These Witcher quotes are sure to inspire and motivate you. There are so many Witcher quotes that can help you when you are tired of being in the same old rut, and all you need is a little push, a little inspiration, a smile on the face, change of mood, bring you out of the banality of life, make you laugh a little, or may even make you cry a bit, and these Witcher quotes exists just do that.
The Witcheris at long last available on Netflix, enlivening one of the most famous dream show to take off lately. The tales of Geralt of Rivia are not really new, the books have been in stores since the mid-90s and have been adapted into English beginning in the year 2007. Be that as it may, with the accomplishment of the hit video game version of the title, fans were eager to see The Witcher get its on-screen rendition.
Netflix’s new show The Witcher is loaded with vital quotes, numerous with profound basic messages that rise above into regular day to day existence. One explanation the games got such recognition was their high caliber of composing. This brought a desire that the composition of the TV show would be similarly extraordinary.
The main season of Netflix’s The Witcher is accessible now for download, however,critiques got asneak-peek at the initial five episodesin order to give their review. All things considered, productions weren’t permitted to set up their reviews until the day the show was officially available online, making one wonder of whether the entire show is as harsh as those first shots of Henry Cavill’sGeralt wig.
We have dug up these Witcher quotes from the depths of the internet and brought together the best of these sayings in a single article. This post is probably the biggest database of Witcher Sayings in a single place. These famous Witcher quotes have the power to change your life by giving a novel outlook about the way you observe different aspects of your life. Hence, these popular Witcher quotes should be read with caution and a proper understanding of the context. Here are tons of Witcher quotes that will open a treasure chest of Wisdom and experiences: –
“Evil Is Evil…Lesser, Greater, Milling. It’s All The Same.”
“Sometimes The Best Thing A Flower Can Do For Us Is Die.”
“I Bow To No Law Made By Men Who Never Bore A Child.”
“They Took My Choice, I Want It Back.”
“Respect Doesn’t Make History.”
“There Is Not A Person Alive Who Does Not Look In The Mirror And See Some Deformity…Except For Us.”
“If I Have To Choose Between One Evil And Another, Then I Prefer Not To Choose At All.”
“There Is Not A Person Alive Who Does Not Look In The Mirror And See Some Deformity…Except Or Us.”
“I Love The Way You Just Sit In A Corner And Brood.”
“I Bow To No Law Made By Men Who Never Bore A Child.”
“But A Promise Made Must Be Honored. As True For A Commoner As It Is For A Queen.”
“I Hate To Break It To You, But That Ship Has Sailed, Wrecked, And Sunk To The Bottom Of The Ocean.”
“States Rise And Fall Like The Tide.”
“They Took My Choice. I Want It Back.”
“We Have To Cling To Something. If We Don’t, The World Descends Into Chaos.”
“People,” Geralt turned his head, “like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live.”
Dandelion spoke first; elaborately, fluently, colourfully and volubly, embellishing his tale with ornaments so beautiful and fanciful they almost obscured the fibs and confabulations. Then the Witcher spoke. He spoke the same truth, and spoke so dryly, boringly and flatly that Dandelion couldn’t bare it and kept butting in, for which the dwarves reprimanded him.
And then the story was over and a lengthy silence fell.
‘To the archer Milva!’ Zoltan Chivay cleared his throat, saluting with his cup. ‘To the Nilfgaardian. To Regis the herbalist who entertained the travellers in his cottage with moonshine and mandrake. And to Angoulême, whom I never knew. May the earth lie lightly on them all. May they have in the beyond plenty of whatever they were short of on earth. And may their names live forever in songs and tales. Let’s drink to them.”
“You won’t do it.’ Bonhart’s voice resounded in the complete silence. ‘You won’t do it, witcher girl. In Kaer Morhen you were taught how to kill, so you kill like a machine. Instinctively. To kill yourself you need character, strength, determination and courage. And they couldn’t teach you that.”
“And you? Don’t you have dreams now?’
‘I do,’ he said bitterly. ‘But seldom since we crossed the Yaruga. And I remember nothing after waking. Something has ended in me, Cahir. Something has burned out. Something has ruptured in me . . .’
‘Never mind, Geralt. I shall dream for both of us.”
“I’m not surprised at Yennefer,’ he said as he walked. ‘She is a woman and thus an evolutionary inferior creature, governed by hormonal chaos. But you, Geralt, are not only a man who is sensible by nature, but also a mutant, invulnerable to emotions.’ He waved a hand. There was a boom and a flash. A lightning bolt bounced off the shield Yennefer had conjured up. ‘In spite of your good sense—’ Vilgefortz continued to talk, pouring fire from hand to hand ‘—in one matter you demonstrate astounding and foolish perseverance: you invariably desire to row upstream and piss into the wind. It had to end badly. Know that today, here, in Stygga Castle, you have pissed into a hurricane.”
