabian Nights you accept Islam. You accept the fables woven by generations as if they were by one single author or, better still, as if they had no author. And in fact they have one and none. Something so worked on, so polished by generations is no longer associated with and individual. In Kafka's case, it's possible that his fables are now part of human memory. What happened to Quixote could happen to to them. Let's say that all the copies of Quixote, in Spanish and in translation, were lost. The figure of Don Quixote would remain in human memory. I think that the idea of a frightening trial that goes on forever, which is at the core of The Castle and The Trial (both books that Kafka, of course, never wanted to publish because he knew they were unfinished), is now grown infinite, is now part of human memory and can now be rewritten under different titles and feature different circumstances. Kafka's work now forms a part of human memory. ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
1395:The last days of GRACE O’MALLEY’S life are a mystery. There are records of her ships—if not personally captained by her—still patrolling the western Irish coast in mid 1601. She seems to have lived at Rockfleet Castle near the end, and probably died at the age of seventy-three, in 1603—the same year as Elizabeth’s death. Some of her stark, brooding castles and ruined abbeys on the shores and islands of Clew Bay today stand testament to her life, though the whereabouts of her earthly remains are still in dispute. While her ending is shrouded in the mists of time, there’s nothing to suggest that Grace O’Malley would have gone gently into that good night. One can imagine that, like Elizabeth, she’d have stood her ground till the Reaper paid his final, insistent call. But thanks to Ireland’s balladeers and bards and a handful of Englishmen awed by so remarkable a woman, her last voyage was not into oblivion, but the pages of history and the rich fabric of Irish legend. ~ Robin Maxwell,
1396:After picking up the lamp, she went to Joyce, who was clutching her injured shoulder. I should leave you here, she thought. She was unaware she had said the words aloud until Joyce replied.
"You can't let me die!"
"You're not going to die." Disgusted, terrified, Sara removed her own petticoat, wadded it up, and pressed it firmly against the wound to staunch the blood. Joyce screamed like an enraged cat, her eyes slitted and demonic. Sara's ears rang from the piercing cry.
"Be quiet, you bitch!" Sara snapped. "Not another sound!" Suddenly her entire body was filled with furious energy. She felt strong enough to push down a stone wall with her bare hands. She went to the crumbling entrance of the castle and saw that the hack driver was still waiting, craning his neck curiously. "You!" she shouted. "Come here right away, or you won't get a bloody shilling of what she promised!" She turned back to Joyce, her blue eyes blazing. "And you... give me back my necklace. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1397:The third revolutionary upheaval, that of the Protestant Reformation, was initiated when Martin Luther posted ninety-five theses on the door of the Wittenberg Castle Church in 1517, insisting on the individual’s direct relationship with God; hence individual conscience—not established orthodoxy—was put forward as the key to salvation. A number of feudal rulers seized the opportunity to enhance their authority by embracing Protestantism, imposing it on their populations, and enriching themselves by seizing Church lands. Each side regarded the other as heretical, and disagreements turned into life-or-death struggles as political and sectarian disputes commingled. The barrier separating domestic and foreign disputes collapsed as sovereigns backed rival factions in their neighbors’ domestic, often bloody, religious struggles. The Protestant Reformation destroyed the concept of a world order sustained by the “two swords” of papacy and empire. Christianity was split and at war with itself. ~ Anonymous,
1398:Glorious,' said Steerpike, 'is a dictionary word. We are all imprisoned by the dictionary. We choose out of that vast, paper-walled prison our convicts, the little black printed words, when in truth we need fresh sounds to utter, new enfranchised noises which would produce a new effect. In dead and shackled language, my dears, you *are* glorious, but oh, to give vent to a brand new sounds that might convince you of what I really think of you, as you sit there in your purple splendour, side by side! But no, it is impossible. Life is too fleet for onomatopoeia. Dead words defy me. I can make no sound, dear ladies, that is apt.' 'You could try,' said Clarice. 'We aren't busy.' She smoothed the shining fabric of her dress with her long, lifeless fingers. 'Impossible,' replied the youth, rubbing his chin. 'Quite impossible. Only believe in my admiration for your beauty that will one day be recognized by the whole castle. Meanwhile, preserve all dignity and silent power in your twin bosoms. ~ Mervyn Peake,
1399:Ida Frickey
Nothing in life is alien to you:
I was a penniless girl from Summum
Who stepped from the morning train in Spoon River.
All the houses stood before me with closed doors
And drawn shades -- I was barred out;
I had no place or part in any of them.
And I walked past the old McNeely mansion,
A castle of stone 'mid walks and gardens,
With workmen about the place on guard,
And the County and State upholding it
For its lordly owner, full of pride.
I was so hungry I had a vision:
I saw a giant pair of scissors
Dip from the sky, like the beam of a dredge,
And cut the house in two like a curtain.
But at the "Commercial" I saw a man,
Who winked at me as I asked for work -It was Wash McNeely's son.
He proved the link in the chain of title
To half my ownership of the mansion,
Through a breach of promise suit -- the scissors.
So, you see, the house, from the day I was born,
Was only waiting for me.
~ Edgar Lee Masters,
1400:Summer, and hot. Full Earth had come to the land like a vampire lover that year, killing the land and the crops of the tenant farmers, turning the fields of the castle-city of Gilead white and sterile. In the west, some miles distant and near the borders that were the end of the civilized world, fighting had already begun. All reports were bad, and all of them paled to insignificance before the heat that rested over this place of the center. Cattle lolled empty-eyed in the pens of the stockyards. Pigs grunted lustlessly, unmindful of sows and sex and knives whetted for the coming fall. People whined about taxes and conscription, as they always did; but there was an apathy beneath the empty passion-play of politics. The center had frayed like a rag rug that had been washed and walked on and shaken and hung and dried. The thread that held the last jewel at the breast of the world was unraveling. Things were not holding together. The earth drew in its breath in the summer of the coming eclipse. ~ Stephen King,
1401:I want you to close your eyes and think about why you're here tonight. Don't tell me 'revenge' because you've already gotten it just by being here tonight. This isn't about Riko anymore. This isn't about the Ravens. This is about everything it took you to get to this point, everything it cost you, and everyone who laughed when you dared to dream of something big and bright. You're here tonight because you refused to give up and refused to give in. You're here where they all said you'd never be, and no one can say you haven't earned the right to play this game. All eyes are on you. It's time to show them what you're made of. There's no room for doubt, no room for second guesses, no room for error. This is your night. This is your game. This is your moment. Seize it with everything you've got. Pull out all the stops and lay it all on the line. Fight because you don't know how to die quietly. Win because you don't know how to lose. This king's ruled long enough—it's time to tear his castle down. ~ Nora Sakavic,
1402:The castle was as silent as some pole-axed monster. Inert, breathless, spread-eagled. It was a night that seemed to prove by the consolidation of its darkness and its silence the hopelessness of any further dawn. There was no such thing as dawn. It was an invention of the night's or of the old-wives of the night - a fable, immemorially old - recounted century after century in the eternal darkness; retold and retold to the gnomic children in the tunnels and the caves of Gormenghast - a tale of another world where such things happened, where stones and bricks and ivy stems and iron could be seen as well as touched and smelt, could be lit and coloured, and where at certain times a radiance shone like honey from the east and the blackness was scaled away, and this thing they called dawn arose above the woods as though the fable had materialized, the legend come to life. It was a night with a bull's mouth. But the mouth was bound and gagged. It was a night with enormous eyes, but they were hooded. ~ Mervyn Peake,
1403:Well, at first I did; I was restless; I didn't know however I should manage to support life--you know there are such moments, especially in solitude. There was a waterfall near us, such a lovely thin streak of water, like a thread but white and moving. It fell from a great height, but it looked quite low, and it was half a mile away, though it did not seem fifty paces. I loved to listen to it at night, but it was then that I became so restless. Sometimes I went and climbed the mountain and stood there in the midst of the tall pines, all alone in the terrible silence, with our little village in the distance, and the sky so blue, and the sun so bright, and an old ruined castle on the mountain-side, far away. I used to watch the line where earth and sky met, and longed to go and seek there the key of all mysteries, thinking that I might find there a new life, perhaps some great city where life should be grander and richer--and then it struck me that life may be grand enough even in a prison. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
1404:At first the only people who cheered were those who had been warned by Bern’s messenger and knew what was happening and wanted it to happen. But then all the children joined in because they liked a procession and had seen very few. And then all the schoolboys joined in because they also liked processions and felt that the more noise and disturbance there was the less likely they would be to have any school that morning. And then all the old women put their heads out of doors and windows and began chattering and cheering because it was a king, and what is a governor compared with that? And all the young women joined in for the same reason and also because Caspian and Drinian and the rest were so handsome. And then all the young men came to see what the young women were looking at, so that by the time Caspian reached the castle gates, nearly the whole town was shouting; and where Gumpas sat in the castle, muddling and messing about with accounts and forms and rules and regulations, he heard the noise. ~ C S Lewis,
1405:Most people think the Lego corporation assembled a crack team of world-class experts to engineer Mini-Florida on a computer, but I’m not buying it.” “You aren’t?” asked Coleman. “It’s way too good.” Serge pointed at a two-story building in Key West. “Examine the meticulous green shutters on Hemingway’s house. No, my money is on a lone-wolf manic type like the famous Latvian Edward Leedskalnin, who single-handedly built the Coral Castle back in the twenties. He operated in secret, moving multi-ton hewn boulders south of Miami, and nobody knows how he did it. Probably happened here as well: The Lego people conducting an exhaustive nationwide search among the obsessive-compulsive community. But they had to be selective and stay away from the ones whose entire houses are filled to the ceiling with garbage bags of their own hair. Then they most likely found some cult guru living in a remote Lego ashram south of Pueblo with nineteen wives, offered him unlimited plastic blocks and said, ‘Knock yourself out. ~ Tim Dorsey,
1406:Because Bogdan wanted more than she could ever give him. Because she mistrusted Stefan. Because Nicolae’s questions festered under her skin. Because Petru, young and thickheaded but hers, was dead, killed by the boyars she had then eliminated in the dining room of this very castle. Because even after all this, she knew in the blood that flowed through her veins that she could trust Radu. And because…Nicolae had been right. Lada was trying to pick a fight with Mehmed, even if she had not realized it before. She was not doing it for Wallachia. She did it for herself. For everything he had been to her. For all the ways he had failed her. She had Wallachia, and she would do everything she could to protect it, but she wanted to punish Mehmed. Kidnapping Radu—taking back the first, and the last, thing Mehmed had taken from her—might be enough to make him come to her when tens of thousands of bodies had not. Just three bodies mattered. The same three that had always mattered. Radu’s. Lada’s. And Mehmed’s. ~ Kiersten White,
1407:ALL ARE WELCOME. (NO FIGHTING.) That rule is simple on the surface, but not easy in the execution, because Maz Kanata's castle has been a meeting place since time immemorial-- a nexus point drawing together countless lines of allegiance and opposition, a place not only where friend and foe can meet, but where complex conflicts are worn down flat so that all may sit, have a drink and a meal, listen to a song, and broker whatever deals their hearts or politics require. That's why the flags outside her castle represent hundreds of cities and civilizations and guilds from before forever. The galaxy is not now, nor has it ever been, two polar forces battling for supremacy. It has been thousands of forces: a tug-of-war not with as ingle rope but a spider's web of influence, dominance, and desire. Clans and cults, tribes and families, governments and anti-governments. Queens, satraps, warlords! Diplomats, buccaneers, droids! Slicers, spicers, ramblers, and gamblers! To repeat: ALL ARE WELCOME. (NO FIGHTING.) ~ Chuck Wendig,
1408:The new moon is rising the axe of the thunder is broken
As never was not since the flood nor yet since the world began
The new moon is shining the angels are washing their windows
Above the years whose jumble sale goes spinning on below
Ask the snail beneath the stone, ask the stone beneath the wall
Are there any stars at all
Like an eagle in the sky tell me if air is strong

In the floating pan pipe victories of the golden harvest
Safe in the care of the dear moon

The new moon is rising the eyelid of god is approaching
The humane train the skating raining travelling voice of certainty
The new moon is shining the harmonious hand is now holding lord krishna's ring
The eagle's wing the voice of mother everything
Ask the snail beneath the stone, ask the stone beneath the wall
Are there any stars at all
Like an eagle in the sky tell me if air is strong

In the floating palaces of the spinning castle
May the fire king's daughter bring water to you ~ Robin Williamson,
1409:You’ll get paid. I’ll have my uncle set the money aside. You can pick it up at the castle.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we wait a few days, just to make sure.”

“Of course not.” The prince nodded.

“And if we send a representative to pick up the money for us?” Royce asked. Alric stared at him. “One who has no idea how to find us in case he is captured?”

“Oh please, aren’t you being just a tad bit too cautious now?”

“No such thing,” Royce replied.

“Look!” Myron shouted suddenly, pointing at the stable.

All three of them jumped fearfully at the sudden outburst.

“There’s a brown horse!” the monk said in amazement. “I didn’t know they came in brown!”

“By Mar, monk!” Alric shook his head in disbelief, a gesture Royce and Hadrian mirrored.

“Well, I didn’t,” Myron replied sheepishly. His excitement, however, was still evident when he added, “What other colors do they come in? Is there a green horse? A blue one? I would so love to see a blue one. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1410:And then I cried a flood of tears as if I really were a mermaid who had absorbed too much sea into herself. The tears spilled like a balm, like a potion, like a charm. In them swam a little girl whose father was dying without ever having seen her. In them swam a girl whose mother’s magic – the only thing the girl envied more than anything else in the world, the thing that had made her invisible, the most precious thing –might be dying too. In them swam a green-haired girl who had never been touched by the boy to whom she was so devoted that she would have lived with him forever in a shack by the sea or a ruined sand castle even if he never made love to her. My tears were for me, but they were also for him. They were to wash away the thing that had frightened him so much so long ago. The wound inside his thigh. My tears poured out of me and he drank them down his throat. He drank them in gulps deep into himself, swallowing sorrow.
Someday,” he said, “when we are ready, I will give you back your tears. ~ Francesca Lia Block,
1411:For a while it was forever, and then things started to fall apart. There isn't a story to tell, because a relationship is a story you construct together and take up residence in, a story as sheltering as a house. You invent this story of how your destinies were made to entwine like porch vines, you adjust to a big view in this direction and no view in that, the doorway that you have to duck through and the window that is jammed, how who you think you are becomes a factor of who you think he is and who he thinks you are, a castle in the clouds made out of the moist air exhaled by dreamers. It's a shock to find yourself outdoors and alone again, hard to imagine that you could ever live in another house, big where this one was small, small where it was big, hard when your body has learned all the twists and turns of the staircase so that you could walk it in your sleep, hard when you have built it from scratch and called it home, hard to imagine building again. But you lit the fire that burned it down yourself. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
1412:I let myself into the cellar, locked the door behind me. The cellar was cold. I found the whisky, let myself out of the cellar and locked it, turned all the lights out, gave Mrs McSpadden the bottle, accepted a belated new-year kiss from her, then made my way out through the kitchen and the corridor and the crowded hall where the music sounded loud and people were laughing, and out through the now almost empty entrance hall and down the steps of the castle and down the driveway and down to Gallanach, where I walked along the esplanade - occasionally having to wave to say 'Happy New Year' to various people I didn't know - until I got to the old railway pier and then the harbour, where I sat on the quayside, legs dangling, drinking my whisky and watching a couple of swans glide on black, still water, to the distant sound of highland jigs coming from the Steam Packet Hotel, and singing and happy-new-year shouts echoing in the streets of the town, and the occasional sniff as my nose watered in sympathy with my eyes. ~ Iain Banks,
1413:What I saw was the Count's head coming out from the window. I did not see the face, but I knew the man by the neck and the movement of his back and arms. In any case I could not mistake the hands which I had had some many opportunities of studying. I was at first interested and somewhat amused, for it is wonderful how small a matter will interest and amuse a man when he is a prisoner. But my very feelings changed to repulsion and terror when I saw the whole man slowly emerge from the window and begin to crawl down the castle wall over the dreadful abyss, face down with his cloak spreading out around him like great wings. At first I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was some trick of the moonlight, some weird effect of shadow, but I kept looking, and it could be no delusion. I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus using every projection and inequality move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall. ~ Bram Stoker,
1414:There is much that is immortal in this medieval lady. The dragons have gone, and so have the knights, but still she lingers in our midst. She reigned in many an early Victorian castle, and was Queen of much early Victorian song. It is sweet to protect her in the intervals of business, sweet to pay her honour when she has cooked our dinner well. But alas! the creature grows degenerate. In her heart also there are springing up strange desires. She too is enamoured of heavy winds, and vast panoramas, and green expanses of the sea. She has marked the kingdom of this world, how full it is of wealth, and beauty, and war--a radiant crust, built around the central fires, spinning towards the receding heavens. Men, declaring that she inspires them to it, move joyfully over the surface, having the most delightful meetings with other men, happy, not because they are masculine, but because they are alive. Before the show breaks up she would like to drop the august title of the Eternal Woman, and go there as her transitory self. ~ E M Forster,
1415:Royce eyed Hadrian with a skeptical expression. “He’ll never manage the climb.”

“Climb?” Hadrian asked.

“The treasure room is at the top of the Crown Tower,” Arcadius explained.

Even Hadrian had heard of that. Even farmers in Hintindar knew of the Crown Tower. Supposedly it was the leftover corner of some ancient but legendary castle.

“I’m in good shape. A few stairs aren’t going to kill me.”

“The tower is heavily guarded in every way, except against a person climbing up the outside,” Royce replied, his eyes fixed on the long fang he continued to twirl.

“Isn’t that because … well, I’ve heard it’s sort of tall.”

“The tallest surviving structure built by man,” Arcadius said.

“Should I bring a lunch?”

“Considering we’ll begin after dusk and climb all night, I’d suggest a late dinner,” Royce replied.

“I was joking.”

“I wasn’t. But I only ask one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“When you fall to your death, do so quietly. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1416:Our plan depended on the Renselaeus warriors being fast and accurate and brave, for they were as outnumbered as Bran and I had been up in the mountains.
I was also, therefore, intensely aware that my life was now in the hands of people I had considered enemies not two dawns ago. Did they still consider me one?
I tried to calm my nerves by laughing at myself; for someone who so recently had tried her best to ride to her death, my innards were a pit of snakes, and my palms were sweaty despite the rain. Bran was alive, I was alive, and suddenly I wanted to stay that way. I wanted to go home and clean out the castle and replant Mama’s garden. I wanted to see Oria and Julen and Khesot again, and I wanted to walk on the high peaks and dance with the Hill Folk on long summer nights, miming age-old stories to the windborne music…
I blinked. Had I just heard a reed pipe?
I lifted my head and listened, heard nothing but the thud of hooves and clatter of our accoutrements, and the soft rain in the leaves overhead. ~ Sherwood Smith,
1417:She bore an uncanny resemblance to my mother, but the same beauty bloomed differently in each of them. My mother's fairness was exquisite and untouchable, roaming alone in an abandoned castle. Khalto Bahiya's beauty took you in immediately. Hers was easy and disclosed hordes of laughter stolen from wherever it could be found. Gravity, sun, and time had scrawled on their faces the travails of hard work, childbirth, and destitution. But even these lines disagreed on their faces. Khalto Bahiya's face incorporated them into her joy and her pain, so that lines appeared and hid according to her expressions and provided frames and curves to her tenderness. Gentle folds nestled her lips and made her face open when she smiled - like an orchid. On Mama, the lines had always seemed incongruous - as if her beauty could accept no change or outside interference. The wrinkles on Mama's face had carved her skin like prison bars, behind which one could discern the perpetual plaint of something grand and sad, still alive and wanting to get out. ~ Susan Abulhawa,
1418:You care about her," I say with unexpected twang of envy. In my long-lost memories of us as children, it was always just the two of us. We 'got' each other on every level. Morpheus made me feel adored, special, important. I never considered him doing the same for someone else as a man. "Morpheus, what is she to you?"

He doesn't answer. Not aloud, anyway. His expression is hazy and troubled, and the jewels around his eyes twinkle from silver to black, like stars peering down on a storm-swept night. Alice's confession from the trial comes back to me: "Ivory was, in fact, very fond of Mr. Caterpillar." Judging by how Morpheus looked at the queen just now, by how she looked at him, he returned to her castle after his metamorphosis.

I imagine his elegant fingers tracing her skin, his soft lips on hers. That stab of envy evolves to something much uglier—a covetous twist of emotion I can't even put a name to. What's wrong with me? Why should i care about Morpheus's love life, when I finally kissed Jeb after all these years? ~ A G Howard,
1419:It took the rats a long time to realize they were better off not sprinting straight into the courtyard—rats are not known for their tactical sense. Really rats aren’t known for much, except for being numerous and dying easily. Or at least they died easily that day, even after they started taking cover in the surrounding buildings and trying to snipe at Barley. He was well positioned in the dark, and at this point the mounds of corpses he had made acted as cover. It took twenty minutes for one of the cleverer rodents to remember the heavy artillery, and another twenty to wheel one out from its position on the battlements. They wasted a lot of ammo finding the proper range, though they did a good job of destroying large sections of the castle. And in the meantime Barley continued his work, rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat. And to find an equal to his tally, to do that bloody arithmetic—if one was inclined to do so, if one’s mind ran in that sort of direction—one would have needed to compare him against disease, and time, and heartbreak. ~ Daniel Polansky,
1420:You’re the smartest girl I know. You can’t help knowing everything and being constantly brilliant—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I kissed her lips again, but after several moments, she pulled back slightly.

“Hey,” she murmured. “There are people in the house.”

“There are always people in the house,” I reminded her. “That’s why we escaped up here to the castle tower. Escape plan number . . . hell, I don’t know. I lost count. We haven’t had to come up with some dreamy escape plan in a while.”

Sydney trailed her fingers down the side of my face. “That’s because we’re living it, Adrian. This is the only escape plan we need.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow. I tried to put on a thoughtful, speculative expression. “Because there are things that could be tweaked. Like a bigger house. Or maybe—”

“Adrian,” she interrupted. “Didn’t you just say I’m brilliant and know everything? Then trust me on this.”

“Always,” I said, letting her pull me back down to her. “Always. ~ Richelle Mead,
1421:Del Ricci is, he’s prepared to act as Santa Claus an’ get the bleedin’ ship back for us.” His small leathery face was puckered with bewilderment as he shook his head and said, “Stands ter reason a bloke’d want payment for a thing like that, especially in this God-forsaken country. But there ain’t no point in our worrying about it like, is there? I mean, we ain’t got nothink to lose.” He was right there. The only thing I’d got to lose was my life—or my liberty if we were arrested for attempting to seize by force something that really belonged to us. I had no illusions about what was going to happen. The Little Octopus wasn’t taking an interest in us out of kindness. This was gang warfare and the party wasn’t likely to be a picnic. We were at the Castello Nuovo shortly before midnight. It was almost cool with a slight breeze coming in from the sea. The great square bulk of the castle crouched black against the moonlit waters of Naples Bay, and beyond it the dim outline of Vesuvius was raised towards the sky. I glanced down at Monique, ~ Hammond Innes,
1422:Gormenghast, that is, the main massing of the original stone, taken by itself would have displayed a certain ponderous architectural quality were it possible to have ignored the circumfusion of those mean dwellings that swarmed like an epidemic around its outer walls. They sprawled over the sloping arch, each one half way over its neighbour until, held back by the castle ramparts, the innermost of these hovels laid hold on the great walls, clamping themselves thereto like limpets to a rock. These dwellings, by ancient law, were granted this chill intimacy with the stronghold that loomed above them. Over their irregular roofs would fall throughout the seasons, the shadows of time-eaten buttresses, of broken and lofty turrets, and, most enormous of all, the shadow of the Tower of Flints. 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,
1423:Here's Grant," Logan said as they reached a large, hulking man at the end of the line. "You're going to meet him several times."
"What's all this, Captain?" Uneasy, the big man rubbed his shaved head with one palm and looked around. "Where are we now?"
Logan reached out and placed a firm hand on Grant's shoulder. "Be easy. We're back in Scotland, mo chariad. The war's over, and we're at Lannair Castle in Invernesshire."
The big man's eyes turned to Maddie. He looked at her as though he were struggling to focus. "Who's this lass?"
Maddie offered her hand. "I'm Madeline."
"This is your sweetheart?" Grant asked Logan. "The one what sent all the letters?"
Logan nodded. "I'm marrying her. Right now, as a matter of fact."
"Are ye?" The man stared at her for a moment, and then a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. Grinning, he dug his elbow into Logan's side. "You lucky bastard."
In that moment, Maddie knew one thing.
Private Malcolm Allan Grant was her new favorite person.

