欧宝娱乐

“I don't need a cloak to become invisible.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

“His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

“The melodious song mesmerized me and cloaked my soul in a most liberating embrace I had never known. The emotion enveloped me, and smothered the emptiness.”
― J.D. Stroube, Caged in Spirit

“What IS it about this town? I never thought I鈥檇 long for the good old days of Nazi robots and dragons.”
― C.T. Phipps, The Rules of Supervillainy

“He was wearing a purple cloak over his shoulders in a strange, foreign fashion, his arms folded inside it. His face was deathly pale, but as his great black eyes stared at me, a dagger seemed to pierce my heart. A feeling of horror ran through me, and quickly turning my face away, I summoned all my strength and continued speaking. But as though compelled by some magic force, I could not help looking over towards him again and again. He still stood there, impassive and motionless, his ghostly eyes fixed upon me. Something resembling bitter scorn and hatred lay on his high, furrowed brow and his drawn lips. The whole figure had a horrible, frightening air about it. It was... it was the mysterious painter from the Holy Linden.

Cruel, icy fingers clutched at my heart. A fearful sweat on my forehead; my phrases stuck in my throat, and my speech became more and more incoherent. But the terrible stranger still leant silently against the pillar, his glassy eyes set unwaveringly on me.”
― E.T.A. Hoffmann, The Devil's Elixirs

“Religion is a means of exploitation employed by the strong against the weak; religion is a cloak of ambition, injustice and vice . . . . Truth breaks free, science is popularized, and religion totters; soon it will fall, in the course of centuries--that is, tomorrow. . . . In good time we shall only have to deal with reason.

[From Bizet, by William Dean. Colier Books, 1962]”
― Georges Bizet

“I'll say this, Arik: the old man's warning proved to be true - things are not always what they seem. She was no young lady -"
"If it's the demon you speak of," interjected Rith, as she stepped back into the ruin, Lyssa following after, "she was not even a toothless old hag.”
― Dennis L. McKiernan, Caverns of Socrates

“Later, when she appeared before him in the sea-green gauze, he stared at her in great surprise, and said: By Jove, he had never thought she could look so well! Encouraged by this tribute, Hero showed him a cloak of green sarsnet trimmed with swansdown, which she had purchased that morning, and upon his expressing his unqualified approval of this garment, confided, a little nervously, that she feared he might, when he came to see the bill, think it a trifle dear.”
― Georgette Heyer, Friday's Child

“A clue is a key which unlocks聽a box full of keys - those peculiarly tempting arrangements of聽circumstance and fate聽are points of departure which聽lead to infinite realms of mystery that聽beckon with the taboo of hidden knowledge.聽 I am compelled to follow where the curling finger of聽intrigue聽flits seductively among shadows whose origins lie in primeval聽antiquity.聽 The Forbidden Occult is forever enshrined in the luminous聽cathedral of my imagination.聽聽Every philosopher's stone I look聽under carries my mind聽aloft on the fairy聽wings of discovery to ever higher treasures of exponentially expanding conscious awareness.”
― Sean Terrence Best, Cloak of the Devil

“I don't know why any of you think this is your lucky day,' he yelled back as he turned around. He shattered the arrow in his fist. 'It's really not. Not when my cloak has been ruined. And I really liked it. It was warm, and now it has godsdamn holes in it. How will that keep me warm?”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

“The resulting garment was black, of course. But it was like no fabric I'd ever seen before, liquid and faintly glimmering. He had ordered each of his guardians to donate several of their feathers, and these he had woven into the material. They were not visible exactly, except as a suggestion of wings when the cloak caught the wind. It was a garment that needed no adornment, for it was like something snipped out of a dream, and he gave it none, apart from the row of buttons. I would have expected him to pick the finest of those I had gathered, but instead he chose a selection that would represent all the regions of his realm: silver from the Weeping Mines and the lower tributary of the Tromlu River; carved oak from the antlers of one of the hag-headed deer; colored marble from the Blue Hooks. The effect was more impressive than if he had adorned himself in jewels, for together the buttons possessed an enchantment that made strange images flit through my mind when I looked upon them, memories of places I'd never seen. A shadowy grove around a narrow standing stone; a flash of mist-shrouded water tumbling down a sheer cliff.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales