Sleepy Hollow Quotes

She understood that for her to excel at Oxford she had to improve her English. Her brain was in need of words to express itself fully, the way a sapling was in need of raindrops to grow to its potential. She purchased stacks of coloured Post-it notes. On them she wrote the words she chanced upon, fell in love with and intended to use at the earliest opportunity -- just as every foreigner did, one way or another:
- Autotomy: The casting off of a body part by an animal in danger
- Cleft Stick (from Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings): To be in a difficult situation
- Rantipole (from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow): Wild, reckless, sometimes quarrelsome person.
In her first Political Philosophy essay, she wrote 'In Turkey, where daily politics is rantipole, each time the system is in a cleft stick, democracy is the first thing to be severed and sacrificed in an act of autotomy. ~ Elif Shafak

Creepy Hollow?" He snorts. "Like Sleepy Hollow?"
"No, like Creepy Hollow. It has nothing to do with sleeping. ~ Rachel Morgan

Balt Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he loved his daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an excellent father, let her have her way in everything. ~ Washington Irving

Scary movies are my favorite. My kids love Hocus Pocus. I'm a big fan of Sleepy Hollow with Johnny Depp and Freddy Krueger. ~ Andre Dirrell

Ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. ~ Washington Irving

I've lived on borrowed time. More than any man deserves. I've seen wonders beyond my wildest imaginings. Through these centuries, against the impossibility that we'd find each other, we did. And I am most grateful for it. ~ Sleepy Hollow Press

I do take comfort in knowing this strange road
we find ourselves on can only be t r a v e l e d together. ~ Sleepy Hollow TV

He leaned closer. "That's what I'm trying to do. Your face is absolutely adorable when you blush."

My ears burned. Oh great, am I the color of a tomato now?

"Yeah, well, I can make you blush," I retorted. "By telling you how hot you are, and that when that little piece of black hair falls into your eyes, it's so sexy it makes me forget my words, and..." I stopped, suddenly aware of how warm the mausoleum was.

"Go on," Caspian prodded, shaking his head so that his hair covered one green eye. I blushed again, and glanced around me, slowly backing away from him. I just needed some... space to clear my head. He followed me, stalking my every move. My blood felt like pure oxygen racing through my veins, fizzy and bubbling and making me want to float away. A hard wall at my back stopped me, but Caspian kept coming. I thought desperately of some way to change the subject.

"I got you Moby-Dick," I blurted out. He gave me a sly smile.
"Mmmm, did you? How... interesting."
"And Treasure Island, and The Count of Monte Cristo." I babbled on. "I thought you might like some boy books." He stopped an inch away from me. I felt like I was his prisoner.

"Let's go back to the sexy and hot thing," Caspian said. "Could we add a gorgeous or mysterious in there, too?"
I gulped. "Like you don't already know you're all of those things. You probably had girls falling all over you before."

Caspian cocked his head to on ~ Jessica Verday

By actually taking Sleepy Hollow and the Rip Van Winkle story, and finding the spirit of what was great about both of them and putting them together. So it felt, actually, like one of those ideas that clicked for us, right away, on instinct. ~ Alex Kurtzman

The really good thing about 'Sleepy Hollow' is you have no idea who's going to die when ... But then equally, we showed in the pilot several people can come back to life, so you have no idea who's going to come back. Death means very little in our Sleepy Hollow, so expect more surprise deaths and more surprise resurrections. ~ Tom Mison

Sleepy Hollow had a lot of action in it, even though it was a fairy-tale movie. ~ Colleen Atwood

If there is such a thing as no guts no glory, then "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" is a true story. ~ Claire Amber

favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard. ~ Washington Irving

On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless!--but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle! ~ Washington Irving

Feminism to Baby Boomers is like the Headless Horseman to Sleepy Hollow: everyone's got a story about how it destroyed a friend of a friend, but none of them have ever actually seen it. ~ Emily Axford

It was necessary, we felt, to thoroughly terrify our opponents, so that even in hollow victory, they would learn to fear every sunrise ... ~ Hunter S. Thompson

When the lad for longing sighs,
Mute and dull of cheer and pale,
If at death's own door he lies,
Maiden, you can heal his ail.
Lovers' ills are all to buy:
The wan look, the hollow tone,
The hung head, the sunken eye,
You can have them for your own.
Buy them, buy them: eve and morn
Lovers' ills are all to sell.
Then you can lie down forlorn;
But the lover will be well. ~ A.E. Housman

My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her; out of a sullen hollow in a livid hillside her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was – liberty. ~ Charlotte Bronte

Are you serious? Vi's arm has been magically barbequed and you think she
needs a cupcake? ~ Rachel Morgan

He straightened quickly and looked round at her. "Oh, Claire!" He patted the breast pocket of his shirt, making a hollow drumming ~ Robin Pilcher

