Incorrect Little Witch Academia Quotes

Okay, so I was crying, too. Only a little bit. Even a wicked witch like me has a heart, you know? ~ Danielle Paige

The music started. I felt the blood run out of my face, leaving me cold.
"Oh, oak and ash," I said. "This isn't happening."
I wasn't the only to have that thought. Quentin pushed through the crowd to stand on my other side....
"That's the Luidaeg," he said, sounding dazed.
"Uh huh," I agreed.
"That's the Luidaeg, singing 'Poor Unfortunate Souls.' In a karaoke bar. In front of other people.
"Uh huh," I agreed again. Doing anything else seemed impossible. Well, except for maybe drinking my beer. Drinking my beer, I could do. I drank some of my beer.
The Luidaeg did not disappear. The Luidaeg remained on the stage, belting out the sea witch's song from Disney's 'The Little Mermaid.' Given that the Luidaeg IS the sea witch according to every legend I've ever heard, the overall effect was more than a little jarring.
"We're gonna need more beer," said Danny. ~ Seanan McGuire

It was a common fallacy among survivors that zombies were strong. This was incorrect. The average zombie, by itself, was weak with little muscle control. The creatures were pure instinct. Whatever intelligence they had was gone with their first death, lost forever. It was their numbers that gave them strength. A strong man or woman with a weapon and their wits could easily take out ten to fifteen zombies. But behind those ten to fifteen lay fifty or a hundred more, untiring, unrelenting in their search for flesh. A human tired, a zombie didn't. This was their greatest strength. ~ Robert Morganbesser

She tilted her head to glare up at him. "There you go with the 'little witch' thing again. What did I tell you about that?"
Knox grinned unrepentantly. "What can I say? You have bewitched me. ~ Christine Warren

That Christian faith is about belief is a rather odd notion, when you think about it. It suggests that what God really cares about is the beliefs in our heads - as if "believing the right things" is what God is most looking for, as if having "correct beliefs" is what will save us. And if you have "incorrect beliefs," you may be in trouble. It's remarkable to think that God cares so much about "beliefs."

Moreover, when you think about it, faith as belief is relatively impotent, relatively powerless. You can believe all the right things and still be in bondage. You can believe all the right things and still be miserable. You can believe all the right things and still be relatively unchanged. Believing a set of claims to be true has very little transforming power. ~ Marcus J. Borg

The word WANTED slithered across the top of each image in elegant calligraphy. The drawing of Criminy was spot-on, but the one of me was more than a little imaginative. I looked like an evil seductress, some sort of vampy witch-queen.
I liked it.
I wanted a copy for my wagon. ~ Delilah S. Dawson

So I just waltz up to your witch-god and ask to go home,' Jorden said with little regard as to whether the statement was offensive or not.
The kaedith nodded again. 'That's about the size of it,' she said, and lit up another cigar. ~ Amos T. Fairchild

What? A big boy like you couldn't handle a little distraction?"
"Little distraction? You had your hand on my cock and your tongue down my throat. I call that a pretty big distraction. ~ Zoe Forward

Katherine -I wondered if this was how Dorothy felt when she woke up in Oz with all the little people squawking ding dong, the witch is dead. ~ Lorraine Beaumont

It seems to me that the orthodox religions always know more about the Devil than I do and can describe him in more detail, and if I hadn't a nice type of mind I'd begin to wonder what company they keep when the moon rides high in the sky and good witches are doing simple little incantations and asking for spiritual guidance. ~ Sybil Leek

The lesson was not lost on Kartane. To be Ringed was the severest form of control. If Daemon couldn't stand the pain, how could he? It became very important not to give Dorothea a reason to Ring him. That night, after Daemon had been allowed to rest a little, he was ordered to serve the witch he'd earlier refused. That night was the first time Daemon went cold. ~ Anne Bishop

She sagged against the wall, finding it hard to breathe. It wasn't from fear. Gods, she hadn't been that turned on in years. If that was her punishment, she was going to be lippy a little more often ~ Lia Davis

That witch talks a big game, but she couldn't be a bigger candy-ass if she dropped her pink little undies and sat on a pile of gumdrops. ~ Danielle Paige

But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason you were brought into Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you might know me better there. ~ Reza Aslan

Let me out, witch," growled Alice. She began to hum off key.
Griselda stepped away from the door.
"I can help the little wee babes," Alice sung sweetly. "Through the woods and into the dark. Where he whispers the words to make his mark. Little boy of green..." Alice chuckled. "...has gone to the wizard who is evil and mean. ~ Kathy Cyr

Only five minutes later he noticed a dozen crocuses growing round the foot of an old tree- gold and purple and white. Then came a sound even more delicious than the sound of water. Close beside the path they were following, a bird suddenly chirped from the branch of a tree. It was answered by the chuckle of another bird a little further off. And then, as if that had been a signal, there was chattering and chirruping in every direction, and then a moment of full song, and within five minutes the whole wood was ringing with birds' music, and wherever Edmund's eyes turned he saw birds alighting on branches, or sailing overhead or chasing one another or having their little quarrels or tidying up their feathers with their beaks.
"Faster! Faster!" said the Witch.
There was no trace of the fog now. The sky became bluer and bluer, and now there were white clouds hurrying across it from time to time. In the wide glades there were primroses. A light breeze sprang up which scattered drops of moisture from the swaying branches and carried cool, delicious scents against the faces of the travelers. The trees began to come fully alive. The larches and birches were covered with green, the laburnums with gold. Soon the beech trees had put forth their delicate, transparent leaves. As the travelers walked under them the light also became green. A bee buzzed crossed their path. ~ C.S. Lewis

Yet genius of a sort must have existed among women as it must have existed among the working classes. Now and again an Emily Bronte or a Robert Burns blazes out and proves its presence. But certainly it never got itself on paper. When, however, one reads of a witch being ducked, of a woman possessed by devils, of a wise woman selling herbs, or even of a very remarkable man who had a mother, then I think we are on the track of a lost novelist, a suppressed poet, of some mute and inglorious Jane Austen, some Emily Bronte who dashed her brains out on the moor or mopped and mowed about the highways crazed with the torture that her gift had put her to.

[…]any woman born with a great gift in the sixteenth century would certainly have gone crazed, shot herself, or ended her days in some lonely cottage outside the village, half witch, half wizard, feared and mocked at. For it needs little skill in psychology to be sure that a highly gifted girl who had tried to use her gift for poetry would have been so thwarted and hindered by other people, so tortured and pulled asunder by her own contrary instincts, that she must have lost her health and sanity to a certainty. ~ Virginia Woolf

The little witch had no faith in him. Of course he wouldn't let evil have her. He'd bite evil in the ass, shake his slimy soul until his teeth fell out, then gorge on the soft tissue of his belly and make him watch being eaten alive. ~ Gem Sivad

It's kind of like you, Bonnie. You cut off your long hair too. Just like Rapunzel."
"That's right, Katy. That's because a mean old witch locked me up at Tower Records, and I had to wait for my boyfriend to get out of jail and come rescue me."
"What the fu - heck are you talking about?" Finn asked, amending his curse at the last minute for the sake of the little girl who was hanging on every word.
A little snort escaped out of my nose at the incredulous look on his face, and Katy giggled.
"Bonnie Rae," Finn choked out, finally laughing, "can we please change the subject? ~ Amy Harmon

Whatever. I just won't have Elena hurt, is all. Or the little red-headed witch."
"Ah, yes, sweet Bonnie. I wouldn't mind one or two like her. One for Samhain and one for the Solstice."
Damon snorted drowsily. "There aren't two like her; I don't care where you look. I won't have her hurt either. ~ L.J.Smith

Selene," Cheney cupped my face, "if this is the beginning of a confession, let me assure you I am not naive. You're a beautiful woman, and I have little doubt you have had a lot of boyfriends during our time apart. Please feel free to NEVER tell me about any of them. And if you never utter the name Michael again, it would be much appreciated." His eyes flashed at his name. ~ Liz Schulte

In the pressure cooker of a TV show, it's a little bit of a witches' brew. I completely think I'm capable of being crazy. I probably was crazy when I was doing 'The Simpsons'. ~ Sam Simon

It means that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still that she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and darkness before Time began, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and death itself would work backwards. ~ C.S. Lewis

It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward. And now - ~ C.S. Lewis

