Quotes

And when they were at the water side, even fast by the bank hoved a little barge with many fair ladies in it, and among them all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur. Now put me into the barge, said the king. And so he did softly; and there received him three queens with great mourning; and so they set them down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his head. And then that queen said: Ah, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long from me? alas, this wound on your head hath caught over-much cold. And so then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him.

Sir Thomas Malory, Le Mort d’Arthur (via night-filled-mountain)

That’s the other thing about having professors as parents: They name you after totally random authors—like poor Geoff, after Geoffrey Chaucer—or characters from literature, such as the Lady of Shalott, aka Lady Elaine, who killed herself because Sir Lancelot liked Queen Guinevere—you know, the one Keira Knightley played in that King Arthur movie—better than he liked her. 

I don’t care how beautiful the poem is about her. It’s not exactly cool to be named after someone who killed herself over a guy. I have mentioned this several times to my parents, but they still don’t get it.

Avalon High by Meg Cabot (via to-many-towered-camelot)

The heart in me pounds like a hammer
On an anvil of rage and betrayal
But I bring the angel of death to life
He’s goin’ down the hard way
Goin’ down, Oh I’m burnin’ like a flame

Mordred (The Hard Way, song from The Once and Future King album part II)

The pale, blue-veined fingers plucked at the red wool blanket. “I wish I had something to leave to you, my boy.”

Arthur’s reply was measured, but the feeling he was holding in check was still visible. “You leave me a kingdom,” he said, “and the skills with which to lead it. You leave me a dream. I only hope, Grandfather, that I can bring it to fruition for you.”

Merlin’s eyes searched the carefully disciplined face of his grandson. At last he said in his slow, slurred speech, “I never expected you to forgive me.”

Arthur bowed his head. “It was not your fault,” he answered with difficulty. Merlin said nothing, just looked at the top of that ink-black head. This was a subject that had not been raised between them for ten long years.

“All my life, for almost as long as I remember, you have been there behind me,” Arthur finally said in a muffled voice. He raised his head and the emotion he had been so carefully guarding was naked in his brilliant eyes. “What am I going to do without you?” he asked. And Merlin, holding out his arms to receive the slim, hard-muscled body of his grandson, was suddenly, fiercely, happy.

Joan Wolf, The Road to Avalon

(via anincantationofstories)

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started