It was a sight full of quick wonder and awe! The vast swells of the omnipotent sea; the surging, hollow roar they made, as they rolled along the eight gunwales, like gigantic bowls in a boundless bowling-green; the brief suspended agony of the boat, as it would tip for an instant on the knife-like edge of the sharper waves, that almost seemed threatening to cut it in two; the sudden profound dip into the watery glens and hollows; the keen spurrings and goadings to gain the top of the opposite hill; the headlong, sled-like slide down its other side;--all these, with the cries of the headsmen and harpooners, and the shuddering gasps of the oarsmen, with the wondrous sight of the ivory Pequod bearing down upon her boats with outstretched sails, like a wild hen after her screaming brood; all this was thrilling. ~ Ishmael

We entered the cool cave of the practice space with all the long-haired, goateed boys stoned on clouds of pot and playing with power tools. I tossed my fluffy coat into the hollow of my bass drum and lay on the carpet with my worn newspaper. A shirtless boy came in and told us he had to cut the power for a minute, and I thought about being along in the cool black room with Joey. Let's go smoke, she said, and I grabbed the cigarettes off the amp. She started talking to me about Wonder Woman. I feel like something big is happening, but I don't know what to do about it. With The Straight Girl? I asked in the blankest voice possible. With everything. Back in the sun we walked to the edge of the parking lot where a black Impala convertible sat, rusted and rotting, looking like it just got dredged from a swamp. Rainwater pooling on the floor. We climbed up onto it and sat our butts backward on the edge of the windshield, feet stretched into the front seat. Before she even joined the band, I would think of her each time I passed the car, the little round medallions with the red and black racing flags affixed to the dash. On the rusting Chevy, Joey told me about her date the other night with a girl she used to like who she maybe liked again. How her heart was shut off and it felt pretty good. How she just wanted to play around with this girl and that girl and this girl and I smoked my cigarette and went Uh-Huh. The sun made me feel like a restless country girl even though I'd never b ~ Michelle Tea

Though the sleepy, myopic, and rather bald-pated figure reflected in the mirror was precisely of such insignificant quality as to arrest decidedly no one's exclusive attention at first sight, its owner evidently remained perfectly pleased with all he saw in the mirror. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You are loveliness personified; you are grace and fascination. I think of you and I stop breathing. I worry that any movement will steal the image of you from my mind's eye. But the memory is a pale, hollow specter to luminous reality. ~ Penny Reid

And then she caught the song. She fell upon it and music poured from the fiddle's hollow, bright and liquid like fire out of the heart of the earth. Pierre-Jean drew back and stood mesmerized. The room around Fin stirred as every ear bent to the ring of heartsong. It rushed through Fin and spread to the outermost and tiniest capillary reaches of her body. Her flesh sang. The hairs of her arms and neck roused and stood. She sped the bow across the strings. Her fingers danced on the fingerboard quick as fat raindrops. Every man in the room that night would later swear that there was a wind within it. They would tell their children and lovers that a hurricane had filled the room, toppled chairs, driven papers and sheets before it and blew not merely around them but through them, taking fears, grudges, malice, and contempt with it, sending them spiraling out into the night where they vanished among the stars like embers rising from a bonfire.

And though the spirited cry of the fiddle's song blew through others and around the room and everything in it, Fin sat at the heart of it. It poured into her. It found room in the closets and hollow places of her soul to settle and root. It planted seeds: courage, resolve, steadfastness. Fin gulped it in, seized it, held it fast. She needed it, had thirsted for it all her days. She saw the road ahead of her, and though she didn't understand it or comprehend her part in it, she knew that she needed the ancient and reckless power o ~ A.S. Peterson

Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Go on," Kell told him without taking his eyes from Lila. " Get some rest."

Hastra shifted. "I can't, sir," he said. "I'm to escort Miss Bard--"

"I'll take that charge," cut in Kell. Hastra bit his lip and retreated several steps.

Lila let her forehead come to rest against his, her face so close the features blurred. And yet, that fractured eye shone with frightening clarity.

"You never told me," he whispered.

"You never noticed," she answered. And then, "Alucard did."

The blow landed, and Kell started to pull away when Lila's eyelids fluttered and she swayed dangerously.

He braced her. "Come on," he said gently. "I have a room upstairs. Why don't we--"

A sleepy flicker of amusement. "Trying to get me into bed?"

Kell mustered a smile. "It's only fair. I've spent enough time in yours."

"If I remember correctly," she said, her voice dreamy with fatigue, "you were on top of the bed the entire time."

"And tied to it," observed Kell.

Her words were soft at the edges. "Those were the days..." she said, right before she fell forward. It happened so fast Kell could do nothing but throw his arms around her.