“The bounty hunter looked at him long and hard. Until Tawny Owl’s smirk finally vanished. ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Everyone has to make a living. Some earn money doing what they’ve learned. Others do what they have to. But not many craftsmen have been as lucky in life as I am: they pay me for a trade I truly and honestly enjoy. Not even whores can say that.”
“I’ll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin – which does not seem likely to me – I’ll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster has killed me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it is not what I chose. It was chosen for me.”
“After all,’ added Sheala, pouting her lips, ‘it’s befallen all of us at some time. Each of us, sitting here, has been cheated, taken advantage of, and made a laughing stock of by some man, at some time.”
“Night and day the streets resounded with music, song, and the clinking of chalices and tankards, for it is well known that nothing is such thirsty work as the acquisition of knowledge.”
“I am very tired. I watched the death of my friends who followed me here to the end of the world. They came to rescue your daughter. Not even knowing her. Apart from Cahir, none of them even knew Ciri. But they came here to rescue her. For there was something in her that was decent and noble. And what happened? They found death. I consider that unjust. And if anyone wants to know, I don’t agree with it. Because a story where the decent ones die and the scoundrels live and carry on doing what they want is full of shit. I don’t have any more strength, Emperor.”
“Then the prophetess said to the witcher: “I shall give you this advice: wear boots made of iron, take
in hand a staff of steel. Then walk until the end of the world. Help yourself with your staff to break the land before you and wet it with your tears. Go through fire and water, do not stop along the way,
do not look behind you. And when the boots are worn, when your staff is blunt, once the wind and the heat has dried your eyes so that your tears no longer flow, then at the end of the world you may
find what you are looking for and what you love…
The witcher went through fire and water, he did not look back. He did not take iron boots or a staff
of steel. He took only his sword. He did not listen to the words of prophets. And he did well because she was a bad prophet.”
“Forgive me,’ he said a moment later. ‘You’re right. I put you at risk. It was too dangerous a task for a—’ ‘For a woman, you mean?’ she said, jerking her head back, ﬂicking her still wet hair from her shoulder with a sudden movement. ‘Is that what you were going to say? Are you playing the gentleman all of a sudden? I may have to squat to piss, but my coat is lined with wolf skin, not coney fur! Don’t call me a coward, because you don’t know me!”
“It’s all my fault,’ she mumbled. ‘That scar blights me, I know. I know what you see when you look at me. There’s not much elf left in me. A gold nugget in a pile of compost—’ He turned around suddenly. ‘You’re extremely modest,’ he drawled. ‘I would say rather: a pearl in pig shit. A diamond on the finger of a rotting corpse. As part of your language training you can create even more comparisons. I’ll test you on them tomorrow, little Dh’oine. O human creature in whom nothing, but nothing, remains of an elven woman.”
“Madam Yennefer, Forgive me. I’m riding to Hirundum because I want to see Geralt. I want to see him before I start school. Forgive my disobedience, but I must. I know you’ll punish me, but I don’t want to regret my indecision and hesitation. If I’m to have regrets, let them be for deeds and actions. I’m an enchantress. I seize life by the scruff of the neck. I’ll return when I can. – Ciri”
“You are an anachronistic witcher, and I’m a modern witcher, moving with the spirit of the times. Which is why you’ll soon be out of work and I’ll be doing well. Soon there won’t be any strigas, wyverns, endriagas or werewolves left in the world. But there’ll always be whoresons.”
“Your mother gives birth to you only once and only once do you die,’ the witcher said calmly. ‘An appropriate philosophy for a louse, don’t you agree? And your longevity? I pity you, Filavandrel.’
The elf raised his eyebrows.
‘You’re pathetic, with your little stolen sacks of seeds on pack horses, with your handful of grain, that tiny crumb thanks to which you plan to survive. And with that mission of yours which is supposed to turn your thoughts from imminent annihilation. Because you know this is the end. Nothing will sprout or yield crops on the plateaux, nothing will save you now. But you live long, and you will live very long in arrogant isolation, fewer and fewer of you, growing weaker and weaker, more and more bitter. And you know what’ll happen then, Filavandrel. You know that desperate young men with the eyes of hundred-year-old men and withered, barren and sick girls like Toruviel will lead those who can still hold a sword and bow in their hands, down into the valleys. You’ll come down into the blossoming valleys to meet death, wanting to die honourably, in battle, and not in sick beds of misery, where anaemia, tuberculosis and scurvy will send you. Then, long-living Aen Seidhe, you’ll remember me. You’ll remember that I pitied you. And you’ll understand that I was right.’
‘Time will tell who was right,’ said the elf quietly. ‘And herein lies the advantage of longevity. I’ve got a chance of finding out, if only because of that stolen handful of grain. You won’t have a chance like that. You’ll die shortly.”
