The Vanishing at Castle Moreau Quotes

“It is what, as women, God has designed us to do--- to watch out and care for one another. A sisterhood that is greater than fear, and a holy strength that conquers evil.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Sometimes life was just too burdensome to maintain your sanity. Sometimes you needed a refuge but finding one could be elusive. Like trying to catch a cloud.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“A commonality seemed to stretch between her and Lincoln. Both imprisoned by life but in different ways. Castoffs by society for no other reason than her being orphaned and Lincoln having dysfunctional limbs. Both of their minds were sharp, and beyond that, their hearts, their very souls beat with the essence of life. With the ability to love. With the need for understanding, for human kindness, and for a glimpse into eternity, where God promised all would be perfection with no more cruel judgements from others, no more ostracizing and condemnation of His children.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“If the world is full of terror, how can there be beauty at all?"
"La beauté existe là où commence l'amour," she whispered in my ear. In the language of my mother. In the music that feared being snuffed from my soul.
In spite of my fear, I believed her.
Beauty exists where love begins.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Pastel pink petals from the apple blossoms in the nearby orchard floated past on the breeze, a glimpse of beauty in the ruins of a place riddled with curses.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“The strength of a man whose own darkness could battle someone else's and perhaps come out stronger. A champion. A hero.
Daisy barely registered her actions before she threw herself into his arms. Nor did she contemplate what possible good a man could do against a force of evil when he was sitting in a wheelchair, unable to rise to do battle.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“A woman is a powerful creature, Daisy François. Do not underestimate the power you wield.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“You realize that if you aren’t an ambassador for your own feelings and thoughts, then no one else shall be either?”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Perhaps this was why God didn't wipe the earth clean of the wicked. He chose instead to use the weak ones, such as her, to rise up in His strength and become warriors.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Needing to touch the tangible was a fatal flaw in humanity”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“She would no longer speak fear into my world with good intent, but instead she would leave it for me to inherit. To warn other women through story that wickedness lurks, but hidden in the words was a secret. A clue. To escape to the Castle Moreau. Each story called to the downtrodden, to the woman who had no place to find freedom. In every story the woman with the crooked hand ever told me, it always ended with the words, "Beauty is found in walls of stone, beauty where love begins."
Hidden among the travesties and nightmares of violence, all the abused must know that of this place. Only they would recognize the words for what they were. For only the broken are searching for a place to heal.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Then what is your story, Cleo Carpenter--- if that's even your real name?" He bent his head lower, and she smelled mint on his breath. It intoxicated her. Drew her toward him. His fingers trailed down her cheek, her neck, and toyed with a strand of her hair. "What's your story, Cleo? Why are you here? Why are you hiding?"
"Please don't ask. Don't ask questions that you won't like the answers to." Cleo's whisper was silenced as Deacon lowered his mouth to hers.
His kiss was tender at first. Hesitant. Not what she would have expected from a man like Deacon Tremblay, who had probably kissed many women in his lifetime. Cultured women. Women more beautiful than her. Less broken.
"Cleo..." His murmur rumbled in her ear as his lips moved along her jaw. "Don't leave me. Not yet. Not now."
"But---"
He stopped her again, this time with more fervor in his caress. Cleo whimpered for a moment before giving in to him. Hands at her waist, Deacon drew her closer, his chest pressing against hers. She couldn't help lifting her hands to his shoulders, then around his neck, her fingers threading their way into his dark curls.
Deacon pulled back, then changed his mind and kissed her again before finally giving her a moment to breathe. But breathing didn't feel possible. No more was he Deacon Tremblay in the media, or Deacon Tremblay the sought-after bachelor--- well, maybe he still was that a little, and if she was being honest, it gave her a thrill--- but mostly he was just Deacon. Deacon who needed her. And she needed him.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Was that their lot in life, something women like them had to accept? To try to be content as violence and cruelty touched their lives? Yet God had not created them for this. Daisy chose to believe that. They said that God was good and yet there was so much evil. He did not wipe it out, and the evildoers seemed to prosper when the poor and abused simply... vanished from memory.
Daisy noted the church at the far end of the street. Its steeple with a cross perched on top. There was more to God than she understood, but there was hope in her heart too. She had read a Psalm once in which the author pled for vengeance against wrongdoers, and later he praised God for providing a way of escape. A refuge.
Resolved, Daisy straightened her shoulders. She must find a refuge. Answers for Elsie, for Hester May--- even for Lincoln. Perhaps this was why God didn't wipe the earth clean of the wicked. He chose instead to use the weak ones, such as her, to rise up in His strength and become warriors.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Just because my ancestor built a flipping castle in a place like Wisconsin, this is the kind of attention we get?"
"It's not the only castle in the Midwest," Cleo offered, hoping to diffuse the situation.
They stood around Stasia's car, no one getting in. Dave leaned against the trunk of his own vehicle parked ahead of Stasia's.
"No. It's not," Stasia agreed. "There's one in Ohio. Built by German immigrants.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“You could fire me and send me away. Then where would I be? You know what happens to girls like me, who have no home to speak of? We end up riding the trains westward, picking up work at brothels, being worthless women in the eyes of society. Castle Moreau is a terrifying place, Mr. Tremblay. Your grandmother is horrific, and you, sir, are nothing short of a beast behind a desk ready to spring on me. So no, I do not speak my mind. I bite my tongue to stay alive, stay employed, and stay free of the defiling way of life many women in my shoes find themselves."