-Logan, Grant, & Maddie ~ Tessa Dare,
1424:There was a pub looking out over the graveyard. The Queen’s Arms, where Pünd had stayed, was actually called the King’s Head. The village noticeboard where Joy had posted her notice of infidelity was on one side of the square. The village shop and the bakery – it was called the Pump House – was on the other. The castle, which cast a shadow over Dr Redwing’s house, and which must have been built around the same time as the one I had seen in Framlingham, was a short distance away. There was even a Daphne Road. In the book it had been Neville Brent’s address but in the real world it was Alan’s sister who lived there. The house was very much as he had described it. I wondered what this meant. Claire Jenkins had been unable to see me the day before but had agreed to meet me at lunchtime. I got there early and strolled around the village, following the main road all the way down to the River Alde. The river doesn’t exist in Alan’s book – it’s been replaced by the main road to Bath. Pye Hall is somewhere over to the left, which would in ~ Anthony Horowitz,
1425:I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!”
“You thought you did,” said Harry, “but you were wrong.”
For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.
Dumbledore is dead!” Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as though they would cause him unendurable pain. “His body decays in the marble tomb in the gronds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!”
“Yes, Dumbledore’s dead,” said Harry calmly, “but you didn’t have him killed. He chose his own nature of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant.”
“What childish dream is this?” said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry’s.
“Severus Snape wasn’t yours,” said Harry. “Snape was Dumbledore’s, Dumbledore’s from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can’t understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle? ~ J K Rowling,
1426:Death In Battle
Open the gates for me,
Open the gates of the peaceful castle, rosy in the West,
In the sweet dim Isle of Apples over the wide sea’s breast,
Open the gates for me!
Sorely pressed have I been
And driven and hurt beyond bearing this summer day,
But the heat and the pain together suddenly fall away,
All’s cool and green.
But a moment agone,
Among men cursing in fight and toiling, blinded I fought,
But the labour passed on a sudden even as a passing thought,
And now—alone!
Ah, to be ever alone,
In flowery valleys among the mountains and silent wastes untrod,
In the dewy upland places, in the garden of God,
This would atone!
I shall not see
The brutal, crowded faces around me, that in their toil have grown
Into the faces of devils—yea, even as my own—
When I find thee,
O Country of Dreams!
Beyond the tide of the ocean, hidden and sunk away,
Out of the sound of battles, near to the end of day,
Full of dim woods and streams.
~ Clive Staples Lewis,
1427:This trade must stop.”
“I can take no responsibility for any such measure,” said Gumpas.
“Very well, then,” answered Caspian, “we relieve you of your office. My Lord Bern, come here.” And before Gumpas quite realized what was happening, Bern was kneeling with his hands between the King’s hands and taking the oath to govern the Lone Islands in accordance with the old customs, rights, usages and laws of Narnia. And Caspian said, “I think we have had enough of governors,” and made Bern a Duke, the Duke of the Lone Islands.
“As for you, my Lord,” he said to Gumpas, “I forgive you your debt for the tribute. But before noon tomorrow you and yours must be out of the castle, which is now the Duke’s residence.”
“Look here, this is all very well,” said one of Gumpas’s secretaries, “but suppose all you gentlemen stop play-acting and we do a little business. The question before us really is--”
“The question is,” said the Duke, “whether you and the rest of the rabble will leave without a flogging or with one. You may choose which you prefer. ~ C S Lewis,
1428:When Dad wasn’t telling us about all the amazing things he had already done, he was telling us about the wondrous things he was going to do. Like build the Glass Castle. All of Dad’s engineering skills and mathematical genius were coming together in one special project: a great big house he was going to build for us in the desert. It would have a glass ceiling and thick glass walls and even a glass staircase. The Glass Castle would have solar cells on the top that would catch the sun’s rays and convert them into electricity for heating and cooling and running all the appliances. It would even have its own water-purification system. Dad had worked out the architecture and the floor plans and most of the mathematical calculations. He carried around the blueprints for the Glass Castle wherever we went, and sometimes he’d pull them out and let us work on the design for our rooms. All we had to do was find gold, Dad said, and we were on the verge of that. Once he finished the Prospector and we struck it rich, he’d start work on our Glass Castle. ~ Jeannette Walls,
1429:Ballade Of Autumn
We built a castle in the air,
In summer weather, you and I,
The wind and sun were in your hair, Gold hair against a sapphire sky:
When Autumn came, with leaves that fly
Before the storm, across the plain,
You fled from me, with scarce a sigh My Love returns no more again!
The windy lights of Autumn flare:
I watch the moonlit sails go by;
I marvel how men toil and fare,
The weary business that they ply!
Their voyaging is vanity,
And fairy gold is all their gain,
And all the winds of winter cry,
'My Love returns no more again!'
Here, in my castle of Despair,
I sit alone with memory;
The wind-fed wolf has left his lair,
To keep the outcast company.
The brooding owl he hoots hard by,
The hare shall kindle on thy hearth-stane,
The Rhymer's soothest prophecy,-My Love returns no more again!
ENVOY.
Lady, my home until I die
Is here, where youth and hope were slain:
They flit, the ghosts of our July,
My Love returns no more again!
~ Andrew Lang,
1430:Their lives were precarious and they knew it. They were trying their best to fit themselves into a country which would never quite accept them, and to make themselves acceptable in a part of the world where their intrusion was resented in the vain hope that thus their establishments might endure ... The Orient remained strange and hostile. Unfamiliar diseases abounded. No one could be trusted. There was never security or peace for long. In any alley-way an assassin might be lurking, sent down from the Old Man of the Mountain. At any moment the lord might have to rise from his couch to ride out against enemy raiders. At any moment his lady might find herself in charge of the defence of her castle. At any moment the festivities might be interrupted by the sound of the infidel mangonels pounding against the walls. Life was merry, but it was short; and when the crisis came there was no lack of gallantry among the lords and ladies of Outremer. They had tasted with relish the gracious things of life; and they faced their doom with pride and resolution. ~ Steven Runciman,
1431:I am a harmless old seller of apples," she said, in a voice more appropriate for the opening of hostilities in a middle-range war. "Pray let me past, dearie." The last word had knives in it.
"No-one must enter the castle," said one of the guards. "Orders of the duke."
Granny shrugged. The apple-seller gambit had never worked more than once in the entire history of witchcraft, as far as she knew, but it was traditional.
"I know you, Champett Poldy," she said. "I recall I laid out your grandad and I brought you into the world." She glanced at the crowds, which had regathered a little way off, and turned back to the guard, whose face was already a mask of terror. She leaned a little closer, and said, "I gave you your first good hiding in this valley of tears and by all the gods if you cross me now I will give you your last."
There was a soft metallic noise as the spear fell out of the man's fearful fingers. Granny reached and gave the trembling man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"But don't worry about it," she added. "Have an apple. ~ Terry Pratchett,
1432:CAPT. J. W. SIMMONS, master of the steamship Pensacola, had just as little regard for weather as the Louisiana’s Captain Halsey. He was a veteran of eight hundred trips across the Gulf and commanded a staunch and sturdy ship, a 1,069-ton steel-hulled screw-driven steam freighter built twelve years earlier in West Hartlepool, England, and now owned by the Louisville and Nashville Railroad Company. Friday morning the ship was docked at the north end of 34th Street, in the company of scores of other ships, including the big Mallory liner Alamo, at 2,237 tons, and the usual large complement of British ships, which on Friday included the Comino, Hilarius, Kendal Castle, Mexican, Norna, Red Cross, Taunton, and the stately Roma in from Boston with its Captain Storms. As the Pensacola’s twenty-one-man crew readied the ship for its voyage to the city of Pensacola on Florida’s Gulf Coast, two men came aboard as Captain Simmons’s personal guests: a harbor pilot named R. T. Carroll and Galveston’s Pilot Commissioner J. M. O. Menard, from one of the city’s oldest families. At ~ Erik Larson,
1433:After a week's worth of failed fairy tales—stories that made my eyelids flutter open and not shut—my father tried telling me stories that belonged only to him. Thomas told me of an island off the coast of a different world. On this island, there stood a city whose buildings were made of glass. He told me that at the heart of this city was a forest with trees, ponds and a lake, swans and horses, and even a small castle. He told me that the streets of the city were filled with bright yellow cars that you hopped in and out of at will and that would take you wherever you wanted to go. In this city, there were sidewalks overflowing with people from the whole world over who wanted so much to be there. He told me of its neighborhoods, with names like Greenwich Village and Harlem and Chinatown. At the nucleus of these stories was my father, and spinning around him was the city of New York. Long before I would see them in photographs or in real life, my father had given me the white crown lights of the Chrysler Building and the shining needle of the Empire State. ~ Monique Truong,
1434:Are you afraid?" Volker questioned while sitting at the table and getting comfortable.
"No. But I have incredible luck with dice and I am ruthless. You will lose, gentlemen. I will destroy your lands, take your women, ravish your men, and make your children my slave labor. I will own every castle, house, and farm that is within my reach. I won't be satisfied until I own all of it and you. I will destroy you all, gentlemen, and, to be quite blunt, I don't think you can handle it."
Van covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud and he didn't dare look at his sister. Verner stepped back, motioning to the table. "Now I must insist."
"As you wish." Irene sighed and stood. She glanced at Van and gave him a quick wink before turning back to his uncle. "I do hope you're a 'sobber,' Mr. Van Holtz. Nothing I love more than the lamenting of the men I annihilate."

"I can't believe you made him cry."
"I did not. He just teared up a little."
"Yeah. I think it was when you told him, 'I now control your ports and own your manhood.'"
"His wife laughed. ~ Shelly Laurenston,
1435:The magicked dress danced over to the princess. Despite her misgivings, she stood up to receive it- it would have been rude not to. The dress easily smoothed itself over her. Dark green velvet skirts, full and soft, twirled around down to her ankles. Golden buttons fastened themselves up the placket on the bodice and over the elegant, tight sleeves. From her elbows, wisps of dark green mist flowed to the ground for tippets. A collar around her neck drifted out into a cape of the same material.
"Truly, you are the most beautiful princess in the world," a fairy breathed.
Aurora Rose looked at herself in the mirror of dewdrops. She was indeed the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Long neck, golden hair, wide violet eyes, narrow waist, lips perfectly pink and rosy.
She turned, just a little bit, to see how her figure looked from a different angle. The green velvet flowed softly and majestically, making delicious little noises when its folds rippled. As talented as the castle seamstresses were, the princess had never worn anything as elegant or perfect as this. ~ Liz Braswell,
1436:Golden Age
One of the voices
Always angelic It is about me, Sharply expresses itself :
Those thousand questions
Spreading their roots Bring in the end,
Only drunkenness and madness ;
Understand this trick
So gay, so easy :
It is only wave, only flower,
And that is your family !
Then it sings.
O So gay, so easy,
And visible to the naked eye... I sing with it, Understand this trick
So gay, so easy :
It is only wave, only flower,
And that is your family !... etc...
And then a voice How angelic it is ! - It is about me,
Sharply expresses itself :
And sings at this moment
Like a sister to breath :
With a German tone,
But ardent and full :
The world is vicious ;
If that surprises you !
Live and leave to the fire
Dark misfortune.
O ! pretty castle !
How bright your life is !
What age do you belong to,
63
Princely nature Of our elder brother ! etc...
I also sing : Many sisters ! voices
Not at all public ! Surround me
With chaste glory... etc...
~ Arthur Rimbaud,
1437:Father Explains
"There where that ray touches the plain
And the shadows escape as if they really ran,
Warsaw stands, open from all sides,
A city not very old but quite famous.
"Farther, where strings of rain hang from a little cloud,
Under the hills with an acacia grove
Is Prague. Above it, a marvelous castle
Shored against a slope in accordance with old rules.
"What divides this land with white foam
Is the Alps. The black means fir forests.
Beyond them, bathing in the yellow sun
Italy lies, like a deep-blue dish.
"Among the many fine cities that are there
You will recogni2e Rome, Christendom's capital,
By those round roofs on the church
Called the Basilica of Saint Peter.
"And there, to the north, beyond a bay,
Where a level bluish mist moves in waves,
Paris tries to keep pace with its tower
And reins in its herd of bridges.
"Also other cities accompany Paris,
They are adorned with glass, arrayed in iron,
But for today that would be too much,
I'll tell the rest another time
~ Czeslaw Milosz,
1438:Lullaby; By The Sea
Fair is the castle up on the hill-Hushaby, sweet my own!
The night is fair, and the waves are still,
And the wind is singing to you and to me
In this lowly home beside the sea-Hushaby, sweet my own!
On yonder hill is store of wealth-Hushaby, sweet my own!
And revellers drink to a little one's health;
But you and I bide night and day
For the other love that has sailed away-Hushaby, sweet my own!
See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep
Ghostlike, O my own!
Out of the mists of the murmuring deep;
Oh, see them not and make no cry
Till the angels of death have passed us by-Hushaby, sweet my own!
Ah, little they reck of you and me-Hushaby, sweet my own!
In our lonely home beside the sea;
They seek the castle up on the hill,
And there they will do their ghostly will-Hushaby, O my own!
Here by the sea a mother croons
"Hushaby, sweet my own!"
In yonder castle a mother swoons
While the angels go down to the misty deep,
Bearing a little one fast asleep-Hushaby, sweet my own!
~ Eugene Field,
1439:Where is he?” she demanded, though she wasn’t too worried about the answer. Paris and Zacharel were friends despite their differences, and Wrath had yet to make a peep.
“I took him to the castle and dropped him on the bridge.”
Reevaluation time. Paris and Zacharel were not friends on any level. Wrath, on the other hand, must think angels could do no wrong. “Why would you do that?” Sure, Paris would be carried inside and locked up. Sure, he would escape, and he would be fine. But none of that mattered to her just then. Fury rose, dark and hot and dangerous.
Calm down. Before she whipped out that crystal blade Paris had given her and went to town on angel flesh. She’d so had enough of males and their abuse of supernatural abilities.
Zacharel blinked as if the answer should be obvious to one and all. “That, as you called it, is what one male does to another when they are arguing.”
“No. No, it’s not.”
His lips edged down in the slightest of frowns. “That is what your Paris did to William of the Dark only this morn.”
Well, she had no comeback for that, did she? ~ Gena Showalter,
1440:Where is he?” she demanded, though she wasn’t too worried about the answer. Paris and Zacharel were friends despite their differences, and Wrath had yet to make a peep.
“I took him to the castle and dropped him on the bridge.”
Reevaluation time. Paris and Zacharel were not friends on any level. Wrath, on the other hand, must think angels could do no wrong. “Why would you do that?” Sure, Paris would be carried inside and locked up. Sure, he would escape, and he would be fine. But none of that mattered to her just then. Fury rose, dark and hot and dangerous.
Calm down. Before she whipped out that crystal blade Paris had given her and went to town on angel flesh. She’d so had enough of males and their abuse of supernatural abilities.
Zacharel blinked as if the answer should be obvious to one and all. “That, as you called it, is what one male does to another when they are arguing.”
“No. No, it’s not.���
His lips edged down in the slightest of frowns. “That is what your Paris did to William of the Dark only this morn.”
Well, she had no comeback for that, did she? ~ Gena Showalter,
1441:For the next hour, the subject of Pandora's board game business was discarded as the group worked on the sandcastle. They paused at intervals to drink thirstily from jugs of cold water and lemonade that had been sent down from the house. Pandora threw herself into the project with enthusiasm, consulting with Justin, who had decided the castle must have a moat, square corner towers, a front gatehouse with a drawbridge, and battlement walls from which the occupants could drop scalding water or molten tar onto the advancing enemy.
Gabriel, who'd been instructed to dig the moat, stole frequent glances at Pandora, who had enough energy for ten people. Her face glowed beneath her battered straw hat, which she had managed to pry away from Ajax. She was sweaty and covered in sand, a few escaped locks of hair trailing over her neck and back. She played with the unselfconscious ease of a child, this woman of radical thoughts and ambitions. She was beautiful. Complex. Frustrating. He'd never met a woman who was so wholly and resolutely herself.
What the devil was he going to do about her? ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1442:One of Brown’s best monograph sketches, for example, narrates the tragedy of Charles Stull, a deaf and mute man from Philadelphia who decided to cross the Oregon Trail, alone and on foot, during the peak emigration year of 1852. Stull died of cholera at Castle Creek, just west of Ash Hollow. He was found by the members of a passing wagon train, who examined his body and found $2.75 in his pockets, along with a certificate attesting to his graduation from the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf and Dumb in Philadelphia. I learned from Brown’s account how crowded the trail was that year, and new details about the cholera plagues. Brown also portrayed how early-nineteenth-century educators and philanthropists founded schools for the deaf and circulated beautifully illustrated pamphlets on sign language. Stull was an exemplary product of that era. He was one of the first students at the Philadelphia school for the deaf, and he and his brother, an engraver, published one of the first sign-language manuals, an illustrated broadsheet titled An Alphabet for the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb. The ~ Rinker Buck,
1443:After a few moments, her eyes became as glossy as his and she also spoke in complete nonsense. “Who are you?” Mother Goose asked the caterpillar. “What I am,” he said. “Where are you?” she said. “Here with you,” the caterpillar said. “And if this were the Castle of Hearts?” Mother Goose asked. “We’d be there,” he said. “But where?” she asked. “In the castle,” he said. “Ah, so there would be here,” she said, and they nodded together. “Here would be what’s left.” The caterpillar nodded. “Am I what’s left?” she asked. “You’re what’s right, of course.” “But what’s right is wrong.” “And what’s left is right.” “I understand completely,” Mother Goose said. “Thank you so much, Mr. Caterpillar.” The others stared at them absolutely dumbfounded. Mother Goose hopped down from the mushroom and moseyed back to them. “The caterpillar said to go back to the fork and take a left,” she said. “He did?” Alex asked. “It’s all about the keywords,” Mother Goose said. “I used to be friends with a sultan who enjoyed the hookah, too. Lester, I’m going to need you to carry me the rest of the way – I’m awfully tired. ~ Chris Colfer,
1444:The Barn
They should never have built a barn there, at all Drip, drip, drip! - under that elm tree,
Though when it was young. Now it is old
But good, not like the barn and me.
To-morrow they cut it down. They will leave
The barn, as I shall be left, maybe.
What holds it up? 'Twould not pay to pull down.
Well, this place has no other antiquity.
No abbey or castle looks so old
As this that Job Knight built in '54,
Built to keep corn for rats and men.
Now there's fowls in the roof, pigs on the floor.
What thatch survives is dung for the grass,
The best grass on the farm. A pity the roof
Will not bear a mower to mow it. But
Only fowls have foothold enough.
Starlings used to sit there with bubbling throats
Making a spiky beard as they chattered
And whistled and kissed, with heads in air,
Till they thought of something else that mattered.
But now they cannot find a place,
Among all those holes, for a nest any more.
It's the turn of lesser things, I suppose.
Once I fancied 'twas starlings they built it for.
~ Edward Thomas,
1445:Shuffle-Shoon And Amber-Locks
Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks
Sit together, building blocks;
Shuffle-Shoon is old and grey,
Amber-Locks a little child,
But together at their play
Age and Youth are reconciled,
And with sympathetic glee
Build their castles fair to see.
"When I grow to be a man"
(So the wee one's prattle ran),
"I shall build a castle so-With a gateway broad and grand;
Here a pretty vine shall grow,
There a soldier guard shall stand;
And the tower shall be so high,
Folks will wonder, by-and-by!"
Shuffle-Shoon quoth: "Yes, I know;
Thus I builded long ago!
Here a gate and there a wall,
Here a window, there a door;
Here a steeple wondrous tall
Riseth ever more and more!
But the years have levelled low
What I builded long ago!"
So they gossip at their play,
Heedless of the fleeting day;
One speaks of the Long Ago
Where his dead hopes buried lie;
One with chubby cheeks aglow
Prattleth of the By-and-By;
Side by side, they build their blocks-Shuffle-Shoon and Amber-Locks.
~ Eugene Field,
1446:We’ll burn those old clothes, my lady--they’re ruined.” And she pointed to where she’d laid out a long, heavy cotton shirt, and one of the blue and black-and-white tunics, and a pair of leggings. Renselaeus’s colors.
“I don’t mind putting that dress back on, dirty or not,” I said. “I’m used to dirt.”
She gave me a friendly shrug but shook her head. “Orders.”
I considered that as I rinsed the last of the sandsoap from my hair and twisted it to get the water out. Orders from whom? Once again my mind filled with recent memories. More awake now, I knew that the rescue at Chovilun had been no dream. Was it possible that the Marquis had seen the justice of our cause and had switched sides? The escort, the humane treatment--surely that meant I was being sent home. Once again I felt relief and gratitude. As soon as I got to the castle I’d write a fine letter of thanks. No, I’d get Oria to write down my words, I decided, picturing the elegant Marquis. At least as embarrassing as had been the idea of waking up in his arms again was the idea of his trying to read my terrible handwriting and worse spelling. ~ Sherwood Smith,
1447:When we remember we are queens from another kingdom, then the kings in this one will wake up at last and honor our presence and open the gates. We won't storm the castle walls; we will melt the castle walls. Kings will then set a table for us to feast at instead of tossing us bones. They will recognize us when we recognize ourselves. We come bearing gifts from another realm. We bring illumination when our minds are illuminated. We are only visiting here, but our visit is an honor, a mitzvah, and the entire earth kingdom is blessed by our presence. Wake up, damn it, and thank the stars. We have been playing so small and the crown is so huge. We will not wear it until we expand our heads.

Don't your get it? Can't you see? As we change our minds, we will change the world. And until we do, we will remain where we are. And all the laws and all the bashing and all the silly, childish, petty political arguments will continue for years, and for more years beyond, until women remember, followed by men, that a woman is a miracle and her heart lies in God. She is here to love God, passionately and truly... ~ Marianne Williamson,
1448:The Great Fires"

Love is apart from all things.
Desire and excitement are nothing beside it.
It is not the body that finds love.
What leads us there is the body.
What is not love provokes it.
What is not love quenches it.
Love lays hold of everything we know.
The passions which are called love
also change everything to a newness
at first. Passion is clearly the path
but does not bring us to love.
It opens the castle of our spirit
so that we might find the love which is
a mystery hidden there.
Love is one of many great fires.
Passion is a fire made of many woods,
each of which gives off its special odor
so we can know the many kinds
that are not love. Passion is the paper
and twigs that kindle the flames
but cannot sustain them. Desire perishes
because it tries to be love.
Love is eaten away by appetite.
Love does not last, but it is different
from the passions that do not last.
Love lasts by not lasting.
Isaiah said each man walks in his own fire
for his sins. Love allows us to walk
in the sweet music of our particular heart. ~ Jack Gilbert,
1449:I have to tell you about these things from the past, because they are so important. The really important things usually lie in the distant past. And until you know about them, if you'll forgive my saying so, you will always to some extent a mere newcomer in my life.

When I was at High School my favourite pastime was walking. Or rather, loitering. If we are talking about my adolescence, it's the more accurate word. Systematically, one by one, I explored all the districts of Pest. I relished the special atmosphere of every quarter and every street. Even now I can still find the same delight in houses that I did then. In this respect I've never grown up. Houses have so much to say to me. For me, they are what Nature used to be to the poets - or rather, what the poets thought of as Nature.

But best of all I loved the Castle Hill District of Buda. I never tired of its ancient streets. Even in those days old things attracted me more than new ones. For me the deepest truth was found only in things suffused with the lives of many generations, which hold the past as permanently as mason Kelemen's wife buried in the high tower of Deva. ~ Antal Szerb,
1450:Because I write women’s history I rarely have the luxury of a full and fair biography to study. Until about 1960 there were very few histories written about women at all, and often I am faced with a blank or—worse—with an unfair condemnation of the woman. Tracing Elizabeth of York’s life was often speculation, and sometimes I found myself simply rebelling against the picture that the medieval chroniclers tried to force on the real woman; those who spoke of her “truly wonderful obedience.” Clearly, we cannot believe that she was only the passive pawn of Tudor ambition, a baby-making machine who chose a married motto of “Humble and penitent” when she had been raised by a rebel, was a princess of royal blood, and her own motto before marriage was “Sans removyr” which means (surely defiantly?) “unmoving” or “unchanging.” A young woman of eighteen, who has witnessed her father driven from the throne and restored, her mother give birth in prison, her brother disappear from his own castle, who has engaged in an adulterous love affair with the king while betrothed to his enemy, and who claims the defiant motto “unchanging” is not anyone’s pawn! ~ Philippa Gregory,
1451:All eyes flew to the entrance.
A great gray stallion reared up in the doorway, its breath frosting the air with puffs of steam. It was a scene from every fairy-tale romance she'd ever read: the handsome prince bursting into the castle astride a magnificent stallion, ablaze with desire and honor as he'd declared his undying love before all and sundry. Her heart swelled with joy.
Then her brow puckered as she scrutinized her "prince." Well, it was almost like a fairy tale. Except this prince was dressed in nothing but a drenched and muddy tartan with blood on his face and hands and war braids plaited at his temples. Although determination glittered in his gaze, a declaration of undying love didn't appear to be his first priority.
"Jillian!" he roared.
Her knees buckled. His voice brought her violently to life. Everything in the room receded and there was only Grimm, blue eyes blazing, his massive frame filling the doorway. He was majestic, towering, and ruthless. Here was her fierce warrior ready to battle the world to gain her love.
He urged Occam into the crowd, making his way toward the altar.
"Grimm," she whispered. ~ Karen Marie Moning,
1452:We actually build castles all the time, out of our jobs and our families and the things we've purchased. Sometimes we even make them out of each other. Some of these castles are impressive too. Lots of people come to admire what we've built over the course of our lives and tell us what great castles we have. But Jesus told His friends we weren't supposed to spend our lives building castles. He said He wanted us to build a kingdom, and there's a big difference between building a castle and building a kingdom.

You see, castles have moats to keep creepy people out, but kingdoms have bridges to let everyone in. Castles have dungeons for people who have messed up, and kingdoms have grace. There's one last thing castles have–trolls. You've probably met a couple. I have too. Trolls aren't bad people; they're just people I don't really understand. Here's the deal: it's how we treat the trolls in our lives that will let us know how far along we are in our faith. It we want a kingdom, then we start the way grace did, by drawing a circle around everyone and saying they're in. Kingdoms are built from the people up. There's no set of plans-just Jesus. ~ Bob Goff,
1453:The old intergenerational give-and-take of the country-that-used-to-be, when everyone knew his role and took the rules dead seriously, the acculturating back-and-forth that all of us here grew up with, the ritual post-immigrant struggle for success turning pathological in, of all places, the gentleman farmer's castle of our superordinary Swede (a character). A guy stacked like a deck of cards for things to unfold entirely differently. In no way prepared for what is going to hit him. How could he, with all his carefully calibrated goodness, have known that the stakes of living obediently were so high? Obedience is embraced to lower the stakes. A beautiful wife. A beautiful house. Runs his business like a charm... This is how successful people live. They're good citizens. They feel lucky. They feel grateful. God is smiling down on them. There are problems, they adjust. And then everything changes and it becomes impossible. Nothing is smiling down on anybody. And who can adjust then? Here is someone not set up for life's working out poorly, let alone for the impossible. ... the tragedy of the man not set up for tragedy -- that is every man's tragedy. ~ Philip Roth,
1454:Perched in the briars above your head is a raven, black and sleek as the curlicued moustache of the guardsman. The raven looks at you and you look back at it. "I'm looking for someone," you say. "A boy named Kay."
The raven opens its big beak and says, "He doesn't love you, you know."
You shrug. You've never liked talking animals. Once your lover gave you a talking cat, but it ran away and secretly you were glad. "I have a few things I want to say to him, that's all." You have, in fact, been keeping a list of all the things you are going to say to him. "Besides, I wanted to see the world, be a tourist for a while."
"That's fine for some," the raven says. Then he relents. "If you'd like to come in, then come in. The princess just married the boy with the boots that squeaked on the marble floor."
"That's fine for some," you say. Kay's boots squeak; you wonder how he met the princess, if he is the one that she just married, how the raven knows that he doesn't love you, what this princess has that you don't have, besides a white sleigh pulled by thirty geese, an impenetrable wall of briars, and maybe a castle. She's probably just some bimbo. ~ Kelly Link,
1455:A Fine Sight
I reckon the finest sight of all
That a man can see in this world of ours
Ain't the works of art on the gallery wall,
Or the red an' white o' the fust spring flowers,
Or a hoard o' gold from the yellow mines;
But the' sight that'll make ye want t' yell
Is t' catch a glimpse o' the fust pink signs
In yer baby's cheek, that she's gittin' well.
When ye see the pink jes' a-creepin' back
T' the pale, drawn cheek, an' ye note a smile,
Then th' cords o' yer heart that were tight, grow slack
An' ye jump fer joy every little while,
An' ye tiptoe back to her little bed
As though ye doubted yer eyes, or were
Afraid it was fever come back instead,
An' ye found that th' pink still blossomed there.
Ye've watched fer that smile an' that bit o' bloom
With a heavy heart fer weeks an' weeks;
An' a castle o' joy becomes that room
When ye glimpse th' pink 'in yer baby's cheeks.
An' out o' yer breast flies a weight o' care,
An' ye're lifted up by some magic spell,
An' yer heart jes' naturally beats a prayer
O' joy to the Lord 'cause she's gittin' well.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
1456:Do you ever think what might've happened if they weren't so damn impatient? If Romeo had stopped for a second and gotten a doctor, or waited for Juliet to wake up? Not jumped to conclusions and gone and poisoned himself thinking she was dead when she was just sleeping? I've seen that movie so many times, and every damn time, it's like screaming at the girl in the horror movie. Don't go in the basement. The killer's down there. With Romeo and Juliet, I yell, 'Don't jump to conclusions.' But do those fools ever listen to me? I always imagine what might've happened if they'd waited. Juliet would've woken up. They'd already be married. They might've moved away, far away from the Montagues and the Capulets, gotten themselves a cute castle of their own. Decorated it up nice. Maybe it would've been like The Winter's Tale. By thinking Hermione was dead, Leontes had time to stop acting like a fool and then later he was so happy to find out she was alive. Maybe the Montagues and the Capulets would find out later that their beloved kids weren't dead, and wasn't it stupid to feud, and everyone would be happy. Maybe it would've turned the whole tragedy into a comedy. ~ Gayle Forman,
1457:This is the story of a boy named Pete Coutinho, who had a spell put on him. Some people might have called it a curse. I don't know. It depends on a lot of things, on whether you've got gipsy blood, like old Beatriz Sousa, who learned a lot about magic from the wild gitana tribe in the mountains beyond Lisbon, and whether you're satisfied with a fisherman's life in Cabrillo.

Not that a fisherman's life is a bad one, far from it. By day you go out in the boats that rock smoothly across the blue Gulf waters, and at night you can listen to music and drink wine at the Shore Haven or the Castle or any of the other taverns on Front Street. What more do you want? What more is there?

And what does any sensible man, or any sensible boy, want with that sorcerous sort of glamor that can make everything incredibly bright and shining, deepening colors till they hurt, while wild music swings down from stars that have turned strange and alive? Pete shouldn't have wanted that, I suppose, but he did, and probably that's why there happened to him - what did happen. And the trouble began long before the actual magic started working.

("Before I Wake...") ~ Henry Kuttner,
1458:In the twelfth century, the vast wealth of Weinsberg Castle lay in peril.15 Enemy forces besieged the stone fortress and threatened the riches that lay within. The inhabitants stood no chance of defending themselves against such a great horde, and the opposing forces demanded a full and complete surrender. If the occupants would agree to give up their wealth and the men would give up their lives, the women and children would be spared. After consultation, the women of Weinsberg Castle asked for one provision: they asked to leave with as many possessions as they could carry. If the opposing forces would agree to this one request, the men inside would lay down their arms and hand over the castle’s riches. Fully aware of the wealth of riches loaded within the castle, the enemy forces agreed. After all, how much could these women take? Finally, the castle gates opened, and the sight that emerged elicited tears from even the most calloused soldiers. Every woman carried her husband on her back. How many of those rescued men were perfect? Not one. But every one of those imperfect men meant more to their wives than anything they owned. Where is your greatest wealth? ~ Gary L Thomas,
1459: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,
1460:The Castle
All through that summer at ease we lay,
And daily from the turret wall
We watched the mowers in the hay
And the enemy half a mile away
They seemed no threat to us at all.
For what, we thought, had we to fear
With our arms and provender, load on load,
Our towering battlements, tier on tier,
And friendly allies drawing near
On every leafy summer road.
Our gates were strong, our walls were thick,
So smooth and high, no man could win
A foothold there, no clever trick
Could take us, have us dead or quick.
Only a bird could have got in.
What could they offer us for bait?
Our captain was brave and we were true....
There was a little private gate,
A little wicked wicket gate.
The wizened warder let them through.
Oh then our maze of tunneled stone
Grew thin and treacherous as air.
The cause was lost without a groan,
The famous citadel overthrown,
And all its secret galleries bare.
How can this shameful tale be told?
I will maintain until my death
We could do nothing, being sold;
Our only enemy was gold,
And we had no arms to fight it with.
~ Edwin Muir,
1461:Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Tumnus,” said Lucy.
“And may I ask, O Lucy, Daughter of Eve,” said Mr. Tumnus, “how you have come into Narnia?”
“Narnia?” What’s that?” said Lucy.
“This is the land of Narnia,” said the Faun, “where we are now; all that lies between the lamppost and the great castle of Cair Paravel on the Eastern Sea. And you--you have come from the wild woods of the west?”
“I--I got in through the wardrobe in the spare room,” said Lucy.
“Ah,” said Mr. Tumnus in a rather melancholy voice, “if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now.”
“But they aren’t countries at all,” said Lucy, almost laughing. “It’s only just back there--at least--I’m not sure. It is summer there.”
“Meanwhile,” said Mr. Tumnus, “it is winter in Narnia, and has been for ever so long, and we shall both catch cold if we stand here talking in the snow. Daughter of Eve from the far land of Spare Oom where eternal summer reigns around the bright city of War Drobe, how would it be if you came and had tea with me? ~ C S Lewis,
1462:Some thoughts on heaven? I have this theory that heaven is different for everyone. It has to be, or it wouldn’t be heaven. My grandmother’s heaven? In her heaven she doesn’t have to share the remote with anyone, and it is Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune on all the time, with nary a rerun ever, and the old lady always wins the big money and a trip to Europe to tour a castle or somewhere warm but not too hot with nice churches. In her heaven your knees don’t hurt and your back doesn’t hurt and you get to be whatever age was your favourite age to be and you still have all your teeth and there are bingo games right after dinner and raspberry hard candies and no one ever has to do the dishes. In my gran’s heaven, you can still have yourself a proper smoke in the living room and it doesn’t ruin the new paint job and the lawn never gets too long and the foxes don’t chase the birds off the birdfeeder. In her heaven, a nice bit of cheese won’t give you the bad stomach and real men don’t beat their wives or fuck their children, and every day is payday, and the Friday of a long weekend. Floors wax themselves, but you still get to hang the laundry, but only if you feel like it. ~ Ivan E Coyote,
1463:To help him through mine school, Frank had borrowed some money from his brother Reef, who in those days was known for promoting quick cash out of the air. “Don’t know when I can pay this back, old Reefer.” “Whenever that is, if I’m still alive, that would be payback enough for me, so don’t worry.” As usual, Reef wasn’t thinking that closely about what he was saying, finding it in fact impossible to imagine any kind of a future in which being dead was preferable to living. Part of the same rooster-in-the-morn attitude that kept him winning at games of chance. Or winning enough. Or he thought it did. One day out of the usual nowhere, Reef showed up in Golden to find Frank with his nose in a metallurgy book. “I have a chore to run, sort of romantic chore, nothing too difficult, you want to come along?” “Where to? Being’s I’ve got this exam?” Flapping the book pages at his brother for emphasis. “Well you look like you could use a break. Why don’t we go up Castle Rock to that amusement park and have us a few beers.” Why didn’t they? Frank had no idea. Next thing he knew it was daytime again, Reef had squared everything with the Professor, and they were headed for Nevada. ~ Thomas Pynchon,
1464:After almost two hours, the phone rang. I could guess who it was.
"Hello, Blix," I said before he could say anything. "Adding kidnapping to your long list of felonies?"
"We prefer to think of it as 'vacationing at the specific invitation of His Majesty," replied Blix. "Open the top drawer of the bureau."
I did so, and found a contract for Kazam to concede the competition, with all the details that Blix had already outlined. The document had been prepared by a law firm in Financia and registered with the Ununited Kingdoms Supreme Court, so even if King Snodd had wanted to reverse the deal, he couldn't.
"It's all there," said Blix. "I knew my or the King's word wouldn't be good enough, so I made it official. Sign it and your vacation in the North Tower is over."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you'll stay there until six Mondays from now, and we'll have Kazam for nothing."
"Blix?"
"Yes?"
"Are you in the castle watching the top of the North Tower at the moment?"
"I might be."
I ripped the phone from the wall and tossed it out the open window. The telephone took almost five seconds to hit the ground. It was a pointless gesture, but very satisfying. ~ Jasper Fforde,
1465:WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN? The lessons of market history are clear. Styles and fashions in investors’ evaluations of securities can and often do play a critical role in the pricing of securities. The stock market at times conforms well to the castle-in-the-air theory. For this reason, the game of investing can be extremely dangerous. Another lesson that cries out for attention is that investors should be very wary of purchasing today’s hot “new issue.” Most initial public offerings underperform the stock market as a whole. And if you buy the new issue after it begins trading, usually at a higher price, you are even more certain to lose. Investors would be well advised to treat new issues with a healthy dose of skepticism. Certainly investors in the past have built many castles in the air with IPOs. Remember that the major sellers of the stock of IPOs are the managers of the companies themselves. They try to time their sales to coincide with a peak in the prosperity of their companies or with the height of investor enthusiasm for some current fad. In such cases, the urge to get on the bandwagon—even in high-growth industries—produced a profitless prosperity for investors. ~ Burton G Malkiel,
1466:then things got even stranger.
Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.
"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.
Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.
With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tourement day.
Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.
My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.
She snarled, "Die, honey!"
And she flew straight at me.
Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally:I swung the sword.
The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed through her body as if she were made made of water. Hisss!
Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. ~ Rick Riordan,
1467:Don't even consider it, young lady."
Ariel raised an eyebrow at him incredulously. Young lady? In the years that had passed since the duel with the sea witch, she had aged. Not dramatically, but far more than a mostly immortal mermaid should have. There was something about her eyes- they were deeper, wiser, and wearier than when she was a young mer who had never been on dry land. Her cheeks weren't quite as plump anymore; the angles of her face were more pronounced. Sometimes she wondered if she looked like her mother... aside from her own unreliable memories, the only physical evidence of the former queen was a statue in the castle of her and Triton dancing together. But it was all pale milky marble, no colors at all. Dead.
Ariel's hair no longer flowed behind her as it once had; handmaidens and decorator crabs kept it braided and coiffed, snug and businesslike under the great golden crown that sat on her temples, like the gods wore. Small gold and aquamarine earrings sparkled regally but didn't tinkle; they were quite understated and professional. Her only real nod to youth was the golden ring in the upper part of her left ear.
"Young lady," indeed. ~ Liz Braswell,
1468:Is it fair to call The Princess Bride a classic? The storybook story about pirates and princesses, giants and wizards, Cliffs of Insanity and Rodents of Unusual Size? It's certainly one of the most often quoted films in cinema history, with lines like:
"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
"Inconceivable?"
"Anybody want a peanut?"
"Have fun storming the castle."
"Never get involved in a land war in Asia."
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."
"Rest well, and dream of large women."
"I hate for people to die embarrassed."
"Please consider me as an alternative to suicide."
"This is true love. You think this happens every day?"
"Get used to disappointment."
"I'm not a witch. I'm your wife."
"Mawidege. That bwessed awangement."
"You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you."... You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die."
"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."
"Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line!"
"There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours."
And of course...
"As you wish. ~ Cary Elwes,
1469:Gwenvael looked down at his body. Horrified, he sat up. “What is this? What’s happened to me?”
“Calm down. It’ll heal quick enough, I’m sure.”
“Heal? I’m hideous!”
“You’re alive.”
“Hideously alive!” He covered her face with his hands. “Don’t look at me! Look away!”
“Stop it!” She pulled at his hands. “Have you lost your mind?”

Gwenvael dropped back to the bed, turned his face toward the wall. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Gwenvael—”
“I’ll have to live alone, at the top of a castle somewhere. I’ll hide from the daylight and only come out at night.”
“Please stop this.”
“I’ll be alone but not for long because you’ll all want me more. You’ll lust for the beautiful warrior I once was and pity the hideous creature I’ve become. Most importantly, you’ll want to soothe my pain.” He looked at her again. “Don’t you want to soothe my pain? Right now? Without that dress on?”
“No. I do not.”
Dagmar tried to stand, and Gwenvael caught her hand, pulling her back down. “You can’t leave me. I’m tortured and brooding. You need to show me how much you adore me so I can learn to love myself again.”
“You’ve never stopped loving yourself.”
“Because I’m amazing. ~ G A Aiken,
1470:INTERVIEWER

Why don’t you write tragedy?

BARTHELME

I’m fated to deal in mixtures, slumgullions, which preclude tragedy, which require a pure line. It’s a habit of mind, a perversity. Tom Hess used to tell a story, maybe from Lewis Carroll, I don’t remember, about an enraged mob storming the palace shouting “More taxes! Less bread!” As soon as I hear a proposition I immediately consider its opposite. A double-minded man—makes for mixtures.

INTERVIEWER

Apparently the Yiddish theater, to which Kafka was very addicted, includes as a typical bit of comedy two clowns, more or less identical, who appear even in sad scenes—the parting of two lovers, for instance—and behave comically as the audience is weeping. This shows up especially in The Castle.

BARTHELME

The assistants.

INTERVIEWER

And the audience doesn’t know what to do.

BARTHELME

The confusing signals, the impurity of the signal, gives you verisimilitude. As when you attend a funeral and notice, against your will, that it’s being poorly done. [...] I think of the line from the German writer Heimito von Doderer: “At first you break windows. Then you become a window yourself. ~ Donald Barthelme,
1471:Nothing—and I mean really, absolutely nothing—is more extraordinary in Britain than the beauty of the countryside. Nowhere in the world is there a landscape that has been more intensively utilized—more mined, farmed, quarried, covered with cities and clanging factories, threaded with motorways and railroad tracks—and yet remains so comprehensively and reliably lovely over most of its extent. It is the happiest accident in history. In terms of natural wonders, you know, Britain is a pretty unspectacular place. It has no alpine peaks or broad rift valleys, no mighty gorges or thundering cataracts. It is built to really quite a modest scale. And yet with a few unassuming natural endowments, a great deal of time, and an unfailing instinct for improvement, the makers of Britain created the most superlatively park-like landscapes, the most orderly cities, the handsomest provincial towns, the jauntiest seaside resorts, the stateliest homes, the most dreamily-spired, cathedral-rich, castle-strewn, abbey-bedecked, folly-scattered, green-wooded, winding-laned, sheep-dotted, plumply-hedgerowed, well-tended, sublimely decorated 88,386 square miles the world has ever known—almost none of it undertaken with aesthetics ~ Bill Bryson,
1472:A German admiral, Henning von Holtzendorff, came up with a plan so irresistible it succeeded in bringing agreement between supporters and opponents of unrestricted warfare. By turning Germany’s U-boats loose, and allowing their captains to sink every vessel that entered the “war zone,” Holtzendorff proposed to end the war in six months. Not five, not seven, but six. He calculated that for the plan to succeed, it had to begin on February 1, 1917, not a day later. Whether or not the campaign drew America into the war didn’t matter, he argued, for the war would be over before American forces could be mobilized. The plan, like its territorial equivalent, the Schlieffen plan, was a model of methodical German thinking, though no one seemed to recognize that it too embodied a large measure of self-delusion. Holtzendorff bragged, “I guarantee upon my word as a naval officer that no American will set foot on the Continent!” Germany’s top civilian and military leaders converged on Kaiser Wilhelm’s castle at Pless on January 8, 1917, to consider the plan, and the next evening Wilhelm, in his role as supreme military commander, signed an order to put it into action, a decision that would prove one of the most fateful of the war. ~ Erik Larson,
1473:Now,” said Voldemort, “we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag the body? No--Wait--”
There was a fresh outbreak of laughter, and after a few moments Harry felt the ground trembling beneath him.
“You carry him,” Voldemort said. “He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And the glasses--put on the glasses--he must be recognizable--”
Someone slammed Harry’s glasses back onto his face with deliberate force, but the enormous hands that lifted him into the air were exceedingly gentle. Harry could feel Hagrid’s arms trembling with the force of his heaving sobs; great tears splashed down upon him as Hagrid cradled Harry in his arms, and Harry did not dare, by movement or word, to intimate to Hagrid that all was not, yet, lost.
“Move,” said Voldemort, and Hagrid stumbled forward, forcing his way through the close-growing trees, back through the forest. Branches caught at Harry’s hair and robes, but he lay quiescent, his mouth lolling open, his eyes shut, and in the darkness, while the Death Eaters crowed all around them, and while Hagrid sobbed blindly, nobody looked to see whether a pulse beat in the exposed neck of Harry Potter… ~ J K Rowling,
1474:What Rangers do, or more correctly, what Rangers’ apprentices do, is the housework.”
Will had a sinking feeling as the suspicion struck him that he’d made a tactical error. “The…housework?” he repeated. Halt nodded, looking distinctly pleased with himself.
“That’s right. Take a look around.” He paused, gesturing around the interior of the cabin for Will to do as he suggested, then continued, “See ay servants?”
“No, sir,” Will said slowly.
“No sir indeed!” Halt said. “Because this isn’t a mighty castle with a staff of servants. This is a lowly cabin. And it has water to be fetched and firewood to be chopped and floors to be swept and rugs to be beaten. And who do you suppose might do all those things, boy?”
Will tried to think of some answer other than the one which now seemed inevitable. Nothing came to mind, so he finally said, in a defeated tone, “Would that be me, sir?”
“I believe it would be,” the Ranger told him, then rattled off a list of instructions crisply. “Bucket there. Barrel outside the door. Water in the river. Ax in the lean-to, firewood behind the cabin. Broom by the door and I believe you can probably see where the floor might be?”
“Yes, sir,” said Will, beginning to roll up his sleeves. ~ John Flanagan,
1475:The Christmas Spirit
IT'S HO for the holly and laughter and kisses,
It 's ho for the mistletoe bough in the hall!
Was ever a season so jolly as this is?
No, this is the jolliest one of them all.
The season of loving and giving and dancing,
The season of mirth and of hearts that are true,
The season of eyes most bewitching, entrancing —
It's ho, Merry Christmas! A welcome to you.
With loved ones about us to laugh at our follies,
The patter of feet in the hallways above,
A ring at the door — now deserted are dollies —
All rush to greet callers and shower them with love.
What turbulent romping! Was ever such shouting
So dear to the heart and so sweet to the ear?
Away with all fretting, repining and doubting,
Ye, ho, for the Christmas so brim full of cheer.
Away with you, Trouble! Our armor of gladness
You can't penetrate with your arrows of fear;
Away with you, Sorrow! Away with you, Sadness!
Our walls are defended this morning by Cheer.
A fig for your frowning, Old Gloom, and your grouching,
No pessimist enters our castle today;
And should to our doorway a Kill-Joy come slouching,
We've sentries of Cheer who will drive him away.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
1476:Her departure left no traces but were speedily repaired by the coming of spring. The sun growing warmer, and the close season putting an end to the Marquess's hunting, it was now Odo's chief pleasure to carry his books to the walled garden between the castle and the southern face of the cliff. This small enclosure, probably a survival of medieval horticulture, had along the upper ledge of its wall a grass walk commanding the flow of the stream, and an angle turret that turned one slit to the valley, the other to the garden lying below like a tranquil well of scent and brightness: its box trees clipped to the shape of peacocks and lions, its clove pinks and simples set in a border of thrift, and a pear tree basking on its sunny wall. These pleasant spaces, which Odo had to himself save when the canonesses walked there to recite their rosary, he peopled with the knights and ladies of the novelle, and the fantastic beings of Pulci's epic: there walked the Fay Morgana, Regulus the loyal knight, the giant Morgante, Trajan the just Emperor and the proud figure of King Conrad; so that, escaping thither from the after-dinner dullness of the tapestry parlour, the boy seemed to pass from the most oppressive solitude to a world of warmth and fellowship. ~ Edith Wharton,
1477:Pandora launched into a detailed account of her conversation with the hermit crab, reporting that his name was Shelley, after the poet, whose works he admired. He was a well-traveled crustacean, having flown to distant lands while clinging to the pink leg of a herring gull who had no taste for shellfish, preferring hazelnuts and bread crumbs. One day, the herring gull, who possessed the transmigrated soul of an Elizabethan stage actor, had taken Shelley to see Hamlet at the Drury Lane theater. During the performance, they had alighted on the scenery and played the part of a castle gargoyle for the entire second act. Shelley had enjoyed the experience but had no wish to pursue a theatrical career, as the hot stage lights had nearly fricasseed him.
Gabriel stopped digging and listened, transported by the wonder and whimsy of Pandora's imagination. Out of thin air, she created a fantasy world in which animals could talk and anything was possible. He was charmed out of all reason as he watched her, this sandy, disheveled, storytelling mermaid, who seemed already to belong to him and yet wanted nothing to do with him. His heart worked in strange rhythms, as if it were struggling to adjust to a brand new metronome.
What was happening to him? ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1478:Breathing Under Water,” a title taken from a telling poem by Carol Bieleck, r.s.c.j., which seemed to sum up so much of the common message. I quote it here in full:   “Breathing Under Water”   I built my house by the sea. Not on the sands, mind you; not on the shifting sand. And I built it of rock. A strong house by a strong sea. And we got well acquainted, the sea and I. Good neighbors. Not that we spoke much. We met in silences. Respectful, keeping our distance, but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand. Always, the fence of sand our barrier, always, the sand between.   And then one day, —and I still don’t know how it happened— the sea came. Without warning.   Without welcome, even Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand like wine, less like the flow of water than the flow of blood. Slow, but coming. Slow, but flowing like an open wound. And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning and I thought of death. And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it reached my door. And I knew then, there was neither flight, nor death, nor drowning. That when the sea comes calling you stop being neighbors Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance, neighbors And you give your house for a coral castle, And you learn to breathe underwater.3 ~ Richard Rohr,
1479:That night I retreated for the last time to the mountain peaks behind the castle and roamed along moonlit paths in the cool end-of-winter air. In the distance I heard the harpwinds, but this time I saw no one. The harps thrummed their weird threnodies, and from peak to peak reed pipes sounded, clear as winged creatures riding on the air, until the night was filled with the songs of approaching spring, and life, and freedom.
The music quieted my restlessness and buoyed me up with joy. I climbed the white stone peak at Elios and looked down at the castle, silhouetted silvery against the darker peaks in the distance. The air was clear, and I could see on the highest tower a tiny human figure, hatless, his long dark cloak belling and waving, and star-touched pale hair tangling in the wind.
In silence I watched the still figure as music filled the valley between us and drifted into eternity on the night air.
The big moon was high overhead when, one by one, the pipes played a last melody, and at last the music stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in the trees.
It was time to return, for we would depart early in order to get off the mountain before nightfall. When at last I reached the courtyard and looked up at the tower, no one was there. ~ Sherwood Smith,
1480:I am short, so I like the little guy/underdog stories, but they are not straightforwardly about one size versus another. Think about, say, Jack and the Beanstalk, which is basically a big ugly stupid giant, and a smart little Jack who is fast on his feet. OK, but the unstable element is the beanstalk, which starts as a bean and grows into a huge tree-like thing that Jack climbs to reach the castle. This bridge between two worlds is unpredictable and very surprising. And later, when the giant tries to climb after Jack, the beanstalk has to be chopped down pronto. This suggests to me that the pursuit of happiness, which we may as well call life, is full of surprising temporary elements -- we get somewhere we couldn't go otherwise and we profit from the trip, but we can't stay there, it isn't our world, and we shouldn't let that world come crashing down into the one we can inhabit. The beanstalk has to be chopped down. But the large-scale riches from the 'other world' can be brought into ours, just as Jack makes off with the singing harp and the golden hen. Whatever we 'win' will accommodate itself to our size and form -- just as the miniature princesses and the frog princes all assume the true form necessary for their coming life, and ours.

Size does matter. ~ Jeanette Winterson,
1481:So it began. It ended as it always does, with such things; he had a full pleasure-chamber and flagellary, the Duc de Morhban, and he took me there, in the cool depths of the earth beneath his castle at the outermost edge of Terre d’Ange, setting the torches ablaze until it might as well have been Kushiel’s domain, wringing me limp with blood and sweat, his face distorted behind the lash, and the sound of my own voice, begging, pleading, as he rode me at the end, bestriding me like a colossus. He used flechettes, too. I hadn’t counted on that. A thousand deaths, of agony and pleasure, I died there in Quincel de Morhban’s chamber. He was good, better almost than any patron I had known, when at last he laid civility aside for violent pleasure, the mask of lust obscuring his features. He was a Kusheline, it was in his blood. He wanted—oh, Elua, he wanted!—to hear me give the signale. If he gave up his questions, it was for that, waiting. And if I had given it, I would have answered. But I had given the signale to one patron only, who had sundered me from myself. Quincel de Morhban could command me, shuddering, to give up my very flesh, quivering in abject climax. He could, and he did, snarling with victory. Not my signale. And in the end, his exhaustion defeated us both. ~ Jacqueline Carey,
1482:I have never created anything in my life that did not make me feel, at some point or another, like I was the guy who just walked into a fancy ball wearing a homemade lobster costume. But you must stubbornly walk into that room, regardless, and you must hold your head high. You made it; you get to put it out there. Never apologize for it, never explain it away, never be ashamed of it. You did your best with what you knew, and you worked with what you had, in the time that you were given. You were invited, and you showed up, and you simply cannot do more that that. They might throw you out - but then again, they might not. They probably won't throw you out, actually. The ballroom is often more welcoming and supportive than you could ever imagine. Somebody might even think you're brilliant and marvelous. You might end up dancing with royalty. Or you might just end up having to dance alone in the corner of the castle with your big, ungainly red foam claws waving in the empty air. that's fine, too. Sometimes it's like that. What you absolutely must not do is turn around and walk out. Otherwise, you will miss the party, and that would be a pity, because - please believe me - we did not come all this great distance, and make all this great effort, only to miss the party at the last moment. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert,
1483:Dread flooded Harry at the sound of the words. . . . He turned and looked. There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building . . . wherever they had murdered. . . . “When did it appear?” asked Dumbledore, and his hand clenched painfully upon Harry’s shoulder as he struggled to his feet. “Must have been minutes ago, it wasn’t there when I put the cat out, but when I got upstairs —” “We need to return to the castle at once,” said Dumbledore. “Rosmerta” — and though he staggered a little, he seemed wholly in command of the situation — “we need transport — brooms —” “I’ve got a couple behind the bar,” she said, looking very frightened. “Shall I run and fetch — ?” “No, Harry can do it.” Harry raised his wand at once. “Accio Rosmerta’s Brooms!” A second later they heard a loud bang as the front door of the pub burst open; two brooms had shot out into the street and were racing each other to Harry’s side, where they stopped dead, quivering slightly at waist height. “Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry,” said Dumbledore, as he mounted the broom nearest him. “It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong. . . . Harry, put on your Invisibility ~ J K Rowling,
1484:Blaire, do ye remember the time ye shot me in the arse? Did ye really think it necessary? All I did was tell ye that you could no come down to the village with me and Arran.” He turned to watch her closely, hoping she would correct him. He knew why she’d really shot him. His father had spent what seemed like half a day explaining to him why he was never to speak to a lady in such a hurtful way ever again.  “Nay, Eoin. That isn’t why I shot ye, that day. I shot ye because ye told me I was the ugliest lass that ye’d ever seen, and ye’d rather kiss Griffin’s arse than be married to me someday. It was the summer we walked in on our fathers discussing the betrothal.”  “Aye. That’s right. I do apologize, Blaire. I was young and foolish. At that age, I’d rather have kissed Griffin’s arse than any lass.” He laughed, thinking himself foolish for giving Arran’s notion any thought.  As they reached the castle grounds and Eoin stashed their equipment away, he thought of one last question as Bri turned to make her way up to her room in the castle. “I canna remember which ear it is that yer father canna hear from. Which is it?” “It’s his right.”  As she turned and walked inside the castle, Eoin felt his heart drop into the deepest depths of his stomach.  He knew it had always been her father’s left ear. ~ Bethany Claire,
1485:A different serving boy came out with a basket of steaming hot bread and, in the Gaulic fashion, little tubs of sweet butter. Eric preferred olive oil, but along with all the other terrible things going on in the castle, Vanessa had embraced Gaulic culture with the tacky enthusiasm of a true nouveau riche.
"I do so love baguettes, my dear, sweet, Mad Prince. Don't you?" she said with a sigh, picking up a piece and buttering it carefully. "You know, we don't have them where I come from."
"Really? Where you come from? What country on Earth doesn't have some form of bread? Tell me. Please, I'd like to know."
"Well, we don't have a grand tradition of baking, in general," she said, opening her mouth wider and wider. Then, all the while looking directly at Eric, she carefully pushed the entire slice in. She chewed, forcefully, largely, and expressively. He could see whole lumps of bread being pushed around her mouth and up against her cheeks.
The prince threw his own baguette back down on the plate in disgust.
She grinned, mouth still working.
"Your appetite is healthy, despite your cold," he growled. "Healthy for a longshoreman. Where do you put it all? You never- seem- to- gain- a -pound."
"Running the castle keeps one trim," she answered modestly. ~ Liz Braswell,
1486:There was a pause in which Harry glared at her, and her eyes filled slowly with tears. “You didn’t mean that,” said Harry quietly. “No . . . well . . . all right . . . I didn’t,” she said, wiping her eyes angrily. “But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself — for us?” “I dunno —” Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn’t let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King . . . “And I wish they’d stop singing that stupid song,” said Hermione miserably, “haven’t they gloated enough?” A great tide of students was moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch. “Oh, let’s get in before we have to meet the Slytherins,” said Hermione. Weasley can save anything, He never leaves a single ring, That’s why Gryffindors all sing: Weasley is our King. “Hermione . . .” said Harry slowly. The song was growing louder, but it was issuing not from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Slytherins, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly toward the castle, which was bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders. . . . Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn’t let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King . . . “No!” said Hermione in a hushed voice. “YES!” said Harry loudly. “HARRY! HERMIONE!” yelled Ron, waving the silver Quidditch Cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. “WE DID IT! WE ~ J K Rowling,
1487:I have an announcement,” her father said, brandishing a sheaf of official-looking papers. “Since Bramwell has failed to muster the appropriate enthusiasm, I thought I would share the good news with you, his friends.” He adjusted his spectacles. “In honor of his valor and contributions in the liberation of Portugal, Bramwell has been made an earl. I have here the letters patent from the Prince Regent himself. He will henceforth be known as Lord Rycliff.”
Susanna choked on her tea. “What? Lord Rycliff? But that title is extinct. There hasn’t been an Earl of Rycliff since…”
“Since 1354. Precisely. The title has lain dormant for nearly five centuries. When I wrote to him emphasizing Bramwell’s contributions, the Prince Regent was glad of my suggestion to revive it.”
A powder blast in the Red Salon could not have stunned Susanna more. Her gaze darted to the officer in question. For a man elevated to the peerage, he didn’t look happy about it, either.
“Good God,” Payne remarked. “An earl? This can’t be borne. As if it weren’t bad enough that he controls my fortune, my cousin now outranks me. Just what does this earldom include, anyhow?”
“Not much besides the honor of the title. No real lands to speak of, except for the-“
“The castle,” Susanna finished, her voice remote.
Her castle. ~ Tessa Dare,
1488:A maiden? Out here? And scented with festering carcasses?” Vladamir searched the forest that surrounded his castle. The hum of insects was quite clear on the morning air, and he noticed that the red bristled pigs grazing just beyond his walls were undisturbed. Nor could he detect movement within the barren limbs of the trees. Finally satisfied that the girl was alone, he turned his attention back to Ulric. He refused to show any interest in the maiden.
“Wake her and send her on her way.” He kept his voice passionless and made no effort to help the woman. “If she is dead, burn her, for I won’t tolerate that wretched smell in my bailey.”
“Should we not try to find out who she is first? Mayhap there are those who search fer her even now. Would you deny her kinsmen a proper burial?” Ulric protested quietly.
“Do as I command!” Vladamir insisted in a low growl. Even as he did so, he saw the knights that manned the wall look over the girl with curious stares. He heard their whispering as it drifted down, though he couldn’t make out their hasty words. He didn’t need to. The woman was more than likely a Saxon wench and they would wish to know whom, for none in the manor were missing. If she was dead, there was nothing he could do for her. He didn’t need this headache. His life was stressed enough. ~ Michelle M Pillow,
1489:I
Set in their studious comers, the players
Move the gradual pieces. Until dawn
The chessboard keeps them in its strict confinement
With its two colors set at daggers drawn.
Within the game itself the forms give off
Their magic rules: Homeric castle, knight
Swift to attack, queen warlike, king decisive,
Slanted bishop, and attacking pawns.
Eventually, when the players have withdrawn,
When time itself has finally consumed them,
The ritual certainly will not be done.
It was in the East this war took fire.
Today the whole earth is its theater.
Like the game of love, this game goes on forever.

