Rosemary Woodhouse: Witches... All of them witches!
The first time I called myself a 'Witch' was the most magical moment of my life.
Always winter but never Christmas.
Slicker than snot on a door handle.
This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!
Believe, my child. Faith is the food of survival.
There is nothing more powerful than a witch who knows how to contain her power. Standing comfortably within its mystery and allure.
Wicked Witch of the West: Who killed my sister? Who killed the Witch of the East? Was it you? Dorothy: No, no. It was an accident. I didn't mean to kill anybody. Wicked Witch of the West: Well, my little pretty, I can cause accidents, too!
A smart witch can also dance without a broomstick.
Witch doctors do not sell their potions to each other.
Intelligence is power; it is the flame behind the spark of intrigue
Better foolish and honest than clever and false.
In a fight between a shifter and a witch, the shifter would often win—but only if they could keep the witch from speaking, usually by severing the throat or tearing out the tongue. If the witch was powerful enough, and quick enough, physical size d...
Okay," I said. "Now can I try riding a broomstick?" "No. Most witches don't use broomsticks because they aren't that comfortable. The only reason witches use broomsticks is because they are lightweight and easy to get off the ground." "Okay, so what ...
The witch's hair was too short and too dark for blond. She wasn't sure if that relieved her or disturbed her. Riley had immediately begun his interrogation, and it had gone something like this: Riley: Where is the meeting between your kind and Aden S...
Mr. Crossley suddenly wondered why he was why he was worrying about the note. It was only a joke, after all. He cleared his throat. Everyone looked up hopefully. 'Somebody,' said Mr. Crossley, 'seems to have sent me a Halloween message.' And he read ...
Finally she spoke with a forced scepticism, “So… if those girls are witches, and I was the sacrifice - what does that make you?” “A witch-hunter.” She raised a brow, “A witch-hunter named ‘Hunter’? How very original.” Hunter sighed,...
As the first hard drops of rain fell, the Witch caught sight, not of the girl's face, but of the shoes. Her sister's shoes. They sparkled even in the darkening afternoon. They sparkled like yellow diamonds, and embers of blood, and thorny stars.
One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her - is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is at the very least a question of definitions.
One never knows how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her — is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is the very least question of definitions.
You bet your Grannie's Panties I will.
