Fantasy Quotes - Page 18

This war's not over! Not by a long shot! --Enoch

I don't ever dream about you and meI don't ever make up stuff about usThat would be considered insanityI don't ever drive by your houseTo see if you're inI don't even have an opinionOn that tramp that you are still seeingI don't know your timetableI don't know your face off by heartBut I must admit that there's still a part of meThat thinks we might get on

We fight monsters and unholy creatures for a living here. Grotesque, evil, violent, dangerous; they’re certainly all these things. And yet, we somehow manage to go to sleep each night and wake up each morning. The terror wears off. What was horrific becomes mundane. We lose ourselves to a numbed normalcy after a while, a self-inflicted detachment. You forget how you got here, what it was like before. And then someone comes along, someone new, someone who sees it all with fresh eyes, and it snaps you out of your daily coma, reminding you of what you’ve forgotten. Of what you’ve become.