II
Faint-hearted king, sly bishop, ruthless queen,
Straightforward castle, and deceitful pawn
Over the checkered black and white terrain
They seek out and begin their armed campaign.
They do not know it is the players hand
That dominates and guides their destiny.
They do not know an adamantine fate
Controls their will and lays the battle plan.

The player too is captive of caprice
(The words are Omars) on another ground
Where black nights alternate with whiter days.
God moves the player, he in turn the piece.
But what god beyond God begins the round
Of dust and time and sleep and agonies?
[Alastair Reid ]
~ Jorge Luis Borges, Chess
,
1490:I don't think I could ever see her closely," the sentinel replied, "however close she came." His own voice was hushed and regretful, echoing with lost chances. "She has a newness," he said. "Everything is for the first time. See how she moves, how she walks, how she turns her head -- all for the first time, the first time anyone has ever done these things. See how she draws her breath and lets it go again, as though no one else in the world knew that air was good. It is all for her. If I learned that she had been born this very morning, I would only be surprised that she was so old." The second sentinel stared down from his tower at the three wanderers. The tall man saw him first, and next the dour woman. Their eyes reflected nothing but his armor, grim and cankered and empty. But then the girl in the ruined black cloak raised her head, and he stepped back from the parapet, putting out one tin glove against her glance. In a moment she passed into the shadow of the castle with her companions, and he lowered his hand. "She may be mad," he said calmly. "No grown girl looks like that unless she is mad. That would be annoying, but far preferable to the remaining possibility." "Which is?" the younger man prompted after a silence.
"Which is that she was indeed born this morning. I would rather that she were mad. ~ Peter S Beagle,
1491:This is how you must do it, people. I have never created anything in my life that did not make me feel, at some point or another, like I was the guy who just walked into a fancy ball wearing a homemade lobster costume. But you must stubbornly walk into that room, regardless, and you must hold your head high. You made it; you get to put it out there. Never apologize for it, never explain it away, never be ashamed of it. You did your best with what you knew, and you worked with what you had, in the time that you were given. You were invited, and you showed up, and you simply cannot do more than that. They might throw you out - but then again, they might not. They probably won't throw you out, actually. The ballroom is often more welcoming and supportive than you could ever imagine. Somebody might even think you're brilliant and marvelous. You might end up dancing with royalty. Or you might end up just having to dance alone in the corner of the castle with your big, ungainly red foam claws waving in the empty air. That's fine, too. Sometimes it's like that. What you must not do is turn around and walk out. Otherwise you will miss the party, and that would be a pity because, - please believe me - we did not come all this great distance, and make all this great effort, only to miss the party at the last moment. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert,
1492:Pulling his wet shirt over his head, Bram headed for the bathing chamber, pausing as he passed a mirror and getting a glimpse of his reflection—the glimpse reminding him of something he had no idea how to address. Lifting up the patch that covered his eye, he directed his attention to Stanley again. “Why didn’t anyone mention to me that I was wearing this before I charged out of the castle?” Stanley scratched his head. “Begging your pardon, sir, but since your vision has to be obscured while wearing that patch, I assumed you knew you were wearing it. Quite honestly, I thought you kept it on in order to appear more intimidating. You know—a pirate look, if you will.” “I had to admit to Miss Plum that there’s nothing wrong with my eye.” “And . . . that was difficult for you, sir?” “Do you know how odd she must find me now, learning that I run about with a patch over a perfectly good eye?” “She wouldn’t find you odd if you just told her the truth.” “I can’t tell her the truth—or anyone else for that matter. Why, it would kill my mother if she found out.” “Now you’re being a little overly theatrical, sir. But speaking of theatrics, you could tell Miss Plum that you were trying to get into the role you’ll be expected to play later on this week during the theatrical event your mother is hosting here at Ravenwood.” “Mother’s ~ Jen Turano,
1493:Gilan,” she said, “you’re looking well.” And apart from those wrinkles, he was.
He smiled at her. “And you grow more beautiful every day, Pauline,” he replied.
“What about me?” Halt said, with mock severity. “Do I grow more handsome every day? More impressive, perhaps?”
Gilan eyed him critically, his head to one side. Then he announced his verdict.
“Scruffier,” he said.
Halt raised his eyebrows. “’Scruffier’?” he demanded.
Gilan nodded. I’m not sure if you’re aware of recent advances in technology, Halt,” he said. “But there a wonderful new invention called scissors. People use them for trimming beards and hair.”
“Why?”
Gilan appealed to Pauline. “Still using his saxe knife to do his barbering, is he?”
Pauline nodded, slipping her hand inside her husband’s arm. “Unless I can catch him at it,” she admitted. Halt regarded them both with a withering look. They both refused to wither, so he abandoned the expression.
“You show a fine lack of respect for your former mentor,” he told Gilan.
The younger man shrugged. “It goes with my exalted position as your commander.”
“Not mine,” Halt said. “I’ve retired.”
“So I can expect little in the way of deference from you?” Gilan grinned.
“No. I’ll show proper deference….the day you train your horse to fly back around the castle’s turrets. ~ John Flanagan,
1494:Nothing – and I mean, really, absolutely nothing – is more extraordinary in Britain than the beauty of the countryside. Nowhere in the world is there a landscape that has been more intensively utilized – more mined, farmed, quarried, covered with cities and clanging factories, threaded with motorways and railway lines – and yet remains so comprehensively and reliably lovely over most of its extent. It is the happiest accident in history. In terms of natural wonders, you know, Britain is a pretty unspectacular place. It has no alpine peaks or broad rift valleys, no mighty gorges or thundering cataracts. It is built to really quite a modest scale. And yet with a few unassuming natural endowments, a great deal of time and an unfailing instinct for improvement, the makers of Britain created the most superlatively park-like landscapes, the most orderly cities, the handsomest provincial towns, the jauntiest seaside resorts, the stateliest homes, the most dreamily spired, cathedral-rich, castle-strewn, abbey-bedecked, folly-scattered, green-wooded, winding-laned, sheep-dotted, plumply hedgerowed, well-tended, sublimely decorated 88,386 square miles the world has ever known – almost none of it undertaken with aesthetics in mind, but all of it adding up to something that is, quite often, perfect. What an achievement that is. And ~ Bill Bryson,
1495:Get out of here, all of you," I continued. "This grave has been paid for by me and it belongs to nobody else. I died and am allowed to organize my funeral as I
see fit. So, begone! My home is my castle and I will not tolerate any trespassers."

"It's a scandal!" cried the decorated one. "A scandal without precedent!"

A Public Prosecutor turned to me. "These inanities should be called to a halt," he hissed. "I arrest you in the name of the law, and I command the policemen to do their duty!"

The policemen descended into the hole and placed their broad paws on my shoulder. But I looked at them sharply and said: "Have you no respect for the dead?"

"But he is not dead! This is a complete sham!" a particularly brave Judge's apprentice cried out.

"Ah, I beg your pardon!" I laughed, handing over my death certificate to the policemen. "Here, see for yourself. And in case the coroner's report is not sufficient you can always have a whiff, old donkey that you are."

The decorated one leaned towards me. "The devil!" he exclaimed, hastily drawing back.

"Please keep your distance, Sir," I admonished him. "Do I have to remind you of your whereabouts? It is a red-hot day in July, close to noon and you are in the presence of a corpse. I have every right to stink!"

"My Burial ~ Hanns Heinz Ewers,
1496:Beauty always made a target of its possessor. Every other human quality was hidden easily enough --- intelligence, talent, selfishness, even madness --- but beauty could not be concealed.

"Do you ever wish you didn't look the way you did?" Anita asked.

"All the time," Misery said. "I hate the way I look."

[...]

"No, I didn't mean like that. I just meant---"

"Having to be afraid," Eliza said.

"Yeah."

No need to say more. No need to describe all the things you had to do to keep the eyes away. No need to discuss how hard it was to get the attention of the person you wanted attention from without being seen as desperate for everyone's attention. No need to catalog all the walls you had to put up; not just the walls that protected you from physical danger --- though there were plenty of those, too --- but the walls you had to build around your heart. They said no man was an island, and Anita figured that was probably true. But women were; they had to be. And even if someone bothered to sail over ad disembark, he'd soon discover that there was always a castle at the center of the island, surrounded by a deep moat, with a rickety drawbridge and archers manning the battlements and a big pot of oil poised above the gate, ready to boil alive anyone who dared to cross the threshold. ~ Tommy Wallach,
1497:The Great Journalist In Spain
Good editor Dana-God bless him, we sayWill soon be afloat on the main,
Will be steaming away
Through the mist and the spray
To the sensuous climate of Spain.
Strange sights shall he see in that beautiful land
Which is famed for its soap and its Moor,
For, as we understand,
The scenery is grand
Though the system of railways is poor.
For moonlight of silver and sunlight of gold
Glint the orchards of lemons and mangoes,
And the ladies, we're told,
Are a joy to behold
As they twine in their lissome fandangoes.
What though our friend Dana shall twang a guitar
And murmur a passionate strain;
Oh, fairer by far
Than those ravishments are
The castles abounding in Spain.
These castles are built as the builder may listThey are sometimes of marble or stone,
But they mostly consist
Of east wind and mist
With an ivy of froth overgrown.
A beautiful castle our Dana shall raise
On a futile foundation of hope,
And its glories shall blaze
In the somnolent haze
Of the mythical lake del y Soap.
The fragrance of sunflowers shall swoon on the air
And the visions of Dreamland obtain,
And the song of 'World's Fair'
335
Shall be heard everywhere
Through that beautiful castle in Spain.
~ Eugene Field,
1498:Mr St. John entered the little telegraph office, gave in his message, and was exchanging a few words with the clerk, when a female voice was heard speaking in hurried accents. Frederick at the moment was behind the partition unseen by the newcomer.

'Young man, can I send a telegram off at once? It's in a hurry?'

'You can send a telegram,' responded the clerk. 'Where's it to?'

'Paris.'

'What's the message?'

'I've written it down, so that there may be no mistake. It's quite private, and must be kept so: a little matter that concerns nobody. And be particular, for it's from Castle Wafer. Will it reach Paris tonight?'

'Yes,' said the clerk, confidentially, as he counted the words.

'How much to pay?'

'Twelve-and-sixpence.'

'Twelve-and-sixpence! What a swindle.'

'You needn't pay it if you don't like.'

'But then the telegram would not go?'

'Of course it wouldn't.'

The sound of silver dashed down on the counter was heard. 'I can't stop to argue the charge, so I must pay it,' grumbled the voice. 'But it's a shame, young man.'

'The charges ain't of my fixing,' responded the young man. 'Good afternoon, ma'am.'

She bustled out again as hurriedly as she had come in, not having suspected that the wooden partition had any one behind it. ~ Mrs Henry Wood,
1499:The Table And The Chair
Said the Table to the Chair,
'You can hardly be aware
How I suffer from the heat,
And from chilblains on my feet!
If we took a little walk,
We might have a little talk!
Pray let us take the air!'
Said the Table to the Chair.
Said the Chair unto the Table,
'Now you know we are not able!
How foolishly you talk,
When you know we cannot walk!'
Said the Table with a sigh,
'It can do no harm to try;
I've as many legs as you;
Why can't we walk on two?'
So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound,
As they toddled round and round.
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to their side,
'See! the Table and the Chair
Have come out to take the air!'
But, in going down an alley
To a castle in the valley,
They completely lost their way,
And wandered all the day
Till, to see them safely back,
They paid a Ducky-quack,
And a Beetle, and a Mouse,
Who took them to their house.
Then they whispered to each other,
'O delightful little brother!
What a lovely walk we've taken!
188
Let us dine on Beans and Bacon!'
So the Ducky and the leetle
Browny-Mousy and the Beetle
Dined, and danced upon their heads
Till they toddled to their beds.
~ Edward Lear,
1500:Who can ignore that the Olympians of the new bourgeois aristocracy no longer inhabit. They go from grand hotel to grand hotel, or from castle to castle, commanding a fleet or a country from a yacht. They are everywhere and nowhere. That is how they fascinate people immersed into everyday life. They transcend everyday life, possess nature and leave it up to the cops to contrive culture. Is it essential to describe at length, besides the condition of youth, students and intellectuals, armies of workers with or without white collars, people from the provinces, the colonized and semi-colonized of all sorts, all those who endure a well-organized daily life, is it here necessary to exhibit the derisory and untragic misery of the inhabitant, of the suburban dweller and of the people who stay in residential ghettoes, in the mouldering centres of old cities and in the proliferations lost beyond them? One only has to open one's eyes to understand the daily life of the one who runs from his dwelling to the station, near or far away, to the packed underground train, the office or the factory, to return the same way in the evening and come home to recuperate enough to start again the next day. The picture of this generalized misery would not go without a picture of 'satisfactions' which hides it and becomes the means to elude it and break free from it. ~ Henri Lefebvre,

IN CHAPTERS [173/173]



   76 Poetry
   26 Fiction
   14 Integral Yoga
   13 Occultism
   12 Psychology
   3 Philsophy
   3 Mythology
   2 Philosophy
   2 Mysticism
   2 Christianity
   1 Islam
   1 Education
   1 Alchemy


   19 William Wordsworth
   15 Percy Bysshe Shelley
   13 H P Lovecraft
   12 Saint Teresa of Avila
   11 Robert Browning
   9 John Keats
   8 Nolini Kanta Gupta
   7 Carl Jung
   6 The Mother
   5 Sri Aurobindo
   5 Jorge Luis Borges
   4 Walt Whitman
   4 James George Frazer
   4 Aleister Crowley
   3 Satprem
   3 Ralph Waldo Emerson
   3 Li Bai
   3 Joseph Campbell
   3 Jordan Peterson
   2 William Butler Yeats
   2 Ken Wilber
   2 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
   2 Italo Calvino
   2 Friedrich Schiller
   2 Friedrich Nietzsche
   2 Edgar Allan Poe


   19 Wordsworth - Poems
   15 Shelley - Poems
   13 Lovecraft - Poems
   11 Browning - Poems
   10 The Interior Castle or The Mansions
   9 Keats - Poems
   5 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
   4 Whitman - Poems
   4 The Golden Bough
   4 The Divine Comedy
   4 The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious
   4 Magick Without Tears
   3 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
   3 Maps of Meaning
   3 Li Bai - Poems
   3 Emerson - Poems
   2 Yeats - Poems
   2 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
   2 The Way of Perfection
   2 The Castle of Crossed Destinies
   2 Sex Ecology Spirituality
   2 Schiller - Poems
   2 Labyrinths
   2 Faust
   2 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02


0.00a - Introduction, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
  It is ironic that a period of the most tremendous technological advancement known to recorded history should also be labeled the Age of Anxiety. Reams have been written about modern man's frenzied search for his soul-and, indeed, his doubt that he even has one at a time when, like castles built on sand, so many of his cherished theories, long mistaken for verities, are crumbling about his bewildered brain.
  The age-old advice, "Know thyself," is more imperative than ever. The tempo of science has accelerated to such a degree that today's discoveries frequently make yesterday's equations obsolescent almost before they can be chalked up on a blackboard. Small wonder, then that every other hospital bed is occupied by a mental patient. Man was not constructed to spend his life at a crossroads, one of which leads he knows not where, and the other to threatened annihilation of his species.

0 1962-02-06, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Perhaps the problem is the opposition (if it is an opposition) between two attitudes, both of which should express our relationship with the Supreme. One is the acceptancenot only voluntary but perfectly contentof everything, even the worst calamities (what are conventionally called the worst calamities). I wont use this story as an example because its self-explanatory, but if Andromeda were a yogi (with ifs you can build castles in the air, but I am trying to explain what I mean), she would accept the idea of death readily, easily. Well, its precisely this conflict between an attitude quite ready to accept death (I am not talking about what happens in the story itself, but merely giving a case in point to make myself clear) because it is the divine Will, for this reason aloneits the divine Will, so its quite all right; since thats how it is, its quite all rightand at the same time, the love of Life. This love of Life.3 Following the story, you would say: she lived because she had to live and everything is explained. But thats not what I mean. I am looking at this outside the context of the story.
   Because things like that happen in the consciousness of. It always bothers me to get into big ideas and big words, but to truly explain myself, I should say: the Universal Mother.

0 1963-07-13, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes. And also they are too aware of being intelligent. Theyre imprisoned in intellectual castles!
   I almost felt like sending my blessings to your publisher. If he began to understand, it would be fun!

0 1970-03-25, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   He has a lot of money sunk in lands, castles and so on, and lie says, I could leave all this in the hands of a financial organization and see what happens, or should I look after it myself, sell it all off, and then come to the Ashram?
   (after a silence)

02.03 - The Shakespearean Word, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   We know that almost no paraphernalia are really needed to present a Shakespearean drama on the stage. His magical, all powerful words are sufficient to do the work of the decorative artist. The magic of the articulate word, the mere sound depicts, not only depicts but carries you and puts you face to face with the living reality. I will give you three examples to show how Shakespeare wields his Prosperian wand. First I take the lines from Macbeth, that present before you the castle of Duncan, almost physicallyperhaps even a little more than physicallywith its characteristic setting and atmosphere:
   Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
   Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses.

02.06 - Boris Pasternak, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   The portrait of the late poet (for he is more of a poet than a novelist, as has been pointed out) on the cover of the British edition of his novel Dr. Zhivago seems to be the very image of the tragic hero. Indeed he reminds one of Hamlet as he stood on the ramparts of the castle of Elsinore. Curiously, the very first poem in the collection at the end of that book is entitled "Hamlet" and the significant cry rings out of it:
   Abba, Father, if it be possible

07.05 - The Finding of the Soul, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  In the castle of the lotus twixt the brows
  Whence it shoots the arrows of its sight and will,

1.01 - Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  saw on a mountain a kind of castle of the Grail. He went along
  a road that seemed to lead straight to the foot of the mountain

1.01 - Description of the Castle, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  object:1.01 - Description of the castle
  author class:Saint Teresa of Avila
  --
  THE FIRST MANSIONS:Chapter I. Description of the castle
  CHAPTER I.THIS CHAPTER TREATS OF THE BEAUTY AND DIGNITY OF OUR SOULS AND MAKES A COMPARISON TO EXPLAIN THIS. THE ADVANTAGE OF KNOWING AND UNDERSTANDING THIS AND THE FAVOURS GOD GRANTS TO US IS SHOWN, AND HOW PRAYER IS THE GATE OF THE SPIRITUAL castle.
    1. Plan of this book. 2. The Interior castle. 3. Our curable self ignorance. 4. God dwells in the centre of the soul. 5. Why all souls do not receive certain favours. 6. Reasons for speaking of these favours. 7. The entrance of the castle. 8. Entering into oneself. 9. Prayer. 10. Those who dwell in the first mansion. 11. Entering. 12. Difficulties of the subject.
  1.: WHILE I was begging our Lord to-day to speak for me, since I knew not what to say nor how to commence this work which obedience has laid upon me, an idea occurred to me which I will explain, and which will serve as a foundation for that I am about to write.
  2.: I thought of the soul as resembling a castle,1' formed of a single diamond or a very transparent crystal,2' and containing many rooms, just as in heaven there are many mansions.3' If we reflect, sisters, we shall see that the soul of the just man is but a paradise, in which, God tells us, He takes His delight.4' What, do you imagine, must that dwelling be in which a King so mighty, so wise, and so pure, containing in Himself all good, can delight to rest? Nothing can be compared to the great beauty and capabilities of a soul; however keen our intellects may be, they are as unable to comprehend them as to comprehend God, for, as He has told us, He created us in His own image and likeness.5
  3.: As this is so, we need not tire ourselves by trying to realize all the beauty of this castle, although, being His creature, there is all the difference between the soul and God that there is between the creature and the Creator; the fact that it is made in God's image teaches us how great are its dignity and loveliness. It is no small misfortune and disgrace that, through our own fault, we neither understand our nature nor our origin. Would it not be gross ignorance, my daughters, if, when a man was questioned about his name, or country, or parents, he could not answer? Stupid as this would be, it is unspeakably more foolish to care to learn nothing of our nature except that we possess bodies, and only to realize vaguely that we have souls, because people say so and it is a doctrine of faith. Rarely do we reflect upon what gifts our souls may possess, Who dwells within them, or how extremely precious they are. Therefore we do little to preserve their beauty; all our care is concentrated on our bodies, which are but the coarse setting of the diamond, or the outer walls of the castle.6
  4.: Let us imagine, as I said, that there are many rooms in this castle, of which some are above, some below, others at the side; in the centre, in the very midst of them all, is the principal chamber in which God and the soul hold their most secret intercourse.7' Think over this comparison very carefully; God grant it may enlighten you about the different kinds of graces He is pleased to bestow upon the soul. No one can know all about them, much less a person so ignorant as I am. The knowledge that such things are possible will console you greatly should our Lord ever grant you any of these favours; people themselves deprived of them can then at least praise Him for His great goodness in bestowing them on others. The thought of heaven and the happiness of the saints does us no harm, but cheers and urges us to win this joy for ourselves, nor will it injure us to know that during this exile God can communicate Himself to us loathsome worms; it will rather make us love Him for such immense goodness and infinite mercy.
  5.: I feel sure that vexation at thinking that during our life on earth God can bestow these graces on the souls of others shows a want of humility and charity for one's neighbour, for why should we not feel glad at a brother's receiving divine favours which do not deprive us of our own share? Should we not rather rejoice at His Majesty's thus manifesting His greatness wherever He chooses?8' Sometimes our Lord acts thus solely for the sake of showing His power, as He declared when the Apostles questioned whether the blind man whom He cured had been suffering for his own or his parents' sins.9' God does not bestow soul speaks of that sovereign grace of God in taking it into the house of His love, which is the union or transformation of love in God . . . The cellar is the highest degree of love to which the soul can attain in this life, and is therefore said to be the inner. It follows from this that there are other cellars not so interior; that is, the degrees of love by which souls reach to this, the last. These cellars are seven in number, and the soul has entered them all when it has in perfection the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, so far as it is possible for it. . . . Many souls reach and enter the first cellar, each according to the perfection of its love, but the last and inmost cellar is entered by few in this world, because therein is wrought the perfect union with God, the union of the spiritual marriage.' A Spiritual Canticle, stanza xxvi. 1-3. Concept. ch. vi. (Minor Works of St. Teresa.) these favours on certain souls because they are more holy than others who do not receive them, but to manifest His greatness, as in the case of St. Paul and St. Mary Magdalen, and that we may glorify Him in His creatures.
  --
  7.: Now let us return to our beautiful and charming castle and discover how to enter it. This appears incongruous: if this castle is the soul, clearly no one can have to enter it, for it is the person himself: one might as well tell some one to go into a room he is already in! There are, however, very different ways of being in this castle; many souls live in the courtyard of the building where the sentinels stand, neither caring to enter farther, nor to know who dwells in that most delightful place, what is in it and what rooms it contains.
  8.: Certain books on prayer that you have read advise the soul to enter into itself,10' and this is what I mean. I was recently told by a great theologian that souls without prayer are like bodies, palsied and lame, having hands and feet they cannot use.' Just so, there are souls so infirm and accustomed to think of nothing but earthly matters, that there seems no cure for them. It appears impossible for them to retire into their own hearts; accustomed as they are to be with the reptiles and other creatures which live outside the castle, they have come at last to imitate their habits. Though these souls are by their nature so richly endowed, capable of communion even with God Himself, yet their case seems hopeless. Unless they endeavour to understand and remedy their most miserable plight, their minds will become, as it were, bereft of movement, just as Lot's wife became a pillar of salt for looking backwards in disobedience to God's command.11
  9.: As far as I can understand, the gate by which to enter this castle is prayer and meditation. I do not allude more to mental than to vocal prayer, for if it is prayer at all, the mind must take part in it. If a person neither considers to Whom he is addressing himself, what he asks, nor what he is who ventures to speak to God, although his lips may utter many words, I do not call it prayer.12' Sometimes, indeed, one may pray devoutly without making all these considerations through having practised them at other times. The custom of speaking to God Almighty as freely as with a slave-caring nothing whether the words are suitable or not, but simply saying the first thing that comes to mind from being learnt by rote by frequent repetition-cannot be called prayer: God grant that no Christian may address Him in this manner. I trust His Majesty will prevent any of you, sisters, from doing so. Our habit in this Order of conversing about spiritual matters is a good preservative against such evil ways.
  10.: Let us speak no more of these crippled souls, who are in a most miserable and dangerous state, unless our Lord bid them rise, as He did the palsied man who had waited more than thirty years at the pool of Bethsaida.13' We will now think of the others who at last enter the precincts of the castle; they are still very worldly, yet have some desire to do right, and at times, though rarely, commend themselves to God's care. They think about their souls every now and then; although very busy, they pray a few times a month, with minds generally filled with a thousand other matters, for where their treasure is, there is their heart also.14' Still, occasionally they cast aside these cares; it is a great boon for them to realize to some extent the state of their souls, and to see that they will never reach the gate by the road they are following.
  11.: At length they enter the first rooms in the basement of the castle, accompanied by numerous reptiles15' which disturb their peace, and prevent their seeing the beauty of the building; still, it is a great gain that these persons should have found their way in at all.
  12.: You may think, my daughters, that all this does not concern you, because, by God's grace, you are farther advanced; still, you must be patient with me, for I can explain myself on some spiritual matters concerning prayer in no other way. May our Lord enable me to speak to the point; the subject is most difficult to understand without personal experience of such graces. Any one who has received them will know how impossible it is to avoid touching on subjects which, by the mercy of God, will never apply to us.