The witch approached it and pared its edges with a sword that she drew from her thigh. Then she sat down beside it on the earth and sang to it while it cooled. Not like the runes that enraged the flames was the song she sang to the sword: she whose curses had blasted the fire till it shrivelled big logs of oak crooned now a melody like a wind in summer blowing from wild wood gardens that no man tended, down valleys loved once by children, now lost to them but for dreams, a song of such memories as lurk and hide along the edges of oblivion, now flashing from beautiful years of glimpse of some golden moment, now passing swiftly out of remembrance again, to go back to the shades of oblivion, and leaving on the mind those faintest traces of little shining feet which when dimly perceived by us are called regrets. She sang of old Summer noons in the time of harebells: she sang on that high dark heath a song that seemed so full of mornings and evenings preserved with all their dews by her magical craft from days that had else been lost, that Alveric wondered of each small wandering wing, that her fire had lured from the dusk, if this were the ghost of some day lost to man, called up by the force of her song from times that were fairer. ~ Lord Dunsany

She looked down at him, smiling with exasperated amusement. *Stubborn, snarly male.*

*Stubbornness is a much-maligned quality,* he panted as he climbed toward her. Her silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the land. Then he finally got a good look at her. He sank to his knees. *I owe you a debt, Lady.*

She shook her head. *The debt is mine, not yours.*

*I failed you,* he said bitterly, looking at her wasted body.

*No, Daemon,* Jaenelle replied softly. *I failed you. You asked me to heal the crystal chalice and return to the living world. And I did. But I don't think I ever forgave my body for being the instrument that was used to try to destroy me, and I became its cruelest torturer. For that I'm sorry because you treasured that part of me.*

*No, I treasured all of you. I love you, Witch. I always will. You're everything I'd dreamed you would be.*

She smiled at him. *And I - * She shuddered, pressed her hand against her chest. *Come. There's little time left.* She fled through the rocks, out of sight before he could move. He hurried after her, following the glittering trail, gasping as he felt a crushing weight descend on him. *Daemon.* Her voice came back to him, faint and pain-filled. *If the body is going to survive, I can't stay any longer.* He fought against the weight.

*Jaenelle!*

*You have to take this in slow stages. Rest there now. Rest, Daemon. I'll mark the trail for you. ~ Anne Bishop

The most effective cross-examination of Linda Kasabian was surprisingly that of Ronald Hughes. Though this was his first trial, and he frequently made procedural mistakes, Hughes was familiar with the hippie subculture, having been a part of it. He knew about drugs, mysticism, karma, auras, vibrations, and when he questioned Linda about these things, he made her look just a little odd, just a wee bit zingy. He had her admitting that she believed in ESP, that there were times at Spahn when she actually felt she was a witch.
Q. "Do you feel that you are controlled by Mr. Manson's vibrations?"
A. "Possibly."
Q. "Did he put off a lot of vibes?"
A. "Sure, he's doing it right now."
Hughes "May the record reflect, Your Honor, that Mr. Manson is merely sitting here."
Kanarek "He doesn't seem to be vibrating. ~ Vincent Bugliosi

What a world, what a world. Who would have thought that. some little girl like you could. destroy my beautiful wickedness.
- Wicket Witch of the West ~ Noel Langley

My stubborn little witch," he said softly. "Don't believe for a clockwork minute that you are unlovable. If I were a mortal, a man not doomed to walk the earth as a haunted specter, I would be the first suitor in line. Please believe that."
She hiccupped. "You… you'd want to court me?"
Jack laughed. "Court you? I'd follow you around like Finney and stare at you all moony-eyed. I'd spend my days fending off your other would-be suitors, my evenings charming Flossie, and my nights stealing kisses at your window. ~ Colleen Houck

If the devil decided to run for President, do you think he/she would put on their horns and wicked grin, or a suit with an angelic smile? If the wicked witch stayed green and ugly, would she have been able to give Snow White a poisoned apple? And if the Big Bad Wolf had not disguised himself as an old granny, would he have been able to lure Little Red Riding Hood into the house to eat her? And if a drug dealer wanted to seduce some school kids to get on his drugs, would he act like a greedy businessman - or a caring friend? Salt and sugar look exactly the same but taste very different. We live in a world of illusions, one filled with Luciferians acting like righteous men, and righteous men condemned as criminals. ~ Suzy Kassem

Are you sure you're not a witch?" he teased lightly, his teeth nipping at the sensitive lobe of my ear.
My stomach twittered excitedly and I leaned into him.
"If I'm a witch, you're a devil," I returned breathlessly, hoping against hope that he wouldn't stop, that we could just continue on in our little bubble of oblivion.
Jackson chuckled, a sound that sent chills racing down my back.
"Now that's entirely possible," Jackson admitted, leaning back to grin down into my face. When his eyes settled on mine, his smile died and I fell headlong into the intensity of his sky blue gaze. "I love you. ~ M. Leighton

