In fact, whenever I go and watch a film I don't like to read about them beforehand - I like to go in fresh and get inside the story without knowing what's going to happen.
Did I kill him?” I said. “No, miss,” said Robert. “Pity.
It’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.
You could at least complain,” I say. “I adore complaining. It calms the nerves.
A girl can have the face of an angel but have a horrid sort of heart.
I explained we lost the porch to the flood. Father hasn't gotten around to rebuilding it, although he's quite a good carpenter. He says if Jesus was a carpenter, its good enough for a clergyman. But I don't remember that Jesus let his house fall down.
That’s where proper stories begin, don’t they, when the handsome stranger arrives and everything goes wrong?
All that you think is rain is not. Behind the veil angels sometimes weep.
Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things: air, sleep, dreams, sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.
In a world where carpenters get resurrected, everything is possible.
The point is, when you have a chance to have a big adventure, especially if, like in your case, it doesn't hurt anyone, it's just plain foolish not to take it.