1.01 - the Call to Adventure, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  Now close to the castle of this king was a great dark forest, and
  in the forest under an old lime tree a spring, and when the day

1.01 - The Castle, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  object:1.01 - The castle
  class:The castle of Crossed Destinies
  class:chapter
  The castle
  In the midst of a thick forest, there was a castle that gave shelter to all travelers overtaken by night on their journey: lords and ladies, royalty and their retinue, humble wayfarers.
  I crossed a rattling drawbridge. I slipped from my saddle in a dark courtyard. Silent grooms took my horse. I was breathless, hardly able to stand on my legs; after entering the forest I had faced so many trials, encounters, apparitions, duels, that I could no longer order my actions or my thoughts.
  --
  As I looked around, I felt a curious sensation, or, rather, two distinct sensations, which mingled in my mind, still upset and somewhat unstable in my weariness. I seemed to be at a sumptuous court, which no one would have expected to find in such a rustic and out-of-the-way castle; and its wealth was evident not only in the costly furnishings and the graven vessels, but also in the calm and ease which reigned among those at the table, all handsome of person and clothed with elaborate elegance. But, at the same time, I remarked a feeling of random, of disorder, if not actually of license, as if this were not a lordly dwelling but an inn of passage, where people unknown to one another live together for one night and where, in that enforced promiscuity, all feel a relaxation of the rules by which they live in their own surroundings, and-as one resigns oneself to less comfortable ways of life-so one also indulges in freer, unfamiliar behavior. In fact, the two contradictory impressions could nevertheless refer to a single object: whether the castle, for years visited only as a stopping place, had gradually degenerated into an inn, and the lord and his lady had found themselves reduced to the roles of host and hostess, though still going through the motions of their aristocratic hospitality; or whether a tavern, such as one often sees in the vicinity of castles, to give drink to soldiers and horsemen, had invaded-the castle being long abandoned-the ancient, noble halls to install its benches and hogsheads there, and the pomp of those rooms-as well as the coming and going of illustrious customers-had conferred on the inn an unforeseen dignity, sufficient to put ideas in the heads of the host and hostess, who finally came to believe themselves the rulers of a brilliant court.
  These thoughts, to tell the truth, occupied me only for a moment; stronger were my relief at being safe and sound in the midst of a select company and my impatience to strike up a conversation (at a nod of invitation from the man who seemed the lord-or the host-I had sat down at the only empty place) and to exchange with my traveling companions tales of the adventures we had undergone. But at this table, contrary to the custom of inns, and also of courts, no one uttered a word. When a guest wished to ask his neighbor to pass the salt or the ginger, he did so with a gesture, and with gestures he also addressed the servants, motioning them to cut him a slice of pheasant pie or to pour him a half pint of wine.
  --
  When our supper ended in a muteness which the sounds of chewing and the smacking of lips gulping wine did not make more pleasant, we remained seated, looking one another in the face, with the torment of not being able to exchange the many experiences each of us had to communicate. At that point, on the table which had just been cleared, the man who seemed the lord of the castle set a pack of playing cards. They were tarot cards, larger than the kind we use for ordinary games or that gypsies employ for predicting the future, but it was possible to discern more or less the same figures that are painted in the enamels of the most precious miniatures. Kings, Queens, Knights, and Pages were all young people magnificently dressed, as if for a princely feast; the twenty-two Major Arcana seemed the tapestries of a court theater; and cups, coins, swords, clubs shone like heraldic devices adorned with scrolls and arabesques.
  We began to spread out the cards on the table, face up, and to give them their proper value in games, or their true meaning in the reading of fortunes. And yet none of us seemed to wish to begin playing, and still less to question the future, since we were as if drained of all future, suspended in a journey that had not ended nor was to end. There was something else we saw in those tarots, something that no longer allowed us to take our eyes from the gilded pieces of that mosaic.

1.01 - The Path of Later On, #Words Of Long Ago, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  "The path of later-on and the road of tomorrow lead only to the castle of nothing-at-all."
  BY THE wayside, many-coloured flowers delight the eye, red berries gleam on small trees with knotty branches, and in the distance a brilliant sun shines gold upon the ripe corn.
  --
  Hollow voices cry out to the traveller, "Flee this place; go back to the cross-roads; there is still time." The young man hesitates, then replies, "Tomorrow." He covers his face with his hands so as not to see the bodies rolling into the ravine, and runs along the road, drawn on by an irresistible urge to go forward. He no longer wonders whether he will find a way out. With furrowed brow and clothes in disorder, he runs on in desperation. At last, thinking himself far away from the accursed place, he opens his eyes: there are no more fir-trees; all around are barren stones and grey dust. The sun has disappeared beyond the horizon; night is coming on. The road has lost itself in an endless desert. The desperate traveller, worn out by his long run, wants to stop; but he must walk on. All around him is ruin; he hears stifled cries; his feet stumble on skeletons. In the distance, the thick mist takes on terrifying shapes; black forms loom up; something huge and misshapen suggests itself. The traveller flies rather than walks towards the goal he senses and which seems to flee from him; wild cries direct his steps; he brushes against phantoms. At last he sees before him a huge edifice, dark, desolate, gloomy, a castle to make one say with a shudder: "A haunted castle." But the young man pays no attention to the bleakness of the place; these great black walls make no impression on him; as he stands on the dusty ground, he hardly trembles at the sight of these formidable towers; he thinks only that the goal is reached, he forgets his weariness and discouragement. As he approaches the castle, he brushes against a wall, and the wall crumbles; instantly everything collapses around him; towers, battlements, walls have vanished, sinking into dust which is added to the dust already covering the ground.
  Owls, crows and bats fly out in all directions, screeching and circling around the head of the poor traveller who, dazed, downcast, overwhelmed, stands rooted to the spot, unable to move; suddenly, horror of horrors, he sees rising up before him terrible phantoms who bear the names of Desolation, Despair, Disgust with life, and amidst the ruins he even glimpses Suicide, pallid and dismal above a bottomless gulf. All these malignant spirits surround him, clutch him, propel him towards the yawning chasm. The poor youth tries to resist this irresistible force, he wants to draw back, to flee, to tear himself away from all these invisible arms entwining and clasping him. But it is too late; he moves on towards the fatal abyss. He feels drawn, hypnotized by it. He calls out; no voice answers to his cries. He grasps at the phantoms, everything gives way beneath him. With haggard eyes he scans the void, he calls out, he implores; the macabre laughter of Evil rings out at last.
  The traveller is at the edge of the gulf. All his efforts have been in vain. After a supreme struggle he falls... from his bed. A young student had a long essay to prepare for the following morning. A little tired by his day's work, he had said to himself as he arrived home, "I shall work later." Soon afterwards he thought that if he went to bed early, he could get up early the next morning and quickly finish his task. "Let's go to bed," he said to himself, "I shall work better tomorrow; I shall sleep on it." He did not know how truly he spoke. His sleep was troubled by the terrible nightmare we have described, and his fall awoke him with a start. Thinking over what he had dreamt, he exclaimed, "But it's quite clear: the path is called the path of 'later on', the road is the road of 'tomorrow' and the great building the castle of 'nothing at all'." Elated at his cleverness, he set to work, vowing to himself that he would never put off until tomorrow what he could do today.
  1893

1.02 - BEFORE THE CITY-GATE, #Faust, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  Maidens and castles
  Capitulate soon.

1.02 - MAPS OF MEANING - THREE LEVELS OF ANALYSIS, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
  representative example is presented in Figure 39: castle, Hero, Serpent and Virgin: St. George and the
  Dragon.330 All of the elements of the meta-myth are portrayed in this drawing: the threatened
  community, represented by the walled city or castle; the winged dragon, who has emerged from the
  underworld (and whose lair is surrounded by the bones of the dead); the hero, armed with the sword, who
  --
  Figure 39: castle, Hero, Serpent and Virgin: St. George and the Dragon
  The Mesopotamian emperor and the Pharaohs of Egypt were solar gods, representatives of the
  --
  three sons, and they were all in great distress on his account, and they went into the castle gardens and
  wept at the thought that he must die. An old man came up to them and asked the cause of their grief.
  --
  strike three times on the iron gate of the castle and it will spring open. Inside you will find two lions
  with wide-open jaws, but if you throw a loaf to each they will be quiet. Then you must make haste to
  fetch the Water of Life before it strikes twelve, or the gates of the castle will close, and you will be shut
  in.
  --
  The Prince thanked him, took the rod and the loaves, and set off. When he reached the castle all was
  just as the dwarf had said. At the third knock the gates flew open, and when he had pacified the lions
  with their loaves, he walked into the castle. In the great hall he found several enchanted princes, and he
  took the rings from their fingers. He also took a sword and a loaf which were lying by them.
  --
  we discussed earlier). The young princes voyage into the enchanted castle is equivalent to a voluntary
  descent into the dangerous kingdom of the dead. His encounter with the dead ancestors allows him access
  --
  of the castle before the clock struck twelve.
  Then he went on and came to a room where there was a beautiful bed freshly made, and as he was
  --
   had caused a road to be made of pure shining gold leading straight to her castle, and told her people
  that whoever came riding straight along it would be her true bridegroom, and they were to admit him.
  --
  drought; is ruler of the castle in which everything has been brought to a standstill.
  173

1.02 - The Human Soul, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
    1. Effects of mortal sin. 2. It prevents the soul's gaining merit. 3. The soul compared to a tree. 4. Disorder of the soul in mortal sin. 5. Vision of a sinful soul. 6. Profit of realizing these lessons. 7. Prayer. 8. Beauty of the castle. 9. Self-knowledge 10. Gained by meditating on the divine perfections. 11. Advantages of such meditation. 12. Christ should be our model. 13. The devil entraps beginners. 14. Our strength must come from God. 15. Sin blinds the soul. 16. Worldliness. 17. The world in the cloister. 18. Assaults of the devil. 19. Examples of the devil's arts. 20. Perfection consists in charity. 21. Indiscreet zeal. 22. Danger of detraction.
  1.: BEFORE going farther, I wish you to consider the state to which mortal sin16' brings this magnificent and beautiful castle, this pearl of the East, this tree of life, planted beside the living waters of life17 which symbolize God Himself. No night can be so dark, no gloom nor blackness can compare to its obscurity. Suffice it to say that the sun in the centre of the soul, which gave it such splendour and beauty, is totally eclipsed, though the spirit is as fitted to enjoy God's presence as is the crystal to reflect the sun.18
  2.: While the soul is in mortal sin nothing can profit it; none of its good works merit an eternal reward, since they do not proceed from God as their first principle, and by Him alone is our virtue real virtue. The soul separated from Him is no longer pleasing in His eyes, because by committing a mortal sin, instead of seeking to please God, it prefers to gratify the devil, the prince of darkness, and so comes to share his blackness. I knew a person to whom our Lord revealed the result of a mortal sin19' and who said she thought no one who realized its effects could ever commit it, but would suffer unimaginable torments to avoid it. This vision made her very desirous for all to grasp this truth, therefore I beg you, my daughters, to pray fervently to God for sinners, who live in blindness and do deeds of darkness.
  --
  4.: O souls, redeemed by the Blood of Jesus Christ, take these things to heart; have mercy on yourselves! If you realize your pitiable condition, how can you refrain from trying to remove the darkness from the crystal of your souls? Remember, if death should take you now, you would never again enjoy the light of this Sun. O Jesus! how sad a sight must be a soul deprived of light! What a terrible state the chambers of this castle are in! How disorderly must be the senses-the inhabitants of the castle-the powers of the soul its magistrates, governors, and stewards-blind and uncontrolled as they are! In short, as the soil in which the tree is now planted is in the devil's domain, how can its fruit be anything but evil? A man of great spiritual insight once told me he was not so much surprised at such a soul's wicked deeds as astonished that it did not commit even worse sins. May God in His mercy keep us from such great evil, for nothing in this life merits the name of evil in comparison with this, which delivers us over to evil which is eternal.
  5.: This is what we must dread and pray God to deliver us from, for we are weakness itself, and unless He guards the city, in vain shall we labour to defend it.20' The person of whom I spoke21' said that she had learnt two things from the vision granted her. The first was, a great fear of offending God; seeing how terrible were the consequences, she constantly begged Him to preserve her from falling into sin. Secondly, it was a mirror to teach her humility, for she saw that nothing good in us springs from ourselves but comes from the waters of grace near which the soul remains like a tree planted beside a river, and from that Sun which gives life to our works. She realized this so vividly that on seeing any good deed performed by herself or by other people she at once turned to God as to its fountain head-without whose help she knew well we can do nothing-and broke out into songs of praise to Him. Generally she forgot all about herself and only thought of God when she did any meritorious action.
  --
  8.: Now let us turn at last to our castle with its many mansions. You must not think of a suite of rooms placed in succession, but fix your eyes on the keep, the court inhabited by the King.23' Like the kernel of the palmito,24' from which several rinds must be removed before coming to the eatable part, this principal chamber is surrounded by many others. However large, magnificent, and spacious you imagine this castle to be, you cannot exaggerate it; the capacity of the soul is beyond all our understanding, and the Sun within this palace enlightens every part of it.
  9.: A soul which gives itself to prayer, either much or little, should on no account be kept within narrow bounds. Since God has given it such great dignity, permit it to wander at will through the rooms of the castle, from the lowest to the highest. Let it not force itself to remain for very long in the same mansion, even that of self-knowledge. Mark well, however, that self-knowledge is indispensable, even for those whom God takes to dwell in the same mansion with Himself. Nothing else, however elevated, perfects the soul which must never seek to forget its own nothingness. Let humility be always at work, like the bee at the honeycomb, or all will be lost. But, remember, the bee leaves its hive to fly in search of flowers and the soul should sometimes cease thinking of itself to rise in meditation on the grandeur and majesty of its God. It will learn its own baseness better thus than by self-contemplation, and will be freer from the reptiles which enter the first room where self-knowledge is acquired. The palmito here referred to is not a palm, but a shrub about four feet high and very dense with leaves, resembling palm leaves. The poorer classes and principally children dig it up by the roots, which they peel of its many layers until a sort of kernel is disclosed, which is eaten, not without relish, and is somewhat like a filbert in taste. See St. John of the Cross, Accent of Mount Carmel, bk. ii. ch, xiv, 3. Although it is a great grace from God to practise self-examination, yet 'too much is as bad as too little,' as they say; believe me, by God's help, we shall advance more by contemplating the Divinity than by keeping our eyes fixed on ourselves, poor creatures of earth that we are.
  10.: I do not know whether I have put this clearly; self-knowledge is of such consequence that I would not have you careless of it, though you may be lifted to heaven in prayer, because while on earth nothing is more needful than humility. Therefore, I repeat, not only a good way, but the best of all ways, is to endeavour to enter first by the room where humility is practised, which is far better than at once rushing on to the others. This is the right road;-if we know how easy and safe it is to walk by it, why ask for wings with which to fly? Let us rather try to learn how to advance quickly. I believe we shall never learn to know ourselves except by endeavouring to know God, for, beholding His greatness we are struck by our own baseness, His purity shows our foulness, and by meditating on His humility we find how very far we are from being humble.
  --
  15 :You must notice that the light which comes from the King's palace hardly shines at all in these first mansions; although not as gloomy and black as the soul in mortal sin, yet they are in semi-darkness, and their inhabitants see scarcely anything. I cannot explain myself; I do not mean that this is the fault of the mansions themselves, but that the number of snakes, vipers, and venomous reptiles from outside the castle prevent souls entering them from seeing the light. They resemble a person entering a chamber full of brilliant sunshine, with eyes clogged and half closed with dust. Though the room itself is light, he cannot see because of his self-imposed impediment. In the same way, these fierce and wild beasts blind the eyes of the beginner, so that he sees nothing but them.
  16.: Such, it appears to me, is the soul which, though not in a state of mortal sin, is so worldly and preoccupied with earthly riches, honours, and affairs, that as I said, even if it sincerely wishes to enter into itself and enjoy the beauties of the castle, it is prevented by these distractions and seems unable to overcome so many obstacles. It is most important to withdraw from all unnecessary cares and business, as far as compatible with the duties of one's state of life, in order to enter the second mansion. This is so essential, that unless done immediately I think it impossible for any one ever to reach the principal room, or even to remain where he is without great risk of losing what is already gained; otherwise, although he is inside the castle, he will find it impossible to avoid being bitten some time or other by some of the very venomous creatures surrounding him.
  17.: What then would become of a religious like ourselves, my daughters, if, after having escaped from all these impediments, and having entered much farther into the more secret mansion, she should, by her own fault, return to all this turmoil? Through her sins, many other people on whom God had bestowed great graces would culpably relapse into their wretched state. In our convents we are free from these exterior evils; please God our minds may be as free from them, and may He deliver us from such ills.
  18.: Do not trouble yourselves, my daughters, with cares which do not concern you. You must notice that the struggle with the demons continues through nearly all the mansions of this castle. True, in some of them, the guards, which, as I explained, are the powers of the soul, have strength for the combat, but we must be keenly on the watch against the devils's arts, lest he deceive us in the form of an angel of light. He creeps in gradually, in numberless ways, and does us much harm, though we do not discover it until too late.28
  19.: As I said elsewhere,29' he works like a file, secretly and silently wearing its way: I will give you some examples to show how he begins his wiles. For instance: a nun has such a longing for penance as to feel no peace unless she is tormenting herself in some way.30' This is good in itself; but suppose that the Prioress has forbidden her to practise any mortifications without special leave, and the sister thinking that, in such a meritorious cause, she may venture to disobey, secretly leads such a life that she loses her health and cannot even fulfil the requirements of her rule-you see how this show of good ends. Another nun is very zealous about religious perfection; this is very right, but may cause her to think every small fault she sees in her sisters a serious crime, and to watch constantly whether they do anything wrong, that she may run to the Prioress to accuse them of it. At the same time, may be she never notices her own shortcomings because of her great zeal about other people's religious observance, while perhaps her sisters, not seeing her intention but only knowing of the watch she keeps on them, do not take her behaviour in good part.

1.02 - The Refusal of the Call, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  Little Briar-rose (Sleeping Beauty) was put to sleep by a jeal ous hag (an unconscious evil-mother image). And not only the child, her entire world went off to sleep; but at last, "after long, long years," there came a prince to wake her. "The king and queen (the conscious good-parent images), who had just come home and were entering the hall, began to fall asleep, and with them the whole estate. All the horses slept in the stalls, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the walls, yes, the fire that flickered on the hearth grew still and slumbered, and the roast ceased to simmer. And the cook, who was about to pull the hair of the scullery boy because he had forgotten some thing, let him go and fell off to sleep. And the wind went down, and not a leaf stirred in the trees. Then around the castle a hedge of thorns began to grow, which became taller every year, and finally shut off the whole estate. It grew up taller than the castle, so that nothing more was seen, not even the weathercock on the roof."
  A Persian city once was "enstoned to stone"king and queen, soldiers, inhabitants, and allbecause its people refused the call of Allah. Lot's wife became a pillar of salt for looking back, when she had been summoned forth from her city by Jehovah.

1.03 - The Tale of the Alchemist Who Sold His Soul, #The Castle of Crossed Destinies, #Italo Calvino, #Fiction

1.04 - The First Circle, Limbo Virtuous Pagans and the Unbaptized. The Four Poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan. The Noble Castle of Philosophy., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity
  object:1.04 - The First Circle, Limbo Virtuous Pagans and the Unbaptized. The Four Poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan. The Noble castle of Philosophy.
  Broke the deep lethargy within my head
  --
  We came unto a noble castle's foot,
  Seven times encompassed with lofty walls,

1.05 - THE HOSTILE BROTHERS - ARCHETYPES OF RESPONSE TO THE UNKNOWN, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
  son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy castle, nor thy stranger that is within
  thy gates:
  --
  (watery abyss, cavern, forest, island, castle, etc.) can one find the treasure hard to attain (jewel, virgin,
  life-potion, victory over death).640 Jung ends his commentary:
  --
  forest, island, castle, etc.) can one find the treasure hard to attain (jewel, virgin, life-potion, victory over death. Jung,
  C.G. (1968b). p. 335.

1.077 - The Unleashed, #Quran, #unset, #Zen
  32. It shoots sparks as castles.
  33. As if they were yellow camels.

1.07 - The Farther Reaches of Human Nature, #Sex Ecology Spirituality, #Ken Wilber, #Philosophy
  --- THE INTERIOR castle
  --- VISION-LOGIC
  --
  --- THE INTERIOR castle:
  1:I have been constantly emphasizing that each stage of evolution, in whatever domain, involves a new emergence and therefore a new depth, or a new interiority, whether that applies to molecules or to birds or to dolphins; and that each new within is also a going beyond, a transcendence, a higher and wider identity with a greater total embrace. The formula is: going within = going beyond = greater embrace. And I want to make very clear exactly what that means.

1.08 - EVENING A SMALL, NEATLY KEPT CHAMBER, #Faust, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  In the castle by the Sea.
  There stood the old carouser,

1.08 - The Depths of the Divine, #Sex Ecology Spirituality, #Ken Wilber, #Philosophy
  In the Interior castle, one of the truly great texts of subtle-level development, Teresa describes very clearly the stages of evolution of the "little butterfly," as she calls her soul, to its union with the very Divine, and she does so in terms of "seven mansions," or seven stages of growth.
  The first three stages deal with the ordinary mind or ego, "unregenerate" in the gross, manifest world of thought and sense. In the first Mansion, that of Humility, the ego is still in love with the creatures and comforts outside the castle, and must begin a long and searching discipline in order to turn within. In the second Mansion (the Practice of Prayer), intellectual study, edification, and good company streng then the desire and capacity to interiorize and not merely scatter and disperse the self in exterior distractions. In the Mansion of Exemplary Life, the third stage, discipline and ethics are firmly set as a foundation of all that is to follow (very similar to the Buddhist notion that sila, or moral discipline, is the foundation of dhyana, or meditation, and prajna, or spiritual insight). These are all natural (or personal) developments.
  In the fourth mansion, a supernatural (or transpersonal) grace enters the scene with the Prayer of Recollection and the Prayer of Quiet (which Teresa differentiates by their bodily effects). In both, there is a calming and slowing of gross-oriented faculties (memory, thoughts, senses) and a consequent opening to deeper, more interior spaces with correlative "graces," which Teresa calls, at this stage, "spiritual consolations" (because they are consoling to the self, not yet transcending of the self). On the other hand, it is also as if the soul itself is actually beginning to emerge at this stage: "The senses and all external things seem gradually to lose their hold, while the soul, on the other hand, regains its lost control." And this carries a glimmer of the truth to come, "namely, that God is within us."26
  --
  One taste, and the butterfly is born, the soul is born (or emerges from its slumber in ego, its lostness in the exterior cocoon of form; and, of course, the butterfly is the omega point of the silkworm). The rest of Interior castle describes the extraordinary journey of this little butterfly toward that primordial Flame in which, at last, it will happily die (to be, once again, reborn on yet a deeper level, that of union with Uncreate Spirit).
  In the sixth mansion, Lover and Beloved, butterfly and God, soul and Uncreate Spirit, "see each other" for extended periods of time. Whereas the absorption of the Fifth Mansion might last up to a half-hour, various types of absorption here last a day or several days, she says (even if the cessation itself is still shortlived). The soul is "so completely absorbed and the understanding so completely transported-for as long as a day, or even for several days-that the soul seems incapable of grasping anything that does not awaken the will to love; to this it is fully awake, while asleep as regards all attachment. . . ."30

1.10 - Relics of Tree Worship in Modern Europe, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  he says, "Ah, this is perhaps an enchanted castle; the witches creep
  through the leaves and need no door." At last he draws his sword and

1.14 - The Structure and Dynamics of the Self, #Aion, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  stone. From here analogy formation leads on to the city, 11 castle,
  church, 12 house, 13 and vessel. 14 Another variant is the wheel

1.18 - The Eighth Circle, Malebolge The Fraudulent and the Malicious. The First Bolgia Seducers and Panders. Venedico Caccianimico. Jason. The Second Bolgia Flatterers. Allessio Interminelli. Thais., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity
  Many and many moats surround the castles,
  The part in which they are a figure forms,
  --
  For all upon one side towards the castle
  Their faces have, and go unto St. Peter's;

1.22 - Ciampolo, Friar Gomita, and Michael Zanche. The Malabranche quarrel., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity
    With kettle-drums, and signals of the castles,
    And with our own, and with outlandish things,

1.28 - Describes the nature of the Prayer of Recollection and sets down some of the means by which we can make it a habit., #The Way of Perfection, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  nothing but toys; so in due course it rises above them, like a person entering a strong castle, in order
  that it may have nothing more to fear from its enemies. It withdraws the senses from all outward

1.28 - Need to Define God, Self, etc., #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  As "higher" gave the idea of aggression, of conquest, "within" usually implies safety. Always we get back to that stage of history when the social unit, based on the family, was little less than condition No. 1 of survival. The house, the castle, the fortified camp, the city wall; the "gens," the clan, the tribe, the "patrie," to be outside means danger from cold, hunger and thirst, raiding parties, highway robbers, bears, wolves, and tigers. To go out was to take a risk; and, your labour and courage being assets to your kinsmen, you were also a bad man; in fact, a "bounder" or "outsider." "Debauch" is simply "to go out of doors!" St. John says: "without are dogs and sorcerers and whoremongers and adulterers and idolaters and..." so on.[52]
  We of Thelema challenge all this briskly. "The word of Sin is Restriction." (AL I, 41). Our formula, roughly speaking, is to go out and grab what we want. We do this so thoroughly that we grow thereby, extending our conception of "I" by including each new accretion instead of remaining a closely delineated self, proud of possessing other things, as do the Black Brothers.

1.28 - The Killing of the Tree-Spirit, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  old castle in which Louis XI. and Francis I. had slept. When the
  last glimmer of the blazing phantom had vanished, like a falling

1.29 - What is Certainty?, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
    Like a pigmy castle-warder,
    Dwarfish to see but stout and able,

1.33 - Count Ugolino and the Archbishop Ruggieri. The Death of Count Ugolino's Sons., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity
  Of having in thy castles thee betrayed,
  Thou shouldst not on such cross have put his sons.

1.40 - Describes how, by striving always to walk in the love and fear of God, we shall travel safely amid all these temptations., #The Way of Perfection, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  are the more readily noticed. Love and fear of God! These are two strong castles whence we can
  wage war on the world and on the devils.

1.56 - The Public Expulsion of Evils, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  At Cape Coast castle, on the Gold Coast, the ceremony was witnessed
  on the ninth of October, 1844, by an Englishman, who has described

1.66 - The External Soul in Folk-Tales, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  he holds enthralled in his enchanted castle, wiles his secret from
  him and reveals it to the hero, who seeks out the warlock's soul,
  --
  carried off a princess and kept her prisoner in his golden castle.
  However, a prince made up to her one day as she was walking alone
  and disconsolate in the castle garden, and cheered by the prospect
  of escaping with him she went to the warlock and coaxed him with
  --
  worm and crushed it. Then he hurried to the warlock's castle, but
  only to learn from the princess that the warlock was still alive.
  --
  prisoner in his castle on the top of a hill, which was white with
  the bones of the champions who had tried in vain to rescue the fair
  --
  of a giant resides in an old box-tree which grows in his castle
  garden; and to kill him it is necessary to sever the tap-root of the

1.70 - Morality 1, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  1. Area Morality: This is the code of the "Slave-Gods," very thorougly analysed, pulverized, and de-loused by Nietzsche in Antichrist. It consists of all the meanest vices, especially envy, cowardice, cruelty and greed: all based on over-mastering Fear. Fear of the nightmare type. With this incubus, the rich and powerful have devised an engine to keep down the poor and the weak. They are lavish alike with threats and promises in Ogre Bogey's castle and Cloud-Cuckoo-Land. "Religion is the opium of the people," when they flinch no longer from the phantom knout.
  2. Eight Lectures on Yoga gives a reasonable account of the essence of this matter, especially in the talks on Yama and Niyama. (A book on this subject might well include a few quotations, notably from paragraphs 8, 9 and 10 in the former). It might be summarized as "doing that, and only that, which facilitates the task in hand." A line of conduct becomes a custom when experience has shown that to follow it makes for success. "Don't press!" "Play with a straight bat!" "Don't draw to five!" do not involve abstract considerations of right and wrong. Orthodox Hinduism has raped this pure system, and begotten a bastard code which reeks of religion. A political manoeuvre of the Brahmin caste.

