#castle

Hi, my name is Kurt Cobain, I'm homosexual, I'm a pagan, I'm a drug abuser, and I like to fuck pot-bellied pigs! ↗

— Kurt Cobain

#abuse

If you look at Newcastle or Gateshead, even over twenty years, even with the previous administration, it has moved quite remarkably in transforming itself. ↗

— John Prescott

#even #itself #look #moved #newcastle

You go down some street - no doubt it's there, and we have to do something about it, and our programmes are designed to do that - but if that's a picture of Newcastle, it's not the one I recognise and I bet none in the North East do either. ↗

— John Prescott

#bet #designed #doubt #down #east

You make kingdoms and castles on your own. ↗

— Stephan Jenkins

#kingdoms #make #own #you #your

It was all right to be sad. It was all right to lament. It was all right to feel anger. But [is] not all right to run away. ↗

— Miyuki Miyabe

#anger

Here's to real heroes, not the ones who carry us off into the sunset but the ones who help us choose our princes." - commentary on Castles on the Sand ↗

— Emily Mah Tippetts

#brothers #castles-on-the-sand #fairytale #family #hero

Often, half in a bay of the mountains and half on a headland, a small and nearly amphibian Schloss mouldered in the failing light among the geese and the elder-bushes and the apple trees. Dank walls rose between towers that were topped with cones of moulting shingle. Weeds throve in every cranny. Moss mottled the walls. Fissures branched like forked lightning across damp masonry which the rusting iron clamps tried to hold together, and buttresses of brick shored up the perilously leaning walls. The mountains, delaying sunrise and hastening dusk, must have halved again the short winter days. Those buildings looked too forlorn for habitation. But, in tiny, creeper-smothered windows, a faint light would show at dusk. Who lived in those stone-flagged rooms where the sun never came? Immured in those six-foot-thick walls, overgrown outside with the conquering ivy and within by genealogical trees all moulting with mildew? My thoughts flew at once to solitary figures…a windowed descendant of a lady-in-waiting at the court of Charlemagne, alone with the Sacred Heart and her beads, or a family of wax-pale barons, recklessly inbred; bachelors with walrus moustaches, bent double with rheumatism, shuddering from room to room and coughing among their lurchers, while their cleft palates called to each other down corridors that were all but pitch dark. ↗

— Patrick Leigh Fermor

#family

Another strike of lightening – now accompanied by the deep-bellied rumble, and the horse reared, incidentally setting Henry very picturesquely against the inconstant moon. Alas, Catherine was deeply engaged in her argument with Old Edric and this missed entirely the melodramatic display. But we may assume that, possessing so strong an imagination, Catherine had often pictured Henry thus... ↗

— Emily C.A. Snyder

#jane-austen #nachtsturm-castle #northanger-abbey #imagination

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

#halt #horace #ranger-s-apprentice #men

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

#jane-austen #nachtsturm-castle #northanger-abbey #nature