Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Wight. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Wight Quotes And Sayings by 79 Authors including Alfred Lord Tennyson,Robert Bridges,E. E. Cummings,Donald E. Westlake,John Updike for you to enjoy and share.
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?
what if a much of a which of a wind
Hoke Moseley is a magnificently battered hero. Willeford brings him to us lean and hard and brand-new.
Tall as he is, there is no carrying the slope under his shirt as anything other than a loose gut, a paunch that in itself must weigh as much as a starving Ethiopian child.
Every one thinkes his sacke heaviest.
The fortunate man is the one who cannot take more than a couple of drinks without becoming intoxicated. The unfortunate wight is the one who can take many glasses without betraying a sign; who must take numerous glasses in order to get the 'kick'.
Akthent on thee latht thyllable.
your uncle Geoffrey.
Think of England as a very large book. The Cotswolds would be an unfussy chapter in the middle somewhere where there is lots of limestone and even more sheep.
It is that word 'hunny,' my darlings, that marks the first place in The House at Pooh Corner at which Tonstant Weader fwowed up.
To a close shorn sheep, God gives wind by measure.
To whom the wilie Adder, blithe and glad.
You drive the landscape like a herd of clouds Moving against your horizontal tower Of steadfast speed. All England lies beneath you like a woman With limbs ravished By one glance carrying all these eyes.
You know nothing, Jon Snow!" "Who
Here, are the stiffening hills, here, the rich cargo
Congealed in the dark arteries,
Old veins
That hold Glamorgan's blood.
The midnight miner in the secret seams,
Limb, life, and bread.
- Rhondda Valley
What, nephew, said the king, is the wind in that door?
The thick plottens.
[on John Cowper Powys] ... there is an indistinct photograph of the great man himself, gazing into the misty cleft of a mountain range, wearing what could be an old rug, or an old cardigan. He looks like a cross between an aged werewolf and a puzzled child.
I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too.
Get off me. You weigh more than the doors to your home.
every mind is at least as heavy as mine
I weigh more than a mountain but less than a feather.
Jesper Llewellyn Fahey, that is enough!" Colm roared. (...)
Inej cocked her head to one side. "Jesper Llewellyn Fahey?"
"Shut up," said Jesper. "It's a family name."
Inej made a solemn bow. "Whatever you say, Llewellyn.
Steady of heart and stout of hand.
The blade of grass in the wind, he weighs himself in pure naturalness.
Necklace. The parchment curled, blackened, and took flame. Theon was aghast. "Have you gone mad?" His father laid a stinging backhand across his cheek. "Mind your tongue. You are not in Winterfell now, and I am not Robb the Boy, that you should speak to me so. I am the Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke,
Leanness of body and soul may go together.
Don't you mean, witch?
My whinstone house my castle is, I have my own four walls.
I love Jon Snow's character.
Yorkshire word and means spoiled and
Thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.
You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know.
I know people like Jon Snow a lot.
There is strength in numbers and those numbers come in pounds.
Drink a health to the wonders of the western world, the pirates, preachers, poteen-makers, with the jobbing jockies; parching peelers, and the juries fill their stomachs selling judgments of the English law.
What soilders whey-face? The English for so please you. Take thy face hence.
In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary?
Dawn crept over the Downs like a sinister white animal, followed by the snarling cries of a wind eating its way between the black boughs of the thorns. The wind was the furious voice of this sluggish animal light that was baring the dormers and mullions and scullions of Cold Comfort Farm.
What is more gentle than a wind is summer?
Stout as a horse
When we die, no one remembers us for what we weighed. Our weight isn't etched into our headstones.
Tonstant Weader fwowed up.
Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal the mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne.
Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her. Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father's name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice. Instead he had chosen honor. A bastard's sort of honor.
Today dies a crooked and gluttonus man' - it was true, at least literally; McCullough allegedly weighed three hundred pounds and suffered from scoliosis.
Take heede of an oxe before, of an horse behind, of a monke on all sides.
Lovely the woods, waters, meadows, combes, vales,
All the air things wear that build this world of Wales.
Gwynned lies two days westwards; still further south, the weregeld calls. Mayhap with All-Father Woden's favour, my deeds may yet inspire the skalds.
In good yeares corne is hay, in ill yeares straw is corne.
He was lanky, wiry as an apostrophe mark, and dressed in clothes that appeared to have come from a beggar's bin.
Good King Wenceslas tastes great; We might as well eat Stephen, When the brains lay round about, Toasted crisp and bleedin'. Brightly shown the moon that night, Though the virus cruel. When a poor man came in sight, He made fine undead fuel.
Let an ill man lie in thy straw, and he looks to be thy heire.
So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.
All the rare and royal names
Wormy sheepskin yet retains
It is the Mass the matters.
Merridew might not have been the slenderest of men or the tallest. But he had grip, he had cunning and like many fat men he had unexpected resources of indignation which he was able to turn on like a flood when they were needed.
The Raynbowe bending in the skye,Bedeckte with sundrye hewes,Is lyke the seate of God on hye,And seemes to tell these newes:That as thereby he promised,To drowne the worlde no more,So by the bloud whiche Christe hath shead,He will oure health restore.
Felds hath eyen, and wode have eres.
My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer and I have my mind ... and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone if it is to keep its edge. That's why I read so much Jon Snow.
Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder'd string?
I am shamed through all my nature to have lov'd so slight a thing.
I am well in body though considerably rumpled up in spirit.
Castles are Forrests of stones.
Shew me a lyer, and I'le shew thee a theefe.
What is thine is mine, and all mine is thine.
Wolf - tis what he is. He's not blackhearted like some men. 'Tis no heart he has at all.
It is seldom that the imagination is disappointed in the 'ancestral piles' of England.
Out on the moors,
The lonely moors,
I roll around in sheep poo.
Heathcliff, it's youuuuu,
I hate you, I love you tooooo.
Let me in, I'm here, it's meeeee,
Catheeeeeeee.
Look out of your windooooow.
Losing weight. When we finish eating this horse I
Professor Branestawm
There's ten thousand wyes a hen can get into a gairden, but only the wan wye she can get oot, and it's gey ill for her to find it.
Sheep with a nasty side.
For the benefit of those half-dozen people who will see a name like Gwillim and put this book down in order to go look it up to see where it comes from - it is the Welsh version of William
The outside world might have finally turned into autumn, but inside the Waverley house it still smelled of summer. It was lemon verbena day, so the house was filled with a sweet-tart that conjured images of picnic blankets and white clouds like true-love hearts.
My weight is my love.
How many threadbare souls are to be found under silken cloaks and gowns!
A bran' new book is a beautiful thing, all promise and fresh pages, the neatly squared spine, the brisk sense of a journey beginning. But a well-worn book also has its pleasures, the soft caress and give of the paper's edges, the comfort, like an old shawl, of an oft-read story.
Thurst [thrust] out nature with a croche [crook], yet woll she styll runne back agayne.
Howl,heart is a heavy burden.
In fierce March weather White waves break tether, And whirled together At either hand, Like weeds uplifted, The tree-trunks rifted In spars are drifted, Like foam or sand.
Jon Snow, you know nothing. You don't go in with clothes.
It's surely summer. for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.
Out there in the middle of the maelstrom the Eater awaits, heaving and gulping, its mouth like a giant clam's . . . its mind a frenzy of beige-colored rapid foam. A horrifying uproar, all things considered. Imagine floating through that nonsense in a life jacket. - EDWARD ABBEY
I look a hundred and weigh 110 - you won't love me when you see the wreck England has made me.
For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde, Ay fleeth the tyme; it nyl no man abyde.
Judge not by the number, but by the weight.
We thought you would not die - we were sure you would not go; And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel blow - Sheep without a shepherd when the snow shuts out the sky - Oh, why did you leave us, Eoghan? Why did you die?
To happy folkAll heaviest words no more of meaning bearThan far-off bells saddening the Summer air.
If you would on'y lay your course, and a p'int to windward, you would ride in carriages, you would. But not you! I know you. You'll have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang.
Be careful of your spelling, if an o can make count cunt, what it might do to you.
The 'crownd' is strong>ststrong>ill the unit, the favourite coin of the labourers, especially the elder folk. They use the word something in the same sense as the dollar, and look with regret upon the gradual disappearance of the broad silver disc with the figure of 'St. Gaarge' conquering the dragon.
Colchester, Ash, my captain, staking my body with his cock like a conqueror, like a king.
White
Godiva, I unpeel --
Dead hands, dead stringencies.
Hapmshire" typo,
Tyrion Lannister was bundled in furs so thickly he looked like a very small bear
My Morris, bless his heavy-hung manhood, was a muscular man too."
Bloody hell, is she talking about her dead husband's manly parts? His tadger?
How weightless/ words are when nothing will do.
Thiel, tall, troubled, bewildered
Merry's mind devolved into chaos. Ideas evaded her. Words chased one another into meaningless jumbles. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the ghastly image of William's lifeless body twisting in the wind, solidified and held.