She bit her tongue, contrary to what she'd just said, and everything inside of Daisy quivered at the realization. Perhaps her red hair did hide a smart wit after all, but a smart wit didn't imply a smart mouth, and she'd shown little wisdom in allowing Lincoln Tremblay to goad her into an honest outburst.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“I'm not a scared kitten," Cleo protested, though she wasn't so sure she believed it.
"No?" Deacon tilted his head to study her. A bunny then?"
"I'm not a rabbit."
"Fish?"
"I don't swim."
"Ah!" He snapped his fingers. "You're a leopard gecko!"
"A what?" Cleo frowned. She'd not expected that at all.
"You know, one of those lizards people have as pets. They prefer to stay hidden but can be very loyal and friendly companions once you earn their trust.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“I've a feeling there's more to you under the surface."
And he would try to find out? No, thank you. Cleo shook her head. "I'm just me."
"Who doesn't care to find regular employment and fill out the required tax documents." His lopsided grin matched his haphazard dark curls. "It's okay!" Seeing her anxiety spiking, he held up a hand. "I'm not going to dissect you." Deacon moved the chair back to the corner where he'd found it, muttering under his breath, "I know what being under a microscope feels like.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Still afraid of people, are you?"
"Never afraid, Grand-mère, only distrusting. Have you ever had your face on the internet with the headline 'American Royalty Does the Director's Daughter' touting your previous night's adventure?"
Cleo was glad neither of the Tremblays was looking at her. A hot blush covered her face at how cavalier Deacon was about his past escapades, not to mention his choice of words.
Virgie gave a little snort. "No, because I never fooled around. In my day, we remained faithful for the sake of appearances, if not morality."
"Mmm, good advice, but a tad too late for me, Grand-mère," Deacon said.
Cleo's cheeks were blazing hot now. She studied the water in her glass as if it were a fascinating exhibit at an art museum.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“There must be a reason to smile, Miss François. Will you supply one?"
It was Daisy's turn to stare.
For a long moment they held each other's gaze. His dark, hers a bright green that probably made him unhappy that her eyes naturally smiled. But then, to Daisy's surprise, the corner of his mouth quirked. Just a bit.
"Perhaps having you here will provide a reason to smile. There is so little in Castle Moreau that inspires joy."
Daisy nodded, this time refusing to put her thoughts into words.
Lincoln Tremblay drummed his fingers on the book while searching her face. "You are not what I expected."
Daisy bit the inside of her upper lip.
He smiled then. It was small, but it reached his eyes and tilted the sadness that lingered there into a hint of admiration. "Green eyes are compelling," he admitted, and it struck Daisy with surprising force. "As are others who care for those in need.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“No wonder Castle Moreau sucked women in and never spit them back out. If all the past decades had a Tremblay or a Moreau man within the castle's vicinity, there wouldn't be one woman in her right mind who would ever go back home.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“He was a dark, handsome man. The kind who just needed a shave and he'd be perfect. His chiseled jawline was covered in stubble that was almost a full beard, his eyes were gold with a dark-brown perimeter, and he had curly raven-black hair combed back from his forehead. Overall, he had a definite Mediterranean look to him.
It was Deacon Tremblay.
She didn't need the internet to verify his identity. His picture, his profile, his every feature were embedded in the minds of all American women. Probably in the minds of international women too.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Moreau, the guy who built the castle at the beginning of the nineteenth century, built it for his wife. But she died shortly after. That's when others began to vanish. It's like a Star Trek vortex. Sucks in women and never spits them back out."
"That's morbid," Cleo said.
Stasia waved her off. "So is crime TV, but I watch it all the time. You don't?"
"No."
"That sucks." Stasia shrugged again, her mouth twisting in a look of pitiful apology. "Crime TV prepares you. Like, you'll never vanish if you know how a killer thinks. You'll be ready for them. True preparedness and survival skills.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“You're not his lover, then. I can tell that by the look in those pretty blue eyes. He would have snuffed out that anxiousness and you'd be more like a cat. Victorious that you'd snared the neighborhood tom."
"Okay, that's enough." Cleo found her voice again. The woman was anything but grandmotherly, and if she wanted to talk about cats, she was plenty catty--- although Cleo found offense to that on behalf of Murphy, who was now perched on the car's dash, staring at Mrs. Tremblay with an aura of censure.
Censure away, Murphy. The woman deserves it.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“I’m sorry. . . . For whatever happened to you to steal the life from your eyes. To make you so afraid.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“It is in the dark corners, in the places we avert our eyes from, where truth lingers. Truth is not palatable. In fact, most cannot manage the truth.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Death had avoided her, while life itself had extended a hand and insisted there was purpose. There was refuge.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Castle Moreau might be the residence of Madame Tremblay and her grandson Lincoln, but it was not a home. It was a void. Like a person without a heartbeat. A corpse that lay lifeless with no spirit to inhabit it.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau

“Tonight she would sleep with spiders and spirits, the visions of Miss Havisham, and the terrors of echoing castle walls. All in the woods, in a place where a castle didn't belong.”
― Jaime Jo Wright, The Vanishing at Castle Moreau