“Eternity is hidden in every moment.”
“How does it happen, thought Ciri, what can it be ascribed to, that in all worlds, places and times, in all languages and dialects that one word always sounds comprehensible? And always similar?
“Yes. I must ride to my mamma. My mamma is waiting for me.”
“Geralt,’ said the lawyer, closing his eyes. ‘What drives you? If you want to save Ciri . . . I wouldn’t have thought you could afford the luxury of contempt. No, that was badly expressed. You can’t afford the luxury of spurning contempt. A time of contempt is approaching, Witcher, my friend, a time of great and utter contempt. You have to adapt. What I’m proposing is a simple solution. Someone will die, so someone else can live. Someone you love will survive. A girl you don’t know, and whom you’ve never seen, will die—’ ‘And who am I free to despise?’ interrupted the Witcher. ‘Am I to pay for what I love with contempt for myself?”
“Because your faith and sacrifice, the price you’re paying for your silence, will make you a better, a greater being. Or, at least, it could. But my faithlessness can do nothing. It’s powerless.
‘You ask what I believe in, in that case.’
‘I believe in the sword.”
“My first noble deed. You see, they’d told me again and again in Kaer Morhen not to get involved in such incidents, not to play at being knight errant or uphold the law. Not to show off, but to work for money. And I joined this fight like an idiot, not fifty miles from the mountains. And do you know why? I wanted the girl, sobbing with gratitude, to kiss her saviour on the hands, and her father to thank me on his knees. In reality her father fled with his attackers, and the girl, drenched in the bald man’s blood, threw up, became hysterical and fainted in fear when I approached her…”
“Emotions, whims and lies, fascinations and games. Feelings and their absence. Gifts, which may not be accepted. Lies and truth. What is truth? The negation of lies? Or the statement of a fact? And if the fact is a lie, what then is the truth? Who is full of feelings which torment him, and who is the empty carapace of a cold skull? Who? What is truth, Geralt? What is the essence of truth?’
‘I don’t know, Yen. Tell me.’
‘No,’ she said and lowered her eyes. For the first time. He had never seen her do that before. Never.
‘No,’ she repeated.
‘I cannot, Geralt. I cannot tell you that. That bird, begotten from the touch of your hand, will tell you. Bird? What is the essence of truth?’
‘Truth,’ the kestrel said, ‘is a shard of ice.”
“I always thought it was a beautiful and noble state of mind, noble and dignified, even if it makes one unhappy. After all, I’ve composed so many ballads about it. And it is organic, Geralt, meanly and heartbreakingly organic. Someone who is ill or who has drunk poison might feel like this. Because like someone who has drunk poison, one is prepared to do anything in exchange for an antidote. Anything. Even be humiliated.”
“A little sacrifice, he thought, just a little sacrifice. For this will calm her, a hug, a kiss, calm caresses. She doesn’t want anything more. And even if she did, what of it? For a little sacrifice, a very little sacrifice, is beautiful and worth… Were she to want more… It would calm her. A quiet, calm, gentle act of love. And I… Why, it doesn’t matter, because Essi smells of verbena, not lilac and gooseberry, doesn’t have cool, electrifying skin. Essi’s hair is not a black tornado of gleaming curls, Essi’s eyes are gorgeous, soft, warm and cornflower blue; they don’t blaze with a cold, unemotional, deep violet. Essi will fall asleep afterwards, turn her head away, open her mouth slightly, Essi will not smile in triumph. For Essi… Essi is not Yennefer.”
“Ballad, uważasz, nie pisze się o niezwykłościach, ale o banałach. Sztuka polega na tym, aby uczynić je niebanalnymi. Trywialne przekuj w egzotyczne, brzydkie w piękne, kłamstwa w prawdy.
Wiesz, co ja ci powiem? Że taka neutralność, gdy biją przyjaciela, to gówniana neutralność! I gówniany taki przyjaciel.”
“I should,’ she moaned again, ‘be grateful that you don’t try to take advantage of the situation. But this is not the case. I am ashamed of that too. I hate your silence and your eyes dilated with fear. I hate you… for your silence, your sincerity, your… Her too, I hate her, the sorceress; I would gladly settle things with her using my knife… I hate her. Order me to leave, Geralt, because I can’t bring myself to do that on my own, and yet that is what I want: to leave, go to the town, go to the hostel. I want revenge on you for the shame I feel, my humiliation… I’ll take the first opportunity…”
“- I co? – nie wytrzymał poeta. – Co jest na tym polu?
– Ano – Dhun uniósł głowę, podrapał się za uchem. -Ano, grasuje tam diaboł.
– Co? – parsknął Jaskier. – Co takiego?
– Przecie mówię. Diaboł.