1.79 - Progress, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  You say permit me to condense your more than somewhat tautological, pleonastic, prolix, diffuse and incoherent elucubrations! that the whole idea of the Great Order is based on faith in Progress. The doctrine of successive aeons is nothing else. The system of training is nothing else. Nothing, in fact, is anything else. Maugr this and in despite thereof (you continue, with a knavish gleam in your hither eye) I am everlastingly throwing down the whole jerry-built castle by my cynical reflections. (Some one Anthony Hope in a lucid moment, I think says that cynicism is always a confession of failure "sour grapes.") Maybe, some of the time. But the explanation is very simple, and you ought to have been able to think it out for yourself. It is a question of the "Universe of Discourse," of Perspective. An engineer may swear himself ultra-marine in the map all the time at the daily mistakes and mishaps that go on all the time under his nose, yet at dinner tell his friends complacently that the bridge is going up better than he ever expected.
  Just so, my gibes are directed at incidents; but my heart's truth is fixed on the grand spiral.

1953-11-25, #Questions And Answers 1953, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But he was possessed. He was rather mediocre by nature, very mediocre. He was a medium, a very good medium the thing took hold of him, besides, during spiritism seances. It was at that moment that he was seized by those fits which were described as epileptic. They were not epileptic: they were attacks of possession. It was thus that he had a kind of power, which however was not very great. But when he wanted to know something from that power, he went away to his castle, and there, in meditation, there truly he invoked very intensely what he called his god, his supreme god, who was the Lord of the Nations. And everything seemed to him magnificent. It was a being it was smallit appeared to him all in silver armour, with a silver helmet and golden plume! It was magnificent! And a light so dazzling that hardly could the eyes see and bear that blaze. Naturally it did not appear physicallyHitler was a medium, he saw. He had a sort of clairvoyance. And it was at such times that he had his fits: he rolled on the ground, he drivelled, bit the carpet, it was frightful, the state he was in. The people around him knew it. Well, that being is the Lord of the Nations. And it is not even the Lord of the Nations in its origin, it is an emanation of the Lord of the Nations, and a very powerful emanation.
   If it chooses to disappear, would that be a loss of power for the Divine?

1f.lovecraft - At the Mountains of Madness, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   bergs became the battlements of unimaginable cosmic castles.
   Pushing through the ice, which was fortunately neither extensive nor
  --
   Asian castles clinging to steep mountains in Roerichs paintings.
   Impressive from distance. Flew close to some, and Carroll thought

1f.lovecraft - The Alchemist, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   honoured line is older even than the moss-grown castle walls. These
   ancient turrets, stained by the storms of generations and crumbling
  --
   dislodged from one of the deserted parapets of the castle; and my
   mother having died at my birth, my care and education devolved solely
  --
   the old castle in which I sat had been a feared and impregnable
   fortress. It told of a certain ancient man who had once dwelt on our
  --
   One night the castle on the hill was thrown into the wildest confusion
   by the vanishment of young Godfrey, son to Henri the Comte. A searching
  --
   deserted portion of the castle, less than a week before that fatal hour
   which I felt must mark the utmost limit of my stay on earth, beyond
  --
   deemed the old castle with evidence of the presence of man or spirit,
   produced in my brain a horror of the most acute description. When at
  --
   evil, and how came he within the castle walls? Why should he seek to
   avenge the death of poor Michel Mauvais, and how had the curse been

1f.lovecraft - The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   situation of Baron Ferenczys castle did not favour visits. It was on a
   crag in the dark wooded mountains, and the region was so shunned by the
  --
   castle Ferenczy
   7 March 1928.
  --
   utter extirpation with all its inmates of the ill-regarded castle
   Ferenczy, whose master was so badly spoken of by peasants and soldiery

1f.lovecraft - The Descendant, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   he was none other than Lord Northam, of whose ancient hereditary castle
   on the Yorkshire coast so many odd things were told; but when Williams
   tried to talk of the castle, and of its reputed Roman origin, he
   refused to admit that there was anything unusual about it. He even
  --
   had had peculiar dreams when sleeping in the older parts of the castle,
   and had acquired a constant habit of looking back through his memory

1f.lovecraft - The Disinterment, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   belonging to a castle of unreal substance. There stood the monument of
   half a century; a haven for all my family old and young, which I had

1f.lovecraft - The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   with unimagined stars, holds secret and nocturnal the onyx castle of
   the Great Ones.
  --
   castle on Kadath, had decided to take him away and deliver him to
   Nyarlathothep for whatever nameless bounty might be offered for such a
  --
   its onyx castle for the Great Ones. So to Celephas he must go, far
   distant from the isle of Oriab, and in such parts as would take him
  --
   castle of the Great Ones were not by any means reassuring.
   Having thanked the orchid-crowned high-priest, Carter left the temple
  --
   the Great Ones castle atop unknown Kadath is of onyx.
   Each day the sun wheeled lower and lower in the sky, and the mists
  --
   castle. It seemed likely that this merchant had caused his former
   capture by the slaves of the moon-things in Dylath-Leen, and that he
  --
   to fly to the onyx castle atop unknown Kadath in the cold waste to
   plead with the Great Ones for the sunset city they denied him, and felt
  --
   castle to give prayer to the gods of earth. If any ghouls chose to
   escort him into the throne-room of the Great Ones, he would be
  --
   transportation to and from the castle atop unknown Kadath; the final
   journey being either to the marvellous sunset city itself, in case the
  --
   earths gods in their onyx castle.
   Moved by a gratitude and satisfaction beyond words, Carter made plans
  --
   onyx castle of mystery.
   About midday the ghouls and night-gaunts prepared for flight, each
  --
   Capping that most measureless of mountains was a castle beyond all
   mortal thought, and in it glowed the daemon-light. Then Randolph Carter
  --
   it was plain that the focus of their flight was the onyx castle where
   the pale light shone. So close was the great black mountain that its
  --
   tenebrous towers of the nighted castle above, and Carter could see that
   it was well-nigh blasphemous in its immensity. Well might its stones
  --
   castle, and it seemed that the speed of the party was somewhat abated.
   Vast walls shot up, and there was a glimpse of a great gate through
  --
   in the prodigious voids of that more than earthly castle. And when at
   last there suddenly dawned around him the lurid light of that single
  --
   for that one tower room the onyx castle atop Kadath was dark, and the
   masters were not there. Carter had come to unknown Kadath in the cold
  --
   certainly, the onyx castle of castles was far from tenantless. In what
   outrageous form or forms terror would next reveal itself, Carter could
  --
   They are gone from their castle on unknown Kadath to dwell in your
   marvellous city. All through its palaces of veined marble they revel by
  --
   of Kadaths grim castle and the pshent of eternal stars that crowns it.
   Then must you land amongst them with the shantak, and let them see and
  --
   into the onyx castle atop unknown Kadath in the cold waste, and taunted
   insolently the mild gods of earth whom he had snatched abruptly from

1f.lovecraft - The Moon-Bog, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   had congratulated him when he bought back the old castle by the bog at
   sleepy Kilderry. It was from Kilderry that his father had come, and it
  --
   the castle, but those days were very remote, so that for generations
   the castle had been empty and decaying. After he went to Ireland Barry
   wrote me often, and told me how under his care the grey castle was
   rising tower by tower to its ancient splendour; how the ivy was
  --
   for he was lonely in the castle with no one to speak to save the new
   servants and labourers he had brought from the north.
  --
   I came to the castle. I had reached Kilderry in the summer sunset, as
   the gold of the sky lighted the green of the hills and groves and the
  --
   castle gilded with fire. Barrys motor had met me at the Ballylough
   station, for Kilderry is off the railway. The villagers had shunned the
  --
   be awake and in the castle at Kilderry. Then I heard a clock from some
   remote landing below strike the hour of two, and I knew I was awake.
  --
   castle and the village. I went so far as to talk casually to Barry on
   the subject, but did not dare continue after he gave his resounding
  --
   piping whined and reverberated through the castle and over all the
   village.
  --
   of stumbling stragglers zigzagged drunkenly out of the castle from some
   door far below my window, groped sightlessly across the courtyard and
  --
   of a whole village, and knew I was alone in the castle with Denys
   Barry, whose boldness had brought down a doom. As I thought of him new
  --
   where the moon had risen, and began to hear the shrieks in the castle
   far below me. Soon those shrieks had attained a magnitude and quality
  --
   As I fled from that accursed castle along the bogs edge I heard a new
   sound; common, yet unlike any I had heard before at Kilderry. The

1f.lovecraft - The Other Gods, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   ancient castle, so he had no common superstition in his blood, and only
   laughed at the fearful cotters.

1f.lovecraft - The Picture in the House, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined Rhine castles,
   and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the scattered stones of

1f.lovecraft - The Rats in the Walls, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   nothing but evil and frantic fear to tell of the castle that went up on
   the foundations of the old temple and priory. The fireside tales were
  --
   forth from the castle three months after the tragedy that doomed it to
   desertionthe lean, filthy, ravenous army which had swept all before it

1f.lovecraft - The White Ship, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   temples, castles, and cities of Sona-Nyl. Of that land there is no
   bound, for beyond each vista of beauty rises another more beautiful.

1.fs - Feast Of Victory, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
  Priam's castle-walls had sunk,
   Troy in dust and ashes lay,

1.fs - The Knight Of Toggenburg, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
      At her castle gate!
    But alas! these accents dreary

1.jk - Calidore - A Fragment, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  Whence may be seen the castle gloomy, and grand:
  Nor will a bee buzz round two swelling peaches,

1.jk - Epistle To John Hamilton Reynolds, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  You know the Enchanted castle -- it doth stand
  Upon a rock on the border of a lake,
  --
  To show this castle in fair dreaming wise
  Unto my friend, while sick and ill he lies!
  --
  Towards the shade under the castle wall
  It comes in silence -- now 'tis hidden all.
  --
  "In hopes of cheering you through a minute or two, I was determined, will he nill he, to send you some lines, so you will excuse the unconnected subject and careless verse. You know, I am sure, Claude's 'Enchanted castle,' and I wish you may be pleased with my remembrance of it."
  Some thirty years ago this picture emerged from Lord Overstone's collection at Wickham Park, Bromley, and was exhibited at the British Institution. It was a favourite in Keats's circle. Hunt, in Imagination and Fancy, says of the "perilous seas in faery lands forlorn" passage in the Ode to a Nightingale, "This beats Claude's Enchanted castle, and the story of King Beder in the Arabian Nights."'
  ~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

1.jk - Fragment Of The Castle Builder, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  object:1.jk - Fragment Of The castle Builder
  author class:John Keats

1.jk - Lines Written In The Highlands After A Visit To Burnss Country, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  Toward the castle or the cot, where long ago was born
  One who was great through mortal days, and died of fame unshorn.

1.jk - Otho The Great - Act I, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  SCENE. The castle of Friedburg, its vicinity, and the Hungarian Camp.
  TIME. One Day.
  SCENE I. An Apartment in the castle. Enter CONRAD.
  Conrad. So, I am safe emerged from these broils!
  --
  SCENE II. The Court-yard of the castle.
  Martial Music. Enter, from the outer gate, OTHO, Nobles, Knights, and
  --
  Enter CONRAD, from the castle, attended by two Knights and
  Servants. ALBERT following.
  --
  Enter, from the castle, AURANTHE, followed by Pages holding
  up her robes, and a tram of Women. She kneels.
  --
  SCENE III. The Country, with the castle in the distance.
  Enter LUDOLPH and SIGIFRED.
  --
  He would be watching round the castle walls,
  And, like an anxious warder, strain his sight
  --
  Let us to Friedburg castle.
   by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

1.jk - Otho The Great - Act II, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  SCENE I. An Ante-chamber in the castle.
  Enter LUDOLPH and SIGIFRED.

1.jk - Otho The Great - Act III, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  SCENE II. An Apartment in the castle.
  Enter, as from the Marriage, OTHO, LUDOLPH, AURANTHE, CONRAD,

1.jk - Otho The Great - Act IV, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  Be what they may, and send him from the castle
  On some fool's errand; let his latest groan
  --
  Will leave this busy castle. You had best
  Take farewell too of worldly vanities.
  --
  SCENE II. An Apartment in the castle.
  Enter LUDOLPH and Page.

1.jk - Otho The Great - Act V, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  SCENE III. An inner Court of the castle.
  Enter SIGIFRED, GONFRED, and THEODORE meeting.
  --
  [Exeunt into the castle.
  SCENE IV. A Cabinet, opening towards a Terrace.

1.jlb - Chess, #Borges - Poems, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
  Their magic rules: Homeric castle, knight
  Swift to attack, queen warlike, king decisive,
  --
  Straightforward castle, and deceitful pawn
  Over the checkered black and white terrain

1.lb - Exile's Letter, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
       corner of the castle,
  To the dynastic temple, with water about it clear

1.lb - His Dream Of Skyland, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
  It rises above the Five Mountains and towers over the Scarlet castle,
  While, as if staggering before it, the Tien-tai Peak

1.lb - Lament of the Frontier Guard, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
  Desolate castle, the sky, the wide desert.
  There is no wall left to this village.

1.lovecraft - Psychopompos- A Tale in Rhyme, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  For solitary castles of their own,
  There dwelt a man of rank, whose fortress stood
  --
  The castle servants, few, discreet, and old,
  Full many a tale of strangeness might have told;

1.lovecraft - To Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkelt,, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Mountains of clouds, castles of crystal dreams,
  Ethereai cities and Elysian streams;

1.pbs - Charles The First, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  And be imprisoned within Lancaster castle
  During the pleasure of the Court.'

1.pbs - Ghasta Or, The Avenging Demon!!!, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  O'er my castle silence reigned,
  Late the night and drear the hour,

1.pbs - Hellas - A Lyrical Drama, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  Our wingd castles from their merchant ships!
  Our myriads before their weak pirate bands!

1.pbs - Julian and Maddalo - A Conversation, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  I Capuccini was a villa built on the site of a Capuchin convent, demolished when the French suppressed religious houses; it was situated on the very overhanging brow of a low hill at the foot of a range of higher ones. The house was cheerful and pleasant; a vine-trellised walk, a pergola, as it is called in Italian, led from the hall-door to a summer-house at the end of the garden, which Shelley made his study, and in which he began the Prometheus; and here also, as he mentions in a letter, he wrote Julian and Maddalo. A slight ravine, with a road in its depth, divided the garden from the hill, on which stood the ruins of the ancient castle of Este, whose dark massive wall gave forth an echo, and from whose ruined crevices owls and bats flitted forth at night, as the crescent moon sunk behind the black and heavy battlements. We looked from the garden over the wide plain of Lombardy, bounded to the west by the far Apennines, while to the east the horizon was lost in misty distance. After the picturesque but limited view of mountain, ravine, and chestnutwood, at the Baths of Lucca, there was something infinitely gratifying to the eye in the wide range of prospect commanded by our new abode.

1.pbs - Lines Written During The Castlereagh Administration, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  object:1.pbs - Lines Written During The castlereagh Administration
  author class:Percy Bysshe Shelley

1.pbs - Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  Note by Mrs. Shelley: 'In the brief journal I kept in those days, I find it recorded, in August, 1820, Shelley ''begins Swellfoot the Tyrant, suggested by the pigs at the fair of San Giuliano.'' This was the period of Queen Caroline's landing in England, and the struggles made by George IV. to get rid of her claims; which failing, Lord castlereagh placed the 'Green Bag' on the table of the House of Commons, demanding in the King's name that an inquiry should be instituted into his wife's conduct. These circumstances were the theme of all conversation among the English. We were then at the Baths of San Giuliano. A friend came to visit us on the day when a fair was held in the square, beneath our windows: Shelley read to us his Ode to Liberty; and was riotously accompanied by the grunting of a quantity of pigs brought for sale to the fair. He compared it to the 'chorus of frogs' in the satiric drama of Aristophanes; and, it being an hour of merriment, and one ludicrous association suggesting another, he imagined a political-satirical drama on the circumstances of the day, to which the pigs would serve as chorus -- and Swellfoot was begun.
  When finished, it was transmitted to England, printed, and published anonymously; but stifled at the very dawn of its existence by the Society for the Suppression of Vice, who threatened to prosecute it, if not immediately withdrawn. The friend who had taken the trouble of bringing it out, of course did not think it worth the annoyance and expense of a contest, and it was laid aside.'

1.pbs - Peter Bell The Third, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  There is a castles, and a Canning,
   A Cobbett, and a castlereagh;
  All sorts of caitiff corpses planning

1.pbs - Prince Athanase, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  O'er castled mountains borne, when tempest's war
  Is levied by the night-contending winds,

1.pbs - Queen Mab - Part IV., #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
   Tinge not the moon's pure beam; yon castled steep
   Whose banner hangeth o'er the time-worn tower

1.pbs - The Cenci - A Tragedy In Five Acts, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  The Scene lies principally in Rome, but changes during the Fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines.
  Time. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII.
  --
  That savage rock, the castle of Petrella:
  'Tis safely walled, and moated round about:
  --
  An Apartment in the castle of Petrella. Enter Cenci.
  Cenci.
  --
  Before the castle of Petrella. Enter Beatrice andLucretia above on the Ramparts.
  Beatrice.
  --
  An Apartment in the castle. Enter Beatrice and Lucretia.
  Lucretia.
  --
  Hark, 'tis the castle horn; my God! it sounds
  Like the last trump.
  --
  Another Apartment in the castle. Enter on one side the Legate Savella, introduced by a Servant, and on the other Lucretia and Bernardo.
  Savella.
  --
  Go search the castle round; sound the alarm;
  Look to the gates that none escape!

1.pbs - The Devils Walk. A Ballad, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  And flitted round castlereagh,
  When they snatched the Patriot's heart, that HIS grasp

1.pbs - The Mask Of Anarchy, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  He had a mask like castlereagh
  Very smooth he looked, yet grim;

1.pbs - To Mary -, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  The castle echo whispers 'Here!'

1.pbs - To The Republicans Of North America, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  And the castle's heartless glow,
  And the hovel's vice and woe,

1.pbs - Wine Of The Fairies, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
  Of the desolate castle yard;
  And when tis spilt on the summer earth

1.poe - Eureka - A Prose Poem, #Poe - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  "Nor had our forefathers any better right to talk about certainty, when pursuing, in blind confidence, the a priori path of axioms, or of the Ram. At innumerable points this path was scarcely as straight as a ram's-horn. The simple truth is, that the Aristotelians erected their castles upon a basis far less reliable than air; for no such things as axioms ever existed or can possibly exist at all. This they must have been very blind, indeed, not to see, or at least to suspect; for, even in their own day, many of their long-admitted 'axioms' had been abandoned: -'ex nihilo nihil fit,' for example, and a 'thing cannot act where it is not,' and 'there cannot be antipodes,' and 'darkness cannot proceed from light.' These and numerous similar propositions formerly accepted, without hesitation, as axioms, or undeniable truths, were, even at the period of which I speak, seen to be altogether untenable: -how absurd in these people, then, to persist in relying upon a basis, as immutable, whose mutability had become so repeatedly manifest!
  "But, even through evidence afforded by themselves against themselves, it is easy to convict these a priori reasoners of the grossest unreason -it is easy to show the futility -the impalpability of their axioms in general. I have now lying before me" it will be observed that we still proceed with the letter -"I have now lying before me a book printed about a thousand years ago. Pundit assures me that it is decidedly the cleverest ancient work on its topic, which is 'Logic.' The author, who was much esteemed in his day, was one Miller or Mill; and we find it recorded of him, as a point of some importance, that he rode a mill-horse whom he called Jeremy Bentham: -but let us glance at the volume itself!

1.rb - Aix In Provence, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  And so descend the castle-stairs-
  VI.

1.rb - A Lovers Quarrel, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
   Facing the castle glum
  And the giant's fee-faw-fum!

1.rb - De Gustibus, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  Is a castle, precipice-encurled,
  In a gash of the wind-grieved Apennine

1.rb - Garden Francies, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
   In a castle of the Middle Age,
  Joins to a lip of gum, pure amber;

1.rb - Nationality In Drinks, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  Like a pygmy castle-warder,
  Dwarfish to see, but stout and able,

1.rb - Sordello - Book the First, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  A castle building to defend a cot,
  A cot built for a castle to defend,
  Nothing but castles, castles, nor an end
  To boasts how mountain ridge may join with ridge
  --
  Goito; just a castle built amid
  A few low mountains; firs and larches hid
  --
  The castle at its toils, the lapwings love
  To glean among at grape-time. Pass within.
  --
        In this castle may be seen,
  On the hill tops, or underneath the vines,
  --
  Lady of the castle, Adelaide. His face
  Look, now he turns away! Yourselves shall trace
  --
  The castle too seemed empty; far and wide
  Might he disport; only the northern side

1.rb - Sordello - Book the Fourth, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  "I noted in Messina's castle-court
  "The day I came, when Heinrich asked in sport
  --
  Of the Capitol, of castle Angelo;
  New structures, that inordinately glow,

1.rb - Sordello - Book the Second, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  The castle and its covert, which confined
  Him with his hopes and fears; so fain of old
  --
  "Pluck me one cup from off the castle-moat!
  "Along with cup you raise leaf, stalk and root,
  --
  And castle. He had dropped through one defile
  He never dared explore, the Chief erewhile
  --
  Ah, the slim castle! dwindled of late years,
  But more mysterious; gone to ruintrails

1.rb - Sordello - Book the Sixth, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  Wild o'er his castle on the pleasant knoll,
  You hear its one tower left, a belfry, toll
  --
  On the square castle's inner-court's low wall
  Like the chine of some extinct animal

1.rb - Sordello - Book the Third, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
  "The castle-covert and the mountain-close,
  "Slow in appearing?if beneath it rose

1.rb - The Flight Of The Duchess, #Browning - Poems, #Robert Browning, #Poetry
   If you climb to our castle's top,
   I don't see where your eye can stop;
  --
  In the castle where the other Duke was-
   (When I was happy and young, not old!)
  --
   And see true castles, with proper towers,
  Young-hearted women, old-minded men,
  --
  Straight at the castle, that's best indeed
  To look at from outside the walls:
  --
  ``Let the dame of the castle prick forth on her jennet,
   ``And, with water to wash the hands of her liege
  --
  Toward his castle from out of the valley,
  Men and women, like new-hatched spiders,

1.rwe - Tact, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
  Opens castle and parlor,
  Address, man, Address.

1.rwe - Threnody, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
  And childhood's castles built or planned.
  His daily haunts I well discern,

1.rwe - Voluntaries, #Emerson - Poems, #Ralph Waldo Emerson, #Philosophy
  And rankly on the castled steep,--
  Speak it firmly, these are gods,

1.wby - In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
  From castle Taylor to the Roxborough side
  Or Esserkelly plain, few kept his pace;

1.wby - The Phases Of The Moon, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
  Beside the castle door, where all is stark
  Austerity, a place set out for wisdom

1.whitman - Song Of The Broad-Axe, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  The summons to surrender, the battering at castle gates, the truce
      and parley;

1.whitman - Song Of The Exposition, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
      French and Spanish castles;
   For know a better, fresher, busier spherea wide, untried domain
  --
   Those ancient temples classic, and castles strong and feudalistic,
   could none of them restrain her?
  --
   More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps,
   We plan, even now, to raise, beyond them all,

1.whitman - The Mystic Trumpeter, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   Ladies and cavaliers long deadbarons are in their castle hallsthe
      troubadours are singing;

1.whitman - Washingtons Monument, February, 1885, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Europe's as well, in every part, castle of lord or laborer's cot,
  Or frozen North, or sultry Souththe African'sthe Arab's in

1.ww - 4- The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  And castle, like a stately crown
  On the steep rocks of winding Tees;--
  --
  Upon that hostile castle made;--
  But dark and dismal is the vault

1.ww - Address To Kilchurn Castle, Upon Loch Awe, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - Address To Kilchurn castle, Upon Loch Awe
  author class:William Wordsworth

1.ww - Book Ninth [Residence in France], #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  Or to that rural castle, name now slipped
  From my remembrance, where a lady lodged,

1.ww - Book Sixth [Cambridge and the Alps], #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  And that monastic castle, 'mid tall trees,
  Low standing by the margin of the stream,

1.ww - Book Third [Residence at Cambridge], #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  Onward we drove beneath the castle; caught,
  While crossing Magdalene Bridge, a glimpse of Cam;

1.ww - Bothwell Castle, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - Bothwell castle
  author class:William Wordsworth

1.ww - Elegiac Stanzas Suggested By A Picture Of Peele Castle, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - Elegiac Stanzas Suggested By A Picture Of Peele castle
  author class:William Wordsworth
  --
   And this huge castle, standing here sublime,
   I love to see the look with which it braves,
  --
  indicates that Wordsworth had first seen the picture of Peele castle when staying
  at the London house of the painter in April-May 1806. Sir George Beaumont was

1.ww - Guilt And Sorrow, Or, Incidents Upon Salisbury Plain, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  What seems an antique castle spreading wide;
  Hoary and naked are its walls, and raise

1.ww - Lament Of Mary Queen Of Scots, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Sounded by the castle-clock!
  From her sunk eyes a stagnant tear

1.ww - Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland- 1803 XII. Sonnet Composed At ---- Castle, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland- 1803 XII. Sonnet Composed At ---- castle
  author class:William Wordsworth

1.ww - Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland- 1803 XII. Yarrow Unvisited, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  FROM Stirling castle we had seen
  The mazy Forth unravelled;

1.ww - Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - Song at the Feast of Brougham castle
  author class:William Wordsworth
  --
     Our strong-abodes and castles see
     The glory of their loyalty.
  --
  She that keepeth watch and ward: Appleby castle.
  122-27.

1.ww - Stanzas Written In My Pocket Copy Of Thomsons Castle Of Indolence, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - Stanzas Written In My Pocket Copy Of Thomsons castle Of Indolence
  author class:William Wordsworth
  --
  WITHIN our happy castle there dwelt One
  Whom without blame I may not overlook;

1.ww - The Excursion- IX- Book Eighth- The Parsonage, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Of some stern castle, mouldering on the brow
  Of a green hill or bank of rugged stream.

1.ww - The Highland Broach, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  In which the castle once took pride!
  Tokens, once kept as boasted wealth,

1.ww - The Horn Of Egremont Castle, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.ww - The Horn Of Egremont castle
  author class:William Wordsworth
  --
  To Egremont's Domains and castle fair.
  Heirs from times of earliest record
  --
  Forth they from the castle went,
  And at the head of their Array
  --
  His Brother's life, for Lands' and castle's sake?
  "Sir!" the Ruffians said to Hubert,
  --
  To his castle Hubert sped;
  Nothing has he now to dread.
  --
  Where by the castle-gate it hung forlorn.        
  'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace!
  --
  Ancient castle, woods, and mountains
  Hear the challenge with delight.