I chew the inside of my lip, considering for a second what it would be like to slap this skinny little witch right across her tight-lipped little face. ~Kelly about Suni ~ Bill Blais

Once upon a time," I began. "There was a little boy born in a little town. He was perfect, or so his mother thought. But one thing was different about him. He had a gold screw in his belly button. Just the head of it peeping out.
"Now his mother was simply glad he had all his fingers and toes to count with. But as the boy grew up he realized not everyone had screws in their belly buttons, let alone gold ones. He asked his mother what it was for, but she didn't know. Next he asked his father, but his father didn't know. He asked his grandparents, but they didn't know either.
"That settled it for a while, but it kept nagging him. Finally, when he was old enough, he packed a bag and set out, hoping he could find someone who knew the truth of it.
"He went from place to place, asking everyone who claimed to know something about anything. He asked midwives and physickers, but they couldn't make heads or tails of it. The boy asked arcanists, tinkers, and old hermits living in the woods, but no one had ever seen anything like it.
"He went to ask the Cealdim merchants, thinking if anyone would know about gold, it would be them. But the Cealdim merchants didn't know. He went to the arcanists at the University, thinking if anyone would know about screws and their workings, they would. But the arcanists didn't know. The boy followed the road over the Stormwal to ask the witch women of the Tahl, but none of them could give him an answer.
"Eventually he went to the ~ Patrick Rothfuss

witch. A being born a little different, he preferred to phrase it. He remembered reading something about the Rhine experiments, at Duke University. Some people, those sober scientists had proved, perceived the world with something beyond the ordinary physical senses. Some people, they had demonstrated, displayed a direct control over probability, without the use of any physical agency. ~ Jack Williamson

Perhaps, thought Nanny, little green Elphaba chose her own sex, and her own color, and to hell with her parents. ~ Gregory Maguire

When I was a little kid, I wrote this play about all these characters living in a haunted house. There was a witch who lived there, and a mummy. When they were all hassling him, this guy who bought the house - I can't believe I remember this - he said to them, 'Who's paying the mortgage on this haunted house?' I thought that was really funny. ~ Mindy Kaling

And an unaware witch means a witch who doesn't know she's a witch, and because she's a women that makes her double trouble. Never trust a women."
My mothers a women," I said, suddenly feeling a little angry, "and I trust her."
Mothers are usually women," said the Spook. "And mothers are usually quite trustworthy, as long as your their son. Otherwise look out! ~ Joseph Delaney

Dark thought started to slip into my mind, despite all my efforts to keep them out. What was the use of anything? We were born, we lived a few years, grew old, and then died. What was the point of it all? All those people in the County and the wide world beyond, living their short little lives before going to the grave. What was it all for? My dad was dead. He'd worked hard all his life, but the journey of his life had had only one destination: the grave. That's where we were all heading. into the grave. Into the soil, to be eaten by worms. Poor Billy Bradley had been the Spook's apprentice before me. He'd had his fingers bitten off by a boggat and had died of shock and loss of blood. And where was he now? In a grave. Not even in a churchyard. He was buried outside because the Church considered him no better than a malevolent witch. That would be my fate too. A grave in unhallowed ground. ~ Joseph Delaney

Tsz-lu said to the Master, "As the prince of Wei, sir, has been waiting for you to act for him in his government, what is it your intention to take in hand first?"

"One thing of necessity," he answered "the rectification of terms."

"That!" exclaimed Tsz-lu. "How far away you are, sir! Why such rectification?"

"What a rustic you are, Tsz-lu!" rejoined the Master. "A gentleman would be a little reserved and reticent in matters which he does not understand. If terms be incorrect, language will be incongruous; and if language be incongruous, deeds will be imperfect. So, again, when deeds are imperfect, propriety and harmony cannot prevail, and when this is the case laws relating to crime will fail in their aim; and if these last so fail, the people will not know where to set hand or foot. Hence, a man of superior mind, certain first of his terms, is fitted to speak; and being certain of what he says can proceed upon it. In the language of such a person there is nothing heedlessly irregular and that is the sum of the matter. ~ Confucius

One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece. ~ Shel Silverstein

Now that is the real thing, the straight goods from the mass unconscious, friend; that little girl is a witch. There's just no place for her to function in this society. She'd have seen the devil, if she hadn't been brought up on The Bionic Man and all those Star Trek reruns. ~ William Gibson