A Secret History of Witches Quotes

“Because men believe it’s their right to tell women how to live. They tell us who to marry, what to wear, when to go out and when to stay. Some men beat their wives, and no one speaks a word about it. But despite all the power they hold over us, they feel powerless against our kind. We resist. We cause things to happen. We interfere with their plans, with what they think is the natural order. That frightens them. Men hate being afraid, so they hate us instead.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“Why is it your business where I go, but not mine where you go?"
"I'm your mother," Irene said coldly.
"Du temps en temps," Morwen snapped. From time to time.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“The fox barked at her, one sharp, short sound.
Without expecting to, Irène laughed. "What?" she said aloud.
The fox's mouth opened, showing its white teeth, and its tongue lolled, laughing with her.
A sense of recognition tingled in Irène's bones and throbbed in her forehead. Her laughter died. She came to her feet, facing the creature. It scrambled down from the tree trunk, its lithe body weaving through the branches as easily as a stream of water might. It stood on the opposite bank. Its tail arced above its back, a plume of red and black. Its unblinking gaze fixed itself on her.
Irène whispered, "Are you here for me?"
Again the fox's mouth opened in its grin, and its tail waved once, twice, before it leaped the little brook as easily as if it could fly. Irène stood very still as the fox stepped toward her on narrow black feet as dainty as a dancer's. It---he, she could see now---pressed his cold black nose against the back of her hand, and, when she turned it, nosed her palm.
She thrilled at the touch, though the touch of so many other beasts disgusted her. He was different, this fox. It was not just that he was beautiful, and graceful. It was more, much more. Her soul knew him. Her power flared in his presence.
He took a step back, his eyes never leaving hers, then whirled and leaped back over the brook to disappear into the forest on the other side. The last thing she saw was that lush red-and-black tail, switching back and forth as he faded into the dimness of the woods.
Irène brought her palm to her nose and sniffed the toasty smell of him. She knew what he was, and she knew what it meant. Her mother had Aramis. Her grandmother, Ursule had told her, had had an ugly gray cat. And she---now, surely, a witch in full possession of her power---had a glorious vulpine creature like no other. She had her fox. She would see him again.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“Morwen kept a good pace over the green lawn, but she paused in the side garden, where the sorrel tree's feathery leaves had turned a brilliant scarlet. A great white hydrangea made a backdrop for clumps of lobelia and lilyturf.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“Like true country people, they loved watching the countryside change with the seasons. They savored the trees turning green in the spring. They saw the summer flowers blossom, fade, and drop. They exclaimed over the autumn colors, gold and red and rust. They watched the leaves fall, and the fields turn sere, to be purified by winter. The wheel of the year turned once, twice, three times.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“Your father, like most men, is terrified of a woman who doesn’t fit his ideal of womanhood, because he doesn’t know how to control her. You need to remember that any frightened man is a dangerous one.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“You would think they'd be grateful for women with knowledge."
"It's rarely true. Men are vain."
"Even when they're wrong?" Irène laughed. "That's stupid!”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“The gardener kept the planting of wintersweet against the southern wall, tucked behind an ell, out of sight of the drive or the front entrance. It caught the sun there, he said, and though it was a dull plant when it wasn't in flower, it was useful for perfuming soap. Morwen loved the yellow, waxy blossoms that bloomed when everything else in the garden had gone dormant for the winter.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches

“There was a place beside the River Thaw where she sometimes passed a lazy afternoon when she could escape from Mademoiselle. It was a nest of sorts, or a bower, shielded by a stand of three weeping willows so old that their roots extended down the bank into the river itself. Their golden-leaved branches hung right down to the earth, like the ribs of a broken umbrella.”
― Louisa Morgan, A Secret History of Witches