1.ww - The Idiot Boy, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Or in the castle he's pursuing
  Among the ghosts his own undoing;

1.ww - Yarrow Revisited, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   Once more, by Newark's castle-gate
    Long left without a warder,

1.ww - Yarrow Unvisited, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  From Stirling castle we had seen
   The mazy Forth unravelled;

20.04 - Act II: The Play on Earth, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 05, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   from her castle between heaven and earth,
   and to her,

2.01 - THE ARCANE SUBSTANCE AND THE POINT, #Mysterium Coniunctionis, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  [37] Further paradoxes: I am the black of the white and the red of the white and the yellow of the red;9 or The principle of the art is the raven, who flies without wings in the blackness of night and in the brightness of day.10 The stone is cold and moist in its manifest part, and in its hidden part is hot and dry.11 In lead is the dead life,12 or Burn in water and wash in fire.13 The Allegoriae sapientum speak of two figures, one of which is white and lacking a shadow, the other red and lacking the redness.14 A quotation from Socrates runs: Seek the coldness of the moon and ye shall find the heat of the sun.15 The opus is said to be a running without running, moving without motion.16 Make mercury with mercury.17 The philosophical tree has its roots in the air18 (this is probably a reference to the tree of the Sefiroth). That paradox and ambivalence are the keynotes of the whole work is shown by The Chymical Wedding: over the main portal of the castle two words are written: Congratulor, Condoleo.19
  [38] The paradoxical qualities of Mercurius have already been discussed in a separate study.20 As Mercurius is the principal name for the arcane substance, he deserves mention here as the paradox par excellence. What is said of him is obviously true of the lapis, which is merely another synonym for the thousand-named arcane substance. As the Tractatus aureus de Lapide says: Our matter has as many names as there are things in the world.21 The arcane substance is also synonymous with the Monad and the Son of Man mentioned in Hippolytus:
  --
  , the second God in man.43 The same author derives the gold from the dew or supracelestial balsam sinking into the earth. Here he is probably referring to the older formulations of Maier,44 where the sun generates the gold in the earth. Hence the gold, as Maier says, obtains a simplicity approaching that of the circle (symbol of eternity) and the indivisible point. The gold has a circular form.45 This is the line which runs back upon itself, like the snake that with its head bites its own tail, wherein that supreme and eternal painter and potter, God, may rightly be discerned.46 The gold is a twice-bisected circle, i.e., one divided into four quadrants and therefore a quaternity, a division made by nature that contraries may be bound together by contraries.47 It can therefore, he says, be compared to the sacred city, Jerusalem48 (cf. Revelation 21 : 10ff.). It is a golden castle engirt with a triple wall,49 a visible image of eternity.50 Though gold be mute so far as sound or voice is concerned, yet by virtue of its essence it proclaims and everywhere bears witness to God. And just as God is one in essence, so the gold is one homogeneous substance.51 For Dorn the unity of God,52 the unarius, is the centre of the ternarius, the latter corresponding to the circle drawn round the centre.53 The point as the centre of the quaternio of the elements is the place where Mercurius digests and perfects.54

2.01 - The Tavern, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  class:The castle of Crossed Destinies
  class:chapter

2.01 - War., #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  2.: In this part of the castle are found souls which have begun to practise prayer; they realize the importance of their not remaining in the first mansions, yet often lack determination to quit their present condition by avoiding occasions of sin, which is a very perilous state to be in.
  3.: However, it is a great grace that they should sometimes make good their escape from the vipers and poisonous creatures around them and should understand the need of avoiding them. In some way these souls suffer a great deal more than those in the first mansions, although not in such danger, as they begin to understand their peril and there are great hopes of their entering farther into the castle. I say that they suffer a great deal more, for those in an earlier stage are like deaf-mutes and are not so distressed at being unable to speak, while the others, who can hear but cannot talk, find it much harder. At the same time, it is better not to be deaf, and a decided advantage to hear what is said to us.
  4.: These souls hear our Lord calling them, for as they approach nearer to where His Majesty dwells He proves a loving Neighbour, though they may still be engaged in the amusements and business, the pleasures and vanities of this world. While in this state we continually fall into sin and rise again, for the creatures amongst whom we dwell are so venomous, so vicious, and so dangerous, that it is almost impossible to avoid being tripped up by them. Yet such are the pity and compassion of this Lord of ours, so desirous is He that we should seek Him and enjoy His company, that in one way or another He never ceases calling us to Him. So sweet is His voice, that the poor soul is disconsolate at being unable to follow His bidding at once, and therefore, as I said, suffers more than if it could not hear Him.
  --
  10.: Reason convinces the soul that as outside its interior castle are found neither peace nor security, it should cease to seek another home abroad, its own being full of riches that it can enjoy at will. Besides, it is not every one who, like itself, possesses all he needs within his own dwelling, and above all, such a Host, Who will give it all it can desire, unless, like the prodigal son, it chooses to go astray and feed with the swine.3' Surely these arguments are strong enough to defeat the devil's wiles! But, O my God, how the force of worldly habits and the example of others who practise them ruin everything! Our faith is so dead that we trust less to its teaching than to what is visible, though, indeed, we see that worldly lives bring nothing but unhappiness. All this results from those venomous thoughts I described, which, unless we are very careful, will deform the soul as the sting of a viper poisons and swells the body.
  11.: When this happens, great care is evidently needed to cure it, and only God's signal mercy prevents its resulting in death. Indeed, the soul passes through severe trials at this time, especially when the devil perceives from a person's character and behaviour that she is likely to make very great progress, for then all hell will league together to force her to turn back. O my Lord! what need there is here that, by Thy mercy, Thou shouldst prevent the soul from being deluded into forsaking the good begun! Enlighten it to see that its welfare consists in perseverance in the right way, and in the withdrawing from bad company.
  12.: It is of the utmost importance for the beginner to associate with those who lead a spiritual life,4' and not only with those in the same mansion as herself, but with others who have travelled farther into the castle, who will aid her greatly and draw her to join them. The soul should firmly resolve never to submit to defeat, for if the devil sees it staunchly determined to lose life and comfort and all that he can offer, rather than return to the first mansion, he will the sooner leave it alone.
  13.: Let the Christian be valiant; let him not be like those who lay down to drink from the brook when they went to battle (I do not remember when).5' Let him resolve to go forth to combat with the host of demons, and be convinced that there is no better weapon than the cross. I have already said,6' yet it is of such importance that I repeat it here: let no one think on starting of the reward to be reaped: this would be a very ignoble way of commencing such a large and stately building. If built on sand it would soon fall down.7' Souls who acted thus would continually suffer from discouragement and temptations, for in these mansions no manna rains;8' farther on, the soul is pleased with all that comes, because it desires nothing but what God wills.
  --
  19.: You may think, that if it is so very injurious to desist, it would have been better never to have begun, and to have remained outside the castle. But, as I began by saying, and as God Himself declares: 'He that loves danger shall perish by it,'18' and the door by which A drug greatly in vogue until recent times. It was composed of all the essences supposed to contain life-giving and life-preserving qualities of animals and plants. we must enter this castle is prayer. Remember, we must get to heaven, and it would be madness to think we could do so without sometimes retiring into our souls so as to know ourselves, or thinking of our failings and of what we owe to God, or frequently imploring His mercy. Our Lord also says, 'No man cometh to the Father but by Me'19' (I am not sure whether this quotation is correct, but I think so), and, 'He that seeth Me seeth the Father also.'20
  20.: If we never look up at Him and reflect on what we owe Him for having died for us, I do not understand how we can know Him, or perform good deeds in His service. What value is there in faith without works? and what are they worth if they are not united to the merits of Jesus Christ, our only good? What would incite us to love our Lord unless we thought of Him? May He give us grace to understand how much we cost Him; that 'the servant is not above his lord'21 ; that we must toil for Him if we would enjoy His glory; and prayer is a necessity to prevent us from constantly falling into temptation.22

2.02 - Meeting With the Goddess, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  speed of the wind shot past the end of the castle of Tubber Tintye;
  the prince sprang from its back through an open window, and
  --
  adventure at the well, heard a thumping at her castle door: the
  frog had arrived to press her to her bargain. And in spite of her

2.03 - Karmayogin A Commentary on the Isha Upanishad, #Isha Upanishad, #unset, #Zen
  building his castle of sand, as if the work were to be permanent
  and for all time.

2.05 - The Tale of the Vampires Kingdom, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  class:The castle of Crossed Destinies
  class:chapter
  --
  A jolt. The night is rent by a flash of lightning, high over the forest, toward the luminous city which at that instant vanishes in the darkness, as if the thunderbolt had fallen on the royal castle, beheading the highest Tower that scrapes the sky of the metropolis, or a sudden change of tension in the overloaded circuits of the Great Power Plant had darkened the world in the blackout.
  "Short circuit, long night," a proverb of ill augury returns to the mind of the gravedigger and to all of us, imagining ourselves (like Arcanum One, known as The Juggler) the engineers who at that moment are desperately dismantling the great Mechanical Brain to discover the fault in the confusion of springs, spools, electrodes, odds and ends.

2.06 - Two Tales of Seeking and Losing, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  class:The castle of Crossed Destinies
  class:chapter
  --
  Wastelands stretch out in the tarot of The Moon. On the shore of a lake of dead water there is a castle on whose Tower a curse has fallen. Amfortas, the Fisher King, lives there, and we see him here, old and infirm, pressing a wound that refuses to heal. Until that wound is cured, the wheel of transformations will be still, the wheel that passes from the light of the sun to the green of the leaves and to the gaiety of the equinox festivities in spring.
  Perhaps the sin of King Amfortas is a cluttered wisdom, a saddened knowledge, kept perhaps at the bottom of the vessel Parsifal sees carried in procession up the steps of the castle, and he would like to know what it is, but still he remains silent. Parsifal's strong point is that he is so new to the world and so occupied with the fact of being in the world that it never occurs to him to ask questions about what he sees. And yet one question of his would suffice, a first question that releases the question of everything in the world that has never asked anything, and then the deposit of centuries collected at the bottom of pots in excavations is dissolved, the eras crushed among the telluric strata begin to flow again, the future recovers the past, the pollen of the abundant seasons buried for millennia in peat bogs starts drifting once more, rising on the dust of the years of drought.'.'.'.
  I do not know for how long (hours or years) Faust and Parsifal have been intent on retracing their routes, card after card, on the table of the tavern. But every time they bend over the tarots, their story reads another way, undergoes corrections, variants, affected by the moods of the day and the train of thoughts, oscillating between two poles: all and nothing.

2.07 - I Also Try to Tell My Tale, #The Castle of Crossed Destinies, #Italo Calvino, #Fiction

2.08 - Three Tales of Madness and Destruction, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  class:The castle of Crossed Destinies
  class:chapter
  --
  In fact, the three who now started quarreling did so with solemn gestures as if declaiming, and while all three pointed to the same card, with their free hand and with evocative grimaces they exerted themselves to convey that those figures were to be interpreted this way and not that. Now in the card whose name varies according to custom and language-The Tower, The House of God, The House of the Devil-a young man carrying a sword, you would say for the purpose of scratching his flowing blond hair (now white), recognizes the platform before Elsinore castle when the night's blackness is rent by an apparition which freezes the sentinels in fear: the majestic march of a ghost whose grizzled beard and shining helmet and breastplate cause him to resemble both the tarots' Emperor and the late king of Denmark, who has returned to demand Justice. In such questionable shape, the cards lend themselves to the young man's silent interrogation: "Why the sepulchre hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws that thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, revisit'st thus the glimpses of The Moon?"
  He is interrupted by a lady who, with distraught eye, insists she recognizes in that same Tower the castle of Dunsinane when the vengeance darkly prophesied by the witches will be unleashed: Birnam Wood will move, climbing the slopes of the hill, hosts and hosts of trees will advance, their roots torn from the earth, their boughs outstretched as in the Ten of Clubs, attacking the fortress, and the usurper will learn that Macduff, born through a sword's slash, is the one who, with a slash of the Sword, will cut off his head. And thus the sinister juxtaposition of cards finds a meaning: Popess, or prophesying sorceress; Moon, or night in which thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd, and the hedgepig whin'd, and newt, frog, and adders allow themselves to be caught for the broth; Wheel, or stirring of the bubbling cauldron where witches' mummy is dissolved with gall of goat, wool of bat, finger of birth-strangled babe, poisoned entrails, tails of shitting monkeys, just as the most senseless signs the witches mix in their brew sooner or later find a meaning that confirms them and reduces you, you and your logic, to a gruel.
  But an old man's trembling finger is now pointed at the Arcanum of the Tower and the Thunderbolt. In his other hand he holds up the figure of the King of Cups, surely to make us recognize him, since no royal attributes remain on his derelict person: nothing in the world has been left him by his unnatural daughters (this is what he seems to say, pointing to two portraits of cruel, crowned ladies and then at the squalid landscape of the Moon), and now others want to usurp even this card from him, the proof of how he was driven from his palace, emptied from the walls like a can of rubbish, abandoned to the fury of the elements. Now he inhabits the storm and the rain and the wind as if he could have no other home, as if the world were allowed to contain only hail and thunder and tempest, just as his mind now houses only wind and thunderbolts and madness. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all chromosomes spill at once that make ungrateful man! We read this hurricane of thoughts in the eyes of the old sovereign seated in our midst, his bent shoulders huddled no longer in his ermine mantle but in a Hermit's habit, as if he were still wandering by lantern light over the heath without shelter, the Fool his only support and mirror of his madness.
  --
  Even our less contemplative fellow guest, otherwise known as the Queen of Swords or Lady Macbeth, at the sight of The Hermit's card seems distraught: perhaps she sees there another ghostly apparition, the hooded shade of the butchered Banquo, advancing with difficulty along the corridors of the castle, to sit down uninvited at the place of honor at the banquet, shaking his gory locks into the soup. Or else she recognizes her husb and in person, Macbeth, who has murdered sleep: by the lantern's glow in the night he visits the guests' rooms, hesitating like a mosquito who dislikes staining the pillowcases. My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white!, his wife taunts and drives him, but this does not mean she is so much worse than he: they have shared the roles like a devoted couple, marriage is the encounter of two egoisms that grind each other reciprocally and from which spread the cracks in the foundations of civilized society, the pillars of public welfare stand on the viper's eggshells of private barbarity.
  And yet we have seen that in The Hermit, with far more verisimilitude, King Lear has recognized himself, outcast and mad, roaming in search of the angelic Cordelia (there, Temperance is another lost card, and it is all his fault, this time), the daughter he failed to understand and unjustly drove out while lending credence to the lying treachery of Regan and Goneril. With daughters, whatever a father does is wrong: authoritarian or permissive, parents can never expect to be thanked. The generations stare at each other grimly, they speak only to misunderstand each other, to trade blame for growing up unhappy and dying disappointed.

2.12 - ON SELF-OVERCOMING, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
  Along stealthy paths the weaker steals into the castle
  and into the very heart of the more powerful-and

2.1.5.4 - Arts, #On Education, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  Two other details can be noted with interest. One is the snow shower that saves the party from the influence of the wicked witch who by her black magic has stopped their advance towards the emerald castle of beneficent vitality. In the vital world, snow is the symbol of purity. It is the purity of their feelings and intentions that saves them from the great danger. Note also that to go to the castle of the good wizard they must follow the broad path of golden bricks, the path of luminous confidence and joy.
  The second is: when Dorothy throws water on the straw man to save him from burning, some water falls on the face of the wicked witch who lit the fire and at once she gets dissolved and dies. The water is the symbol of the power of purification and no hostile being or force can resist this power handled with goodwill and sincerity.

2.19 - THE SOOTHSAYER, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
  upon the lonely mountain castle of death. Up there I
  guarded his coffins: the musty vaults were full of such
  --
  whistling that tears open the gates of the castles of
  death? Are you not yourself the coffin full of colorful

30.06 - The Poet and The Seer, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   What Plato says does not, on reflection, appear to be utterly worthless. The vital world is the source of the poet and all other artists who are creators. When the vital is stirred things spring up from it and take shape. This vital itself is the magic power of the urge for enjoyment and action. For the satisfaction of these two urges towards delight and enjoyment the vital is constantly engaged in creating things. The spell of the vital does not care to find how far they are truth, and how much is their worth in terms of the right and the ultimate good. It is enough if it can build a castle in the air and derive joy from it. But it is not at all necessary that the castle in the air should be a reality.2
   The poet says,

30.11 - Modern Poetry, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   But why? What is the intention? What purpose does it serve? First of all, we do not want any more of the poetic in poetry, we do not want imagination, we do not want anything of castles in the air. We want the real, the rude, not the good and the beautiful. Strong feeling, powerful emotion - these you want. Such materials are lying about in ordinary day-to-day life; you need not soar into the skies and rummage the Heavens. The true interest and meaning of life are inherent in the workaday world's ways and manners. Not so? Well, listen further to Eliot:
   HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME

3.01 - Fear of God, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity

3.02 - Aridity in Prayer, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity

3.02 - King and Queen, #The Practice of Psycho therapy, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  persecution. They reach the princes castle, where the sister is recognized
  by her brothers servant. But her brother cannot tell the two girls apart,

3.11 - Spells, #Advanced Dungeons and Dragons 2E, #unset, #Zen
    Creatures receiving the impulse automatically know who sent it (even if they have never met the priest before) and gain a clear indication of the mood and situation of the caster. Recipients also intuitively know the general source of the spell, although they are unable to pinpoint rooms, dungeon levels, or landmarks. For example, a fighter could suddenly be struck by an image of Father Rastibon, who is injured and in great pain somewhere along the forest road. A priest might suddenly sense that his patriarch is being tortured in the dungeons of castle Varrack.
    The spell can also be cast by more than one priest, allowing them to either contact greater numbers of individuals or increase the intensity of the message. If greater numbers are desired, ten characters are contacted per priest involved in the casting.

32.04 - The Human Body, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   God having become a man shows by example how one can rise to a godly or divine nature from a human nature. God reveals this sadhana through his human life. Man knows himself as sinful, afflicted, weak and helpless. To him the spiritual realisation, the divine Life, the divine Consciousness may seem to be futile and hollow dreams, like the castle in the air. These are only luxurious idealisms which are not for all, at least for many. Only a few that are heroic, adventurous and self-confident can afford to spend time and labour in this direction. In order to drive away this error, this false notion, this familiar and common disbelief, God has wanted to show, by way of a practical demonstration, as it were, how to rise above human weakness. In man, in spite of his numerous weaknesses, there abides a divine Power by virtue of which even the dumb can be endowed with eloquence.
   The second mystery is this that not only for the individual but for the collectivity the human form of God has a special significance. God comes down to the lower level. He abides by His own laws to transform them. He destroys whatever has to be destroyed. He purifies whatever has to be purified. He protects and enriches whatever has to be protected and enriched. This is His mission. That means a collision, a definite battle. Consequently the divine Body too has to undergo scars. That is the law of this plane, that is the rule of His game. But it is thus that God clears the road, makes the path easy. On behalf of man God conquers Nature so that it may be easy for man to reconquer it. A question may be raised here: "the conquest of nature or the transformation of nature - cannot God effect it from His own Self or the World-Self? What necessity is there to accept a human form in order to do the work?" First of all, if God were to do everything in a subtle way, then why was the physical created, for what purpose? We have said that this Matter, this world, this very earth, this earthly body itself, are the field for God's lila,the centre and knot of the mystery of the creation. All disembodied powers and personalities want to come down on earth and be embodied in order to have all the privileges of this place. The Asuras want this, the Gods want this, therefore God too has to come down. He has to experience the full expression of body by becoming an embodied being. Secondly, this body has its own purpose and fulfilment. The body has grown out of inconscient Matter, it is born here below to become purified and transformed into the divine substance. Moreover, from some other sphere, from a consciousness transcendent and immanent, to act on the earth or its Matter or on some particular receptacles, means to apply an alien force, an attempt to impose a different principle. There is a necessity for this process and the power does act in this way, but something else must accompany this process. On our part that something is more important. It is the body's own conscious will, the self-offering and the self-opening of Matter - not because of an influence, impulsion or pressure from elsewhere; the material body of its own accord, by a demand from within, has to seek the Reality beyond Matter and body. That is why the divine Body shows how even Matter can aspire for spirituality and proves that Matter is not absolutely inert, in it too abides a consciousness and a conscious aspiration.

32.07 - The God of the Scientist, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   The reasoning faculty, the intellectual power of the mental being is the instrument by which the scientist carries on his search after truth. If he wants to remain strictly faithful to reality as it appears, then he cannot exceed the realm of sense-perceptions. But without reason he will simply indulge in chimeras and build castles in the air which are but deformations of: sense-perceptions. Bergson the philosopher, however, opines that the intellect by itself cannot go beyond the domain of sense-knowledge, because it comes into being and exists in the field of the senses by way of a necessity and as a reaction of the senses to their objects. The intellectual faculty develops in man so that he may handle material things properly and effectively. The so-called universal truths or laws of Nature that the scientist discovers by virtue of his keen intellect have their chief advantage in enabling one to deal with the external world with considerable ease. That is why the scientist is blind to any other mystery than that of Matter. This is a defect pertaining to and inherent in his nature. Be that as it may, we have still to say that the intellect has attained its acme in the scientist. The speciality of the intellect has found its best manifestation in him. On the basis of the wealth of sense-perceptions and by their analysis and synthesis and by observation and experimentation, to arrive at a universal law as wide as possible marks the special genius of the scientist.
   The mysteries of Nature that have been discovered by scientific methods are not the last word or the whole of her truth. However, it may be said: There is no other means of arriving at the realistic truth. By treading any other path we can get into the worlds of imagination, poetry, illusion and delusion, surely not into the world of realities. We shall have occasion to say something about the possibility of other ways of knowledge and enquiry into the truth. For the present, we shall try to investigate whether the scientific method can lead us any further. And the scientists who have made such an advancement in knowledge - where have they arrived and what is the value of their work?

33.17 - Two Great Wars, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   As Hitler was threatening to cover, as with an ominous comet's tail, the whole of earth and sky, one of our sadhaks here sent up to Sri Aurobindo his wail, "What, O Guru, is this happening to the comforting words you gave? Don't you see that the earth is getting on to the verge of ruin? Where, O Saviour, are you?" Sri Aurobindo's reply was a quiet admonition, "Where is the worry? Hitler is not immortal." After a short while the castle that Hitler had built was blown to the winds like a pack of cards. It was as if an all-englobing fog had been puffed away by a breath, a frightful nightmare had got dissolved in the light of the dawn.
   ***

3.6.01 - Heraclitus, #Essays In Philosophy And Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  Heraclitus was regarded in ancient times as a pessimistic thinker and we have one or two sayings of his from which we can, if we like, deduce the old vain gospel of the vanity of things. Time, he says, is playing draughts like a child, amusing itself with counters, building castles on the sea-shore only to throw them down again. If that is the last word, then all human effort and aspiration are vain. But on what primary philosophical conception does this discouraging sentence depend? Everything turns on that; for in itself this is no more than an assertion of a self-evident fact, the mutability of things and the recurrent transiency of forms. But if the principles which express themselves in forms are eternal or if there is a Spirit in things which finds its account in the mutations and evolutions of Time and if that Spirit dwells in the human being as the immortal and infinite power of his soul, then no conclusion of the vanity of the world or the vanity of human existence arises. If indeed the original and eternal principle of Fire is a purely physical substance or force, then, truly, since all the great play and effort of consciousness in us must sink and dissolve into that, there can be no permanent spiritual value in our being, much less in our works. But we have seen that Heraclitus' Fire cannot be a purely physical or inconscient principle. Does he then mean that all our existence is merely a continual changeable Becoming, a play or Lila with no purpose in it except the playing and no end except the conviction of the vanity of all cosmic activity by its relapse into the indistinguishable unity of the original principle or substance? For even if that principle, the One to which the many return, be not merely physical or not really physical at all, but spiritual, we may still, like the Mayavadins, affirm the vanity of the world and of our human existence, precisely because the one is not eternal and the other has no eventual aim except its own self-abolition after the conviction of the vanity and unreality of all its temporal interests and purposes. Is the conviction of the world by the one absolute Fire such a conviction of the vanity of all the temporal and relative values of the Many?
  That is one sense in which we can understand the thought of Heraclitus. His idea of all things as born of war and existing by strife might, if it stood by itself, lead us to adopt, even if he himself did not clearly arrive at, that conclusion. For if all is a continual struggle of forces, its best aspect only a violent justice and the highest harmony only a tension of opposites without any hope of a divine reconciliation, its end a conviction and destruction by eternal Fire, all our ideal hopes and aspirations are out of place; they have no foundation in the truth of things. But there is another side to the thought of Heraclitus. He says indeed that all things come into being "according to strife", by the clash of forces, are governed by the determining justice of war. He says farther that all is utterly determined, fated. But what then determines? The justice of a clash of forces is not fate; forces in conflict determine indeed, but from moment to moment, according to a constantly changing balance always modifiable by the arising of new forces. If there is predetermination, an inevitable fate in things, then there must be some power behind the conflict which determines them, fixes their measures. What is that power? Heraclitus tells us; all indeed comes into being according to strife, but also all things come into being according to Reason, kat' erin but also kata ton logon. What is this Logos? It is not an inconscient reason in things, for his Fire is not merely an inconscient force, it is Zeus and eternity. Fire, Zeus is Force, but it is also an Intelligence; let us say then that it is an intelligent Force which is the origin and master of things. Nor can this Logos be identical in its nature with the human reason; for that is an individual and therefore relative and partial judgment and intelligence which can only seize on relative truth, not on the true truth of things, but the Logos is one and universal, an absolute reason therefore combining and managing all the relativities of the many. Was not then Philo justified in deducing from this idea of an intelligent Force originating and governing the world, Zeus and Fire, his interpretation of the Logos as "the divine dynamic, the energy and the self-revelation of God"? Heraclitus might not so have phrased it, might not have seen all that his thought contained, but it does contain this sense when his different sayings are fathomed and put together in their consequences.

4.01 - Sweetness in Prayer, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  4.: I will now describe, as I promised, the difference between sweetness in prayer and spiritual consolations. It appears to me that what we acquire for ourselves in meditation and petitions to our Lord may be termed 'sweetness in devotion.'7' It is natural, although ultimately aided by the grace of God. I must be understood to imply this in all I say, for we can do nothing without Him. This sweetness arises principally from the good work we perform, and appears to result from our labours: well may we feel happy at having thus spent our time. We shall find, on consideration, that many temporal matters give us the same pleasure-such as unexpectedly coming into a large fortune, suddenly meeting with a dearly-loved friend, or succeeding in any important or influential affair which makes a sensation in the world. Again, it would be felt by one who had been told her husband, brother, or son was dead, and who saw him return to her alive. I have seen people weep from such happiness, as I have done myself. I consider both these joys and those we feel in religious matters to be natural ones. Although there is nothing wrong about the former, yet those produced by devotion spring from a more noble source-in short, they begin in ourselves and end in God. Spiritual consolations, on the contrary, arise from God, and our nature feels them and rejoices as keenly in them, and indeed far more keenly, than in the others I described. The first three mansions of the Interior castle correspond with the 'first water,' or the prayer of Meditation, explained in ch. xi-xiii. of the Life; the fourth mansion, or the prayer of Quiet, with the 'second water,' Life, ch. xiv. and xv.; the fifth mansion, or the prayer of Union, with the 'third water,' Life, ch. xvi. and xvii.; and the sixth mansion, ecstasy, etc., with the 'fourth water,' Life, ch. xviii.-xxi.
  5.: O Jesus! how I wish I could elucidate this point! It seems to me that I can perfectly distinguish the difference between the two joys, yet I have not the skill to make myself understood; may God give it me! I remember a verse we say at Prime at the end of the final Psalm; the last words are: 'Cum dilatasti cor meum'-'When Thou didst dilate my heart:8' To those with much experience, this suffices to show the difference between sweetness in prayer and spiritual consolations; other people will require more explanation. The sensible devotion I mentioned does not dilate the heart, but generally appears to narrow it slightly; although joyful at seeing herself work for God, yet such a person sheds tears of sorrow which seem partly produced by the passions. I know little about the passions of the soul, or I could write of them more clearly and could better define what comes from the sensitive disposition and what is natural, having passed through this state myself, but I am very stupid. Knowledge and learning are a great advantage to every one.
  --
  9.: Do Thou, O Lord, take into account all that we suffer in this way through our ignorance. We err in thinking that we need only know that we must keep our thoughts fixed on Thee. We do not understand that we should consult those better instructed than ourselves, nor are we aware that there is anything for us to learn. We pass through terrible trials, on account of not understanding our own nature and take what is not merely harmless, but good, for a grave fault. This causes the sufferings felt by many people, particularly by the unlearned, who practise prayer. They complain of interior trials, become melancholy, lose their health, and even give up prayer altogether for want of recognizing that we have within ourselves as it were, an interior world. We cannot stop the revolution of the heavens as they rush with velocity upon their course, neither can we control our imagination. When this wanders we at once imagine that all the powers of the soul follow it; we think everything is lost, and that the time spent in God's presence is wasted. Meanwhile, the soul is perhaps entirely united to Him in the innermost mansions, while the imagination is in the precincts of the castle, struggling with a thousand wild and venomous creatures and gaining merit by its warfare. Therefore we need not let ourselves be disturbed, nor give up prayer, as the devil is striving to persuade us. As a rule, all our anxieties and troubles come from misunderstanding our own nature.
  10.: Whilst writing this I am thinking of the loud noise in my head which I mentioned in the Introduction, and which has made it almost impossible to obey the comm and given me to write this. It sounds as if there were a number of rushing waterfalls within my brain, while in other parts, drowned by the sound of the waters, are the voices of birds singing and whistling. This tumult is not in my ears, but in the upper part of my head, where, they say, is placed the superior part of the soul. I have long thought that this must be so because the flight of the spirit seems to take place from this part with great velocity.13' Please God I may recollect to explain the cause when writing of the latter mansions, this not being the proper place for it. It may be that God has sent this suffering in my head to help me to understand the matter, for all this tumult in my brain does not interfere with my prayer, nor with my speaking to you, but the great calm and love and desires in my soul remain undisturbed and my mind is clear.

4.02 - Divine Consolations., #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity

4.03 - Prayer of Quiet, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  1.: The Prayer of recollection compared to the inhabitants of the castle. 2. The Shepherd recalls His flock into the castle. 3. This recollection supernatural. 4. It prepares us for higher favours. 5. The mind must act until God calls it to recollection by love. 6. The soul should here abandon itself into God's hands. 7. The prayer of recollection, and distractions in Prayer. 8. Liberty of spirit gained by consolations. 9. The soul must be watchful. 10. The devil specially tempts such souls. 11. False trances and raptures. 12. How to treat those deluded in this way. 13. Risks of delusion in this mansion.
  1.: THE effects of divine consolations are very numerous: before describing them, I will speak of another kind of prayer which usually precedes them. I need not say much on this subject, having written about it elsewhere.26' This is a kind of recollection which, I believe, is supernatural. There is no occasion to retire nor to shut the eyes, nor does it depend on anything exterior; involuntarily the eyes suddenly close and solitude is found. Without any labour of one's own, the temple of which I spoke is reared for the soul in which to pray: the senses and exterior surroundings appear to lose their hold, while the spirit gradually regains its lost sovereignty. Some say the soul enters into itself; others, that it rises above itself.27' I can say nothing about these terms, but had better speak of the subject as I understand it. You will probably grasp my meaning, although, perhaps, I may be the only person who understands it. Let us imagine that the senses and powers of the soul (which I compared in my allegory to the inhabitants of the castle) have fled and joined the enemy outside. After long days and years of absence, perceiving how great has been their loss, they return to the neighbourhood of the castle, but cannot manage to re-enter it, for their evil habits are hard to break off; still, they are no longer traitors, and they wander about outside. This is fully borne out by the present chapter. In the corresponding part of her Life she practically confounded the prayer of recollection with the prayer of quiet (the second state of the soul). Likewise, in the Way of Perfection, ch. xxviii., she speaks of but one kind of prayer of recollection and then passes on to the prayer of quiet. Here, however, she mentions a second form of the prayer of recollection. The former is not supernatural, in the sense that with special grace from above it can be acquired; the second is altogether supernatural and more like gratuitous grace (ibid. no. 80 and 81). On the meaning of 'Solitude,' 'Silence,' etc., The edition of Burgos (vol. iv, P. 59) refers appropriately to the following passage in the Tercer Abecedario by the Franciscan friar Francisco de Osuna, a work which exercised a profound influence on St. Teresa: 'Entering within oneself; and rising above oneself, are the two principal points in this exercise, those which, above all others, one ought to strive after, and which give the highest satisfaction to the soul.
  2.: The King, Who holds His court within it, sees their good will, and out of His great mercy desires them to return to Him. Like a good Shepherd, He plays so sweetly on His pipe, that although scarcely hearing it they recognize His call and no longer wander, but return, like lost sheep, to the mansions. So strong is this Pastor's power over His flock, that they abandon the worldly cares which misled them and re-enter the castle.
  3.: I think I never put this matter so clearly before. To seek God within ourselves avails us far more than to look for Him amongst creatures; Saint Augustine tells us how he found the Almighty within his own soul, after having long sought for Him elsewhere.28' This recollection helps us greatly when God bestows it upon us. But do not fancy you can gain it by thinking of God dwelling within you, or by imagining Him as present in your soul: this is a good practice and an excellent kind of meditation, for it is founded on the fact that God resides within us;29' it is not, however, the prayer of recollection, for by the divine assistance less labour in entering within oneself than in rising above oneself and therefore it appears to me that when the soul is ready and fit for either, you ought to do the former, because the other will follow without any effort, and will be all the more pure and spiritual; however, follow what course your soul prefers as this will bring you more grace and benefit,' (Tr. ix, ch, viii). Some editors of the Interior castle think that St. Teresa refers to the following passage taken from the Confessions of St. Augustine: 'Too late have I loved Thee, O Beauty, ever ancient yet ever new! too late have I loved Thee! And behold, Thou wert within me and I abroad, and there I searched for Thee, and, deformed as I was, I pursued the beauties that Thou hast made. Thou wert with me, but I was not with Thee. Those things kept me far from Thee, which, unless they were in Thee, could have had no being' (St. Augustine's Confessions, bk. x, ch. xxvii.). The Confessions of St. Augustine were first translated into Spanish by Sebastian Toscano, a Portuguese Augustinian. This edition, which was published at Salamanca in 1554, was the one used by St. Teresa. St. Teresa quotes a passage which occurs in a pious book entitled Soliloquia, and erroneously attributed to St. Augustine: 'I have gone about the streets and the broad ways of the city of this world seeking Thee, but have not found Thee for I was wrong in seeking without for what was within.' (ch. xxxi.) This treatise which is also quoted by St. John of the Cross, Spiritual Canticle, stanza i. 7, Ascent of Mount Carmel, bk. i. ch. v. 1, appeared in a Spanish translation at Valladolid in 1515, at Medina del Campo in 1553, and at Toledo in 1565. every one can practise it, but what I mean is quite a different thing. Sometimes, before they have begun to think of God, the powers of the soul find themselves within the castle. I know not by what means they entered, nor how they heard the Shepherd's pipe; the ears perceived no sound but the soul is keenly conscious of a delicious sense of recollection experienced by those who enjoy this favour, which I cannot describe more clearly.
  4.: I think I read somewhere30 that the soul is then like a tortoise or sea-urchin, which retreats into itself. Those who said this no doubt understood what they were talking about; but these creatures can withdraw into themselves at will, while here it is not in our power to retire into ourselves, unless God gives us the grace. In my opinion, His Majesty only bestows this favour on those who have renounced the world, in desire at least, if their state of life does not permit their doing so in fact. He thus specially calls them to devote themselves to spiritual things; if they allow Him power to at freely He will bestow still greater graces on those whom He thus begins calling to a higher life. Those who enjoy this recollection should thank God fervently: it is of the highest importance for them to realize the value of this favour, gratitude for which would prepare them to receive still more signal graces. Some books advise that as a preparation for hearing what our Lord may say to us we should keep our minds at rest, waiting to see what He will work in our souls.31' But unless His Majesty has begun to suspend our faculties, I cannot understand how we are to stop thinking, without doing ourselves more harm than good. This point has been much debated by those learned in spiritual matters; I confess my want of humility in having been unable to yield to their opinion.32

4.04 - Conclusion, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  stands a domed castle. I enter and go up a winding stairway to
  the left. Arriving inside the dome, I find myself in the presence

5.4.01 - Notes on Root-Sounds, #Vedic and Philological Studies, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
   fort, castle Contain
   see also

5 - The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairytales, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  takes him to a castle, where the sister is living with the old man
  as his wife. She tells her brother that the old man is a wicked
  --
  Towards noon, he reaches a castle in which a young girl lives.
  Here he finds that the tree goes no higher. She is a king's daugh-
  --
  rooms of the castle: one room alone she forbids him to enter.
  But curiosity is too strong. He unlocks the door, and there in
  --
  locked up in the one forbidden room of the castle and fixed to
  the wall with three nails, as though crucified. He is imprisoned,
  --
  The prison of both is a magic castle at the top of a gigantic tree,
  presumably the world-tree. The princess belongs to the upper
  --
  the magic castle where he is to rescue the princess, our young
  hero is permitted to enter all the rooms but one, the very room
  --
  in the forbidden room in her castle. When Ivan slakes the old
  devil's thirst he makes off with the queen. The magic riding

6.08 - Intellectual Visions, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity

6.09 - Imaginary Visions, #The Interior Castle or The Mansions, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity

6.0 - Conscious, Unconscious, and Individuation, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  7. castle, city, and courtyard (temenos) motifs, quadratic or
  circular.
  --
  sented by a castle with a golden roof. It too is surrounded by a
  moat. The ground round the castle is laid with black and white
  tiles, representing the united opposites. This mandala was done
  --
  of the Yellow castle says: 'In the square inch field of the
  square foot house, life can be regulated.' The square foot
  --
  Grail, castle of the, 19, 24
  grain, field of, 193
  --
  Yellow castle, Book of the, 377
  Yesod, 31472

Averroes Search, #Labyrinths, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
  essential part of my reflections), time, which despoils castles, enriches
  verses. Zuhair's verse, when he composed it in Arabia, served to confront

BOOK II. -- PART III. ADDENDA. SCIENCE AND THE SECRET DOCTRINE CONTRASTED, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
  of phylogeny is a castle in the air, and genealogical trees (from monkeys?) are empty plays of
  phantasy, they only in speaking thus demonstrate their ignorance of that wealth of empirical sources

Book of Genesis, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
  15 Hadad, and Tema, Jetur, Naphish, and Kedemah: 16 These are the sons of Ishmael, and these are their names, by their towns, and by their castles; twelve princes according to their nations. 17 And these are the years of the life of Ishmael, an hundred and thirty and seven years: and he gave up the ghost and died; and was gathered unto his people. 18 And they dwelt from Havilah unto Shur, that is before Egypt, as thou goest toward Assyria: and he died in the presence of all his brethren.
  The Offspring of Isaac and Rebekah: Esau and Jacob

Book of Imaginary Beings (text), #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  from the fields and castles and towns, drawn on by the
  fragrance and the music. The dragon is the age-old enemy,

BOOK XXII. - Of the eternal happiness of the saints, the resurrection of the body, and the miracles of the early Church, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
  Lucillus bishop of Sinita, in the neighbourhood of the colonial town of Hippo, was carrying in procession some relics of the same martyr, which had been deposited in the castle of Sinita. A fistula under which he had long laboured, and which his private physician was watching an opportunity to cut, was suddenly cured by the mere carrying of that sacred fardel,[981]at least, afterwards there was no trace of it in his body.
  Eucharius, a Spanish priest, residing at Calama, was for a long time a sufferer from stone. By the relics of the same martyr, which the bishop Possidius brought him, he was cured. Afterwards the same priest, sinking under another disease, was lying dead, and already they were binding his hands. By the succour of the same martyr he was raised to life, the priest's cloak having been brought from the oratory and laid upon the corpse.

BS 1 - Introduction to the Idea of God, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  Ill start with this, because its the right question: why bother doing this? And I dont mean why should I bother I have my own reasons for doing it but you might think, why bother with this strange old book at all? Thats a good question. Its a contradictory document thats been cobbled together over thousands of years. Its outlasted many, many kingdoms. Its really interesting that it turns out a book is more durable than stone. Its more durable than a castle. Its more durable than an empire. Its really interesting that something so evanescent can be so long-living. So theres that; thats kind of a mystery.
  Im approaching this whole scenario, the Biblical stories, as if theyre a mystery, fundamentally because they are. Theres a lot we dont understand about them. We dont understand how they came about. We don't really understand how they were put together. We dont understand why they had such an unbelievable impact on civilization. We dont understand how people could have believed them. We don't understand what it means that we dont believe them now, or even what it would mean if we did believe them. On top of all that, theres the additional problemwhich isnt specific to me, but is certainly relevant to me that, no matter how educated you are, youre not educated enough to discuss the psychological significance of the Biblical stories. But Im going to do my best, partly because I want to learn more about them. One of the things I've learned is that one of the best ways to learn about something is to talk about it. When I'm lecturing, Im thinking. Im not trying to tell you what I know for sure to be the case, because theres lots of things that I dont know for sure to be the case. Im trying to make sense out of this, and I have been doing this for a long time.

Chapter III - WHEREIN IS RELATED THE DROLL WAY IN WHICH DON QUIXOTE HAD HIMSELF DUBBED A KNIGHT, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  arms in the chapel of this your castle; thus tomorrow, as I have said, will be accomplished what I so much
  desire, enabling me lawfully to roam through all the four quarters of the world seeking adventures on behalf
  --
  of almost every tribunal and court of justice in Spain; until at last he had retired to this castle of his, where he
  was living upon his property and upon that of others; and where he received all knights-errant of whatever
  --
  with him in return for his benevolence. He told him, moreover, that in this castle of his there was no chapel in
  which he could watch his armour, as it had been pulled down in order to be rebuilt, but that in a case of
  --
  calling them knaves and traitors, and the lord of the castle, who allowed knights-errant to be treated in this
  fashion, a villain and a low-born knight whom, had he received the order of knighthood, he would call to
  --
  said, there was no chapel in the castle, nor was it needed for what remained to be done, for, as he understood
  the ceremonial of the order, the whole point of being dubbed a knight lay in the accolade and in the slap on
  --
  be dubbed knight, he would not, he thought, leave a soul alive in the castle, except such as out of respect he
  might spare at his bidding.

Chapter II - WHICH TREATS OF THE FIRST SALLY THE INGENIOUS DON QUIXOTE MADE FROM HOME, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  and hungry, when, looking all around to see if he could discover any castle or shepherd's shanty where he
  might refresh himself and relieve his sore wants, he perceived not far out of his road an inn, which was as
  --
  the fashion of what he read of, the moment he saw the inn he pictured it to himself as a castle with its four
  turrets and pinnacles of shining silver, not forgetting the drawbridge and moat and all the belongings usually
  ascribed to castles of the sort. To this inn, which to him seemed a castle, he advanced, and at a short distance
  from it he checked Rocinante, hoping that some dwarf would show himself upon the battlements, and by
  sound of trumpet give notice that a knight was approaching the castle. But seeing that they were slow about it,
  and that Rocinante was in a hurry to reach the stable, he made for the inn door, and perceived the two gay
  --
  ease at the castle gate.
  At this moment it so happened that a swineherd who was going through the stubbles collecting a drove of pigs
  --
  for ladies of high degree belonging to the castle, he said to them with great sprightliness:
  Oh, never, surely, was there knight So served by hand of dame, As served was he, Don Quixote hight, When
  --
  four or five times, and thereby completely convinced Don Quixote that he was in some famous castle, and that
  they were regaling him with music, and that the stockfish was trout, the bread the whitest, the wenches ladies,
  and the landlord the castellan of the castle; and consequently he held that his enterprise and sally had been to
  some purpose. But still it distressed him to think he had not been dubbed a knight, for it was plain to him he

Chapter I - WHICH TREATS OF THE CHARACTER AND PURSUITS OF THE FAMOUS GENTLEMAN DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  all he admired Reinaldos of Montalban, especially when he saw him sallying forth from his castle and robbing
  everyone he met, and when beyond the seas he stole that image of Mahomet which, as his history says, was

Guru Granth Sahib first part, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  If I made a donation of castles of gold, and gave lots of fine horses and wondrous elephants in charity,
  and if I made donations of land and cows-even then, pride and ego would still be within me.

Kafka and His Precursors, #Labyrinths, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
  illustrious problem is, exactly, that of The castle, and the moving object and
  the arrow and Achilles are the first Kafkian characters in literature. In the
  --
  warriors leaves an infinite castle, conquers kingdoms and sees monsters and
  exhausts the deserts and the mountains, but they never reach Carcassonne,

Liber 46 - The Key of the Mysteries, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
   castle". This variant could be translated as "sheath in Shushan
   castle".) Beneath this: "DANIEL ch. 8." The text to the left cannot be
   rendered accurately owing to similarity of letter shapes and no direct
  --
   does mention the castle at Shusah, cited in the versicle to the right.
   Possibly the whole thing is a continuation of a paraphrase of Daniel 8,
  --
   gothic architecture, rather like the abandoned chapel of an old castle.
   A door hidden by a black drapery opened on to this room; behind the

Liber 71 - The Voice of the Silence - The Two Paths - The Seven Portals, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
   weeps inside her castle of illusion; if thy soul struggles to break the
   silver thread that binds her to the MASTER; know, O Disciple, thy Soul
  --
   Klingsor's castle.
   77. Shall he not use the gifts which it confers for his own rest and

Maps of Meaning text, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
  Figure 39: castle, Hero, Serpent and Virgin: St. George and the Dragon
  Figure 40: The Process of Exploration and Update, as the Meta-Goal of Existence

Talks With Sri Aurobindo 2, #Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
  NIRODBARAN: The American ambassador has said that Leopold is a prisoner in his own castle.
  SRI AUROBINDO: That is to gain people's sympathy.

The Act of Creation text, #The Act of Creation, #Arthur Koestler, #Psychology
  the spectator from his bed-sitter in Bays water to the castle of Elsinore
  is merely the bottom step of the ladder. But, nevertheless, it should not
  --
  who occupy a real old castle which lies in the valley. Most interesting
  are the images which arise directly out of abstract thought. For
  --
  If he feels the need to build castles in Spain, day-dreaming will replace
  the routines of planning ahead. The rules of day-dreaming impose a

The Aleph, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  "I view him," he said with a certain unaccountable excitement, "in his inner sanctum, as though in his castle tower, supplied with telephones, telegraphs, phonographs, wireless sets, motion-picture screens, slide projectors, glossaries, timetables, handbooks, bulletins..."
  He remarked that for a man so equipped, actual travel was superfluous. Our twentieth century had inverted the story of Mohammed and the mountain; nowadays, the mountain came to the modern Mohammed.

the Castle, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  object:the castle
  class:place
  --
   In the castle of the lotus twixt the brows
  Whence it shoots the arrows of its sight and will ~ Sri Aurobindo,

The Dwellings of the Philosophers, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  1-11 - THE SPELLS AND WONDERS OF THE castle OF DAMPIERRE
  1-7 - THE BODYGUARDS OF FRANCIS II - DUKE OF BRITTANY
  --
  with no other concerns but his writings, he completed in the castle of Flers a life of work,
  calm and simplicity, in the company of his two friends with whom he had accomplished the
  --
  the false prophet and the dragon entering an old castle, out of which flames emerge, and by
  which this false prophet is already half engulfed. There is writing on the thigh of the great
  --
  (9) Charterer of Flers castle.
  (10) Oeuvres Manuscriptes de Grosparmy, Valois, and Vicot. Library of Rennes, ms 160 (124) Folio 90, Second
  --
  Rochebrunes opinion. Thus was born the superb castle of Coulonges-sur-lAutize (in the
  district of Deux-Sevres), whose construction demanded 26 years, from 1542 to 1568, which
  --
  Vendee). In the castle of Terre-Neuve, where they are preserved today, we can admire and
  study them at leisure. This castle, furthermore, by the abundance, the variety, and the origin of
  the artistic works it contains, is more akin to a museum than to a private dwelling from the
  --
  The most beautiful ceiling of the castle of Coulonges, which once upon a time ornamented the
  hall and the treasure room, covers today the great salon of Terre-Neuve, called the Workshop.
  --
  monogram of Diane de Poitiers, similar to the one found in the castle of Anet. This detail led
  people to suggest that the plans of the castle of Coulognes could have belonged to the
  architect-priest Philibert de lOrme (5) . Later, while studying a similar dwelling, we will come
  --
  A mere sharecropper farm at first, the castle of Terre-Neuve, in its current form, was built in
  1595 by Jean Morison, on behalf of Count Nicolas Rapin, vice-seneschal of Fontenay-le-
  Comte and "distinguished poet", as we leam from a handwritten monograph of the castle of
  Terre-Neuve, probably by Monsieur de Rochebrunes hand. The inscription, in verse, which is
  --
  The castle of Terre-Neuve owes its rich collection to the aesthetic sense of the successors of
  the poet-seneschal and above all to the sure taste of Monsieur de Rochebrune (6) for artworks.
  --
  consoles from the castle of Chambord, an emblazoned panel of Gobelin tapestry (1670) given
  by Luis XIV; very beautiful 15th century wood sculptures, coming from the library of the
  --
  fireplace of the Grand Salon, bought in Coulonges and rebuilt in the castle of Terre-Neuve in
  March 1884. More remarkable even, by the accuracy of the hieroglyphs which decorate it, the
  --
  FONTENAY-LE-COMTE - TERRE-NEUVE castle
  The Fireplace of the Grand Salon
  --
  (6) Monsieur de Rochebrune, born at Fontenay-le-Comte in 1824 and who died at the castle of Terre-Neuve in
  1900, was the grandfa ther of the current owner. Monsieur de Fontenious
  --
  FONTENAY-LE-COMTE - TERRE-NEUVE castle
  The Fireplace of the Grand Salon - Central motif
  --
  with hieroglyphs, which we have just analyzed. The monograph quoted from the castle of
  Terre-Neuve which we think was written by the late Monsieur Rochebrune, holds a rather
  --
  dEstissac. The shield placed under that of the Lord of this beautiful castle is decorated in its
  center with the monogram of the master image carver; it is surmounted with a four, symbolic
  --
  be observed in the castle of Coucy (the tympanum of the dungeon gate) and on one of the bas-
  reliefs of the golden Carroir (14) in Romorantin (Plate XIX).
  --
  THE SPELLS AND WONDERS OF THE castle OF DAMPIERREI
  In the Santoine region to which Coulonges-sur-lAutize, the county town where once stood
  --
  interesting: the castle of Dampierre-sur-Boutonne (in the French Department of Charente-
  Inferieure). Built at the end of the 15th century under Francois de Clermont (1) , the castle of
  Dampierre is presently the property of Dr Texier from Saint-Jean-dAngely (2> . By the
  --
  sagacity of the seeker, the castle deserves to be better known and we are pleased to
  particularly commend it to the attention of the disciples of Hermes.
  --
  The 16 th Century castle
  Plate XXIII
  --
  intimacy of kings of France, did she even later on inhabit her castle of Dampierre at all? That
  was what we wondering about while going through Jules Robuchanons (7) beautiful book,
  --
  inconsistencies. A recognition of Dampierre is written to the King because of his castle of
  Niort, on the 9th of August 1547 at the crowning of Henry II. The vassals are Jacques de
  --
  the embellishments of the castle paintings and sculptures is unknown to us and will
  perhaps remain so forever.
  --
  that is the reason why I gladly granted your publisher permission to takes several pictures of the castle". We
  warmly thank M. J. Texier.
  --
  282-1], in other words, that which is impregnable. It apparently came from the old castle. This stone was later
  used to build a pillar for the shed". In R ecault de la Commission des Arts et Monuments Historiques de la
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERREII
  In a spacious room on the second story, we can notice in particular a large and rather beautiful
  --
  fragment where it was written in golden letter was lost. My father-in-law, to whom this castle
  used to belong, remembers quite well having seen it" (2) .
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE III
  The upper gallery, whose ceiling is so curiously ornamented, takes up, between the two
  --
  came to the conclusion, a rather surprising one, that most mansions or castles bearing the
  double D linked to the letter H and the triple crescent have a decoration of indisputable
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE V
  Second Series (Plate XXVII)
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE VI
  Third Series (Plate XXVIII).
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE VII
  Fourth Series (Plate XXIX)
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE VIII
  Fifth Series (Plate XXX)
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERREIX
  Sixth Series (Plate XXXI)
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE X
  Seventh Series (Plate XXXII)
  --
  under the surface, going all around this floating castle; they finally found a mean little fish
  about half a foot long, which had attached itself to the tiller, taking the time to stop the very
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE XI
  The eight and last series contains only one panel devoted to the science of Hermes. It
  --
  THE castle OF DAMPIERRE XII
  Our study of the panels of Dampierre is now complete. We only have to point out a few
  --
  compilation made of the high gallery of the castle of Dampierre an admirable collection, and a
  genuine museum of alchemical emblems, and put our Adept among the unknown masters who
  --
  answered through the voice of Epistemon (2), that the tower of fortification or fortified castle,
  amounts to saying a feat of strength or a tower of strength (3); and that a feat of strength
  --
  [A] III. When going from Schneeberg to the castle called Wissembourg, some water comes
  out of it towards the mountain; it falls into the Mulde. By walking in the Mulde, facing this
  --
  days, leads to the luminous castle or the brilliant Fortress, which is this heavy stone, the
  Occident reached, albeit not gone beyond, by our appropriate manner <14> . For the truth comes

The Gold Bug, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
  "It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, "for a few days; during which I made diligent inquiry, in the neighborhood of Sullivan's Island, for any building which went by the name of the 'Bishop's Hotel'; for, of course, I dropped the obsolete word 'hostel.' Gaining no information on the subject, I was on the point of extending my sphere of search, and proceeding in a more systematic manner, when, one morning, it entered into my head, quite suddenly, that this 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some reference to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, time out of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor-house, about four miles to the northward of the Island. I accordingly went over to the plantation, and reinstituted my inquiries among the older negroes of the place. At length one of the most aged of the women said that she had heard of such a place as Bessop's castle, and thought that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, nor a tavern, but a high rock.
  "I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some demur, she consented to accompany me to the spot. We found it without much difficulty, when, dismissing her, I proceeded to examine the place. The ' castle' consisted of an irregular assemblage of cliffs and rocks --one of the latter being quite remarkable for its height as well as for its insulated and artificial appearance. I clambered to its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what should be next done.

WORDNET



--- Overview of noun castle

The noun castle has 4 senses (first 2 from tagged texts)
                    
1. (3) palace, castle ::: (a large and stately mansion)
2. (1) castle ::: (a large building formerly occupied by a ruler and fortified against attack)
3. castle, rook ::: ((chess) the piece that can move any number of unoccupied squares in a direction parallel to the sides of the chessboard)
4. castle, castling ::: (interchanging the positions of the king and a rook)

--- Overview of verb castle

The verb castle has 1 sense (no senses from tagged texts)
                    
1. castle ::: (move the king two squares toward a rook and in the same move the rook to the square next past the king)


--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun castle

4 senses of castle                          

Sense 1
palace, castle
   => mansion, mansion house, manse, hall, residence
     => house
       => dwelling, home, domicile, abode, habitation, dwelling house
         => housing, lodging, living accommodations
           => structure, construction
             => artifact, artefact
               => whole, unit
                 => object, physical object
                   => physical entity
                     => entity
       => building, edifice
         => structure, construction
           => artifact, artefact
             => whole, unit
               => object, physical object
                 => physical entity
                   => entity

Sense 2
castle
   => fortification, munition
     => defensive structure, defense, defence
       => structure, construction
         => artifact, artefact
           => whole, unit
             => object, physical object
               => physical entity
                 => entity

Sense 3
castle, rook
   => chessman, chess piece
     => man, piece
       => game equipment
         => equipment
           => instrumentality, instrumentation
             => artifact, artefact
               => whole, unit
                 => object, physical object
                   => physical entity
                     => entity

Sense 4
castle, castling
   => chess move
     => move
       => turn, play
         => activity
           => act, deed, human action, human activity
             => event
               => psychological feature
                 => abstraction, abstract entity
                   => entity


--- Hyponyms of noun castle

2 of 4 senses of castle