"Lila?" he asked, first gently, and then more urgently. "Lila?"

She murmured against his front, something about sharp knives and soft corners, but didn't rouse, and Kell shot a glance at Hastra, who was still standing there, looki ~ V.E. Schwab

Real comfort is found when I understand that I am held in the hollow of the hand of the One who created and rules all things. The most valuable thing in my life is God's love, a love that no one can take away. When my identity is rooted in him, the storms of trouble will not blow me away.

This is the comfort we offer people. We don't comfort them by saying things will work out. They may not. The people around them may change, but they may not. The Bible tells us again and again that everything around us is in the process of being taken away. God and his love are all that remain as cultures and kingdoms rise and fall. Comfort is found by sinking our roots into the unseen reality of God's ever-faithful love. ~ Paul David Tripp

Vultures pick the meat clean off a bone. Guilt eats at the marrow, leaving a man hollow. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

When sleepy, meditate with your eyes open wide. Stand in place for a few minutes or do walking meditation. If it's really bad, walk briskly or walk backward, splash some water on your face. Sleepiness is something we can respond to creatively. When ~ Jack Kornfield

Once it was believed that to bring these creatures to manhood it was enough to feed them, clothe them, and look to their everyday needs; but we see now that the result of this has been to turn out petty shopkeepers, village politicians, hollow technicians devoid of an inner life. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Here's what I learned: First thing in the morning, before I have drowned myself in coffee, while I still have that sleepy brain I used to believe was useless - that is the best brain for creative writing. Words come pouring out easily while my head still feels as if it is full of ground fog, wrapped in flannel and gauze, and surrounded by a hive of humming, velvety sleep bees. ~ Merrill Markoe

Emptiness is the track on which the centered person moves," said a Tibetan sage six hundred years ago, and the book where I found this edict followed it with an explanation of the word "track" in Tibetan: shul, "a mark that remains after that which made it has passed by - a footprint for example. In other contexts, shul is used to describe the scarred hollow in the ground where a house once stood, the channel worn through rock where a river runs in flood, the indentation in the grass where an animal slept last night. ~ Rebecca Solnit

Suddenly, he's aware of something pushing onto his lap. The stupid monkey.
"Give him a cuddle," Valentine says. He's slid his thumb to the corner of his mouth so he can talk, but it still sounds slurry from the way he's holding it, so it won't fall out. "He'll stop you being all grumpy and stressed. He smells nice."
"It smells like its rotting," Lindsay says. He picks the thing up and sits it on the steering wheel so he can get a better look at it, trying not to touch its saliva-drenched foot.
"No he don't. He smells like being sleepy, and hiding under your covers when everybody's pissed off and shouting. He smells like what it feels like being all warm and safe under your covers."
Lindsay brings the thing to his face to give it an experimental sort of sniff. "Wrong. It smells like your spit." And his shampoo, and sort of musty, and something indefinable but unmistakable that makes him think of the way Valentine looks first think in the morning, when his hair's sticking up every which way and he's frowning slightly on opening his eyes like he can't remember where he is. He reaches over to tuck the monkey back between the kid's knees. ~ Richard Rider

The king lifted a hand to her cheek and kissed her. It was not a kiss between strangers, not even a kiss between a bride and groom. It was a kiss between a man and his wife, and when it was over, the king closed his eyes and rested his forehead in the hollow of the queen's shoulder, like a man seeking respite, like a man reaching home at the end of the day. ~ Megan Whalen Turner

When the Deep Purple falls,
Over sleepy garden walls,
And the stars begin to flicker in the sky,
Thru the mist of a memory
You wander back to me,
Breathing my name with a sigh.
In the still of the night,
Once again I hold you tight,
Tho' you're gone, your love lives on
When moonlight beams.
And as long as my heart will beat
Lover, we'll always meet
Here in my Deep Purple dreams. ~ Rebecca Wells

So this was betrayal. It was like being left alone in the desert at dusk without water or warmth. It left your mouth dry and will broken. It sapped your tears and made you hollow. ~ Anna Godbersen

Mexico is a lawless place. I don't care what the UN says, or what the State Department travel advisories tell you. The fact is that Mexico, as a whole, is a narco-state run by powerful regional cartels, with a hollow and largely irrelevant central government that is nothing more than window-dressing to appease the international community. Freedom is for those who can afford it, law is for sale, and what is fair is determined by who is most powerful. That's the reality of Mexico. Cancun, Playa, Cabo, Puerto Vallarta- they are all much better than the interior of Mexico, but that is only because their survival depends on a steady flow of tourists with money to burn. To protect that, the government does a good job maintaining the appearance of western-style law and order through the direct threat of massive military intervention. Underneath it all, those places are not much different from the rest of Mexico. ~ Tucker Max

You see some people are born with a piece of night inside, and that hollow place can never be filled - not with all the good food or sunshine in the world. ~ Leigh Bardugo

It's my broken sore mending the unbreakable
A deep shaken hollow from the unshakeable ~ Munia Khan

He loved her manner of sleepy acquiescence when they lay on the beach at dusk. He drew solace and sedation from her nearness. He had a craving to touch her always, to remain always in physical communication. He liked to encircle her ankle loosely with his fingers...to lightly and lovingly caress the downy skin of her fair, smooth thigh with the backs of his nails or dreamily, sensuously, almost unconsciously, slide his proprietary, respectful hand up the shell-like ridge of her spine...

...she was puzzled by the convulsive ecstasy men could take from [her body], by the intense and amazing need they had merely to touch it, to reach out urgently and press it, squeeze it, rub it...

...It thrilled Nurse Duckett rapturously that Yossarian could not keep his hand off her when they were together.

She loved to look at his wide, long, sinewy back with its bronzed, unblemished skin. She loved to bring him to flame instantly by taking his whole ear in her mouth suddenly and running her hand down his front all the way. She loved to make him burn and suffer till dark, then satisfy him. Then kiss him adoringly because she had brought him such bliss. ~ Joseph Heller

The overflow of my brain would probably, in a state of freedom, have evaporated in a thousand follies; it needs trouble and difficulty and danger to hollow out various mysterious and hidden mines of human intelligence. Pressure is required, you know, to ignite powder: captivity has collected into one single focus all the floating faculties of my mind; they have come into close contact in the narrow space in which they have been wedged. You know that from the collision of clouds electricity is produced and from electricity comes the lightning from whose flash we have light amid our greatest darkness. ~ Alexandre Dumas

Krisztina played the song. It was a lament made of eight notes, repeated. It was an empty melody. It sounded elemental too; it made Krisztina think of the snow falling beyond the window and across Budapest. She wondered if it was snowing in England. Alice's mother would be here again later, all the way from London. There was so much grief. They were mourning her little girl before she had gone. Without realising she heard these words making themselves part of the song. She played what she could, her head down, her face solemn and determined. She went back to the start, and felt the world falling away, the tears drying on her face. She heard the words coming, falling like the luminous snow. After a few minutes she looked across what seemed like a huge divide to Alice on the bed and faltered. In the house of the body, the lights were being extinguished, one by one. The floors were now bare, the walls unadorned, all sound hollow and lost; all that remained was the ghost of what was, the glimmer of the melody, the tune, the song of a life lived and lost in three minutes. ~ Simon Avery

Psalm 63 offers insight into the satisfied soul. Look at David's descriptions of satisfaction: "My soul thirsts for you, / my body longs for you, / in a dry and weary land" (v. 1). "Because your love is better than life, / my lips will glorify you" (v. 3). "My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods" (v. 5). The most obvious symptom of a soul in need of God's satisfaction is a sense of inner emptiness. The awareness of a "hollow place" somewhere deep inside - the inability to be satisfied. ~ Beth Moore

He knew too well the sting of loneliness and how over time it stole you away, piece by piece, until a mere shell remained. ~ Katherine McIntyre

She was thinner than she had been. The thing ate only sparingly. Enough to keep Kasia alive, not enough to keep me from watching her wear away, her body growing gaunt and her face hollow-cheeked. ~ Naomi Novik

He knows what he'll find if he digs deeper. there's no rush to unpack my insides. he understands there is nothing special about emptiness, nothing interesting about depression. ~ Jasmine Warga

Is that what you were doing in my room?" he asks after a moment.
I sigh. Why am I telling him any of this? "Yes. I was on assignment."
"I was your assignment?"
"Yes."
He hesitates a moment, then grins. "That's kind of hot. ~ Rachel Morgan

Only after loving you
I realised I had an empty space;
this little void, a tad bit of hollow
inside a corner of my heart
and it screamed: Fill me up! ~ Neena H. Brar

Why, a moral truth is a hollow tooth Which must be propped with gold. ~ Edgar Lee Masters

How hard it is to kill hope! Time after time, one thinks one has trodden it down, stamped it to death. Time after time, like a noxious insect, it begins to stir again, it shivers back again into a faint tremulous life. Once more it worms its way into one's heart, to instil its poison, to gnaw away the solid hard foundations of life and leave in their place the hollow phantom of illusion. ~ Dorothy Bussy

I wished I had told her what I was doing. I wished I had said more, argued more. Maybe then I wouldn't have this hollow ache in my chest whenever I thought of our parting words. Had she already moved on, forgotten me? In her position, what she said made sense, but the thought of her with someone else made me wish I had something to fight, to kill, just so I could forget. ~ Julie Kagawa