– Jaki diaboł?
– A jaki ma być? Diaboł i tyle.
– Diabłów nie ma!
– Nie wtrącaj się, Jaskier – rzekł Geralt spokojnym głosem. – A wy mówcie dalej, mości Dhun.
– Przecie mówię: diaboł.
– To już wiem. – Geralt, gdy chciał, potrafił być niesłychanie cierpliwy. – Powiedzcie, jak wygląda, skąd się wziął, w czym wam przeszkadza. Po kolei, jeśli łaska.
– Ano – Dhun uniósł sękatą dłoń i jął wyliczać, po kolei odginając palce, z wielkim trudem. – Po kolei, jako żywo, mądry z was człek. Ano, tak. Wygląda to on, panie, jak diaboł, wypisz wymaluj diaboł. Skąd się wziął? Ano znikąd. Bęc, trzask, prask i patrzym: diaboł. A przeszkadzać to on nam po prawdzie nie zanadto przeszkadza. Bywa nawet, że pomaga.
– Pomaga? – zarechotał Jaskier, usiłując wyciągnąć muchę z piwa. – Diabeł?
– Nie wtrącaj się, Jaskier. Mówcie dalej, panie Dhun. W jaki to sposób pomaga wam ten, jak powiadacie…
– Diaboł – powtórzył z naciskiem kmieć. – Ano, pomaga tak: grunt użyźnia, glebę wzrusza, krety tępi, ptaki płoszy, rzepy i buraków dogląda. A i liszkę, co się w kapuście lęgnie, zjada. Ale kapustę takoż po prawdzie zjada. Nic, ino by żarł. Jak to diaboł.”
“My mother says you are the soul of sorcery, a diabolic creation a filthy degenerate born of Hell.”
Bard :”When a humble bard , Graced a ride along with Gerald of Rivia Along came this… song , from when the While Wolf thought , A silver-tongued devil, His arms of elves , At his hooves did they travel , They came after me , With masterful deceit, Broke down my lute, And they kicked in my teeth , While the devil’s horns Minced out tender meat and so cried the Witcher , He can’t be bleat
Bard: “Destiny is just the embodiment of the soul’s desire to grow”
Pig girl: “I can not only guess the age and breed of your horse but also its color by the smell”
Yennefer: “Nobody smart plays fair”
Witcher : “I talk to my horse”
Witcher : “its fine to fly in the face of overzealous authority but to pretend it’s anything other than making a profit “
Bard :”I’m weak, love and I’m wanting , if this is the path I must trudge , I’ll welcome my sentence , Give to you my penance, Gorgeous garroter ,jury and judge, Lovely garroter “
Witcher : “mutations , they are intentional”
Witcher :”the people who made us , they made us sterile for a lot of reasons , One of the kinder ones is because this life isn’t suited to a child “
“Time eats away at memories, distorts them. Sometimes we only remember the good… sometimes only the bad.”
“Know when a legend becomes a prophecy? When it gains believers.”
“I Run Into Dilemmas All The Time. Situations Where It’s Hard To Judge, Hard To Know What’s Right, Make A Decision. This Is Not One Of Them. You Disgust Me. And Deserve To Die.”
“Why Men Throw Their Lives Away Attacking An Armed Witcher . . . I’ll Never Know. Something About My Face?”
“Your vision is a world where people are afraid to venture out after dark; not for fear of cut-throats, but of the guardians of public order. For, after all, the result of all great crackdowns on miscreants is always that the miscreants enter the ranks of the guardians of public order en masse. Your vision is a world of bribery, blackmail and entrapment, a world of turning imperial evidence and false witnesses. A world of snoopers and coerced confessions. Informing and the fear of being informed upon. And inevitably the day will come in your world when the flesh of the wrong person will be torn with pincers, when an innocent person is hanged or impaled. And then it will be a world of crime.”
“I am master of my own fate.”
“You Don’t Need Mutations To Strip Men Of Their Humanity. I’ve Seen Plenty Of Examples.”
“One more lie’d be the last bitter drop in a chalice full of sorrow”
“A true witcher should never abandon poultry in distress.”
“Two things only the greatest fools do: throw stones at hornets’ nests and threaten a witcher.”
“Finish all your business before you die. Bid loved ones farewell. Write your will. Apologize to those you’ve wronged. Otherwise, you’ll never truly leave this world.”
“Keep The Gods Out Of It. Swear On Your Heads. Which I Will Take If You Break Your Vow.”
“There’s Nothing Behind Me. I’m A Witcher, I’d Have Heard It. Just Like I Can Hear Your Heart. Which Is Pounding . . . Like A Liar’s.”
“I run into dilemmas all the time. Situations where it’s hard to judge, hard to know what’s right, make a decision. This is not one of them. You disgust me. And deserve to die.”