castle

Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one__ own self.

Perrotte frowned. ____ like to turn a plowshare into a sword ,_ she said. ____ cut our way out of those thorns, and then use it to run my enemies through__ She bit off her next words and swallowed them. Sand stared at her, aghast. She met his eyes, defiant. __hat? You don__ like bloodthirstiness?_ she asked. __ardon? No. I__ horrified that you would dull a sword on that thorn brake. I could make you some pretty good hedge shears.

The shrine I prayed at not to go to university,_ Sand said.__ guess your prayer was answered,_ Perrotte said.Sand strongly considered throwing something at her__ut there was nothing to hand that wasn__ sacred.

Saint Melor__ father was Saint Meliau.___as everyone in Bertaèyn a saint, back in the day?___veryone who didn__ murder anyone, maybe,_ Perrotte said.

I__ alive,_ he groaned. __ut I__ not doing a very good job of it.

And turnips - endless ruptured turnips.

You__e not mending anything, remember, Sand? The hedge._ He paused and shook his head at himself. __nd Perrotte__ away for a few minutes, and you__e talking to yourself again.

The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it__ exhausting to get them out in the right order._ He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she__ heard one. She raised an eyebrow.

How did you get into the castle, Alexandre, son of Gilles Smith?_ Sand shrugged. __ saint kidnapped me from his shrine and put me into a fireplace here. So I guess the answer is, a miracle of Saint Melor. Or so I think. He has not told me._ __f you are trying to antagonize him, you are doing a good job,_ Perrotte whispered. Sand scuffed his shoe at her. ____ just telling the truth!_ __ou__e very good at telling it in the most maddening way possible.___hank you?

My husband and I click wedding rings sometimes and say, 'By the power of the Castle of Greyskull!'

The home to everyone is to him his castle and fortress, as well for his defence against injury and violence, as for his repose.

A man's house is his castle.

Yes, your home is your castle, but it is also your identity and your possibility to be open to others.

Since its sudden birth the city had expanded, swallowing up acre upon acre of the surrounding grasslands and drawing thousands into its domain. Hardly built on the most advantageous ground, miles from the open waters, decades from the mines at the mountain summits, it yet remained the only settlement of note on the isle. This sprawling mass of a city, once a compact kingdom, was now the keystone of the Castilian Empire.

A man's home is his wife's castle.

Logan lowers his head close to mine. 'Just know this, Ivy Calhhoun,' he begins. 'If I werena a ghost I would open all door for you, properly.

You're crazy,' I say.'Aye,' Logan says. 'Crazy about you.

On Mars, the joke went, a man__ hole was his castle where values of castle approached dorm room.