Quotes from The Witch's Daughter

Paula Brackston ·  305 pages

Rating: (23.2K votes)


“Better foolish and honest than clever and false.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“To learn, you must be humble. You must be prepared to admit your ignorance. You must allow yourselves to be filled with the vital information presented to you via the skills and dedication of those who have gone before you down the long path to enlightenment.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“there is no courage in being fearless. Do you not know that? A person who knows fear and yet can still think of others, well, he be a brave man.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“Reputation is for those who can afford it.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“Nevertheless, disease and misfortune knew no social bounds. Nor did the immensely dangerous business of childbirth.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter



“For whatever time we might have, my love. For whatever time we might have.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“And secrets are dangerous. They start small but grow with every evasive answer or outright lie that protects them. Nevertheless, I confess to finding the closeness such conspiracy breeds irresistibly delicious.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“Slowly Tegan looked up and I saw wonderment on her face. It was of the variety only ever found in those young enough to yet have minds as open as the oceans and hearts longing to have proof of magic.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


“Alas my love you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously;
And I have loved you oh so longer
Delighting in your company.
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
Greensleeves was my heart of joy,
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.”
― Paula Brackston, quote from The Witch's Daughter


About the author

Paula Brackston
Born place: in The United Kingdom
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“Beth stared at the bowl, a fragile piece of the past, such a delicate object in Ian’s large, blunt fingers. “Are you certain?”
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“I do want it,” Beth said hastily. She held her hands out for it. “I’m honored.” The frown faded, to be replaced by a slight quirk of his lips.
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Ian took it gently back from her and replaced it in its slot. That made sense; in here it would stay safe and unbroken.
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“Hey - Duggie! Duggie! Duggie!" He came running up to me, sparkler in hand. I felt like sticking one on him, the cheeky bastard. Nobody called me Duggie.
He held the sparkler up in front of my face and said, "Wait. Wait."
I was already waiting. What else was there to do?
"Here you are," he said. "Look! What's this?"
At that precise moment, his sparkler fizzled out. I didn't say anything, so he supplied the answer himself. "The death of the socialist dream," he said.
He giggled like a little maniac, and stared at me for a second or two before running off, and in that time I saw exactly the same thing I'd seen in Stubbs's eyes the day before. The same triumphalism, the same excitement, not because something new was being created, but because something was being destroyed. I thought about Phillip and his stupid rock symphony and I swear that my eyes pricked with tears. This ludicrous attempt to squeeze the history of the countless millennia into half an hour's worth of crappy riffs and chord changes suddenly seemed no more Quixotic than all the things my dad and his colleagues had been working towards for so long. A national health service, free to everyone who needed it. Redistribution of wealth through taxation. Equality of opportunity. Beautiful ideas, Dad, noble aspirations, just as there was the kernel of something beautiful in Philip's musical hodge-podge. But it was never going to happen. If there had ever been a time when it might have happened, that time was slipping away. The moment had passed. Goodbye to all that.
Easy to be clever with hindsight, I know, but I was right, wasn't I? Look back on that night from the perspective of now, the closing weeks of the closing century of our second millennium - if the calendar of some esoteric and fast-disappearing religious sect counts for anything any more - and you have to admit that I was right. And so was Benjamin's brother, the little bastard, with his sparkler and his horrible grin and that nasty gleam of incipient victory in his twelve-year-old eyes. Goodbye to all that, he was saying. He'd worked it out already. He knew what the future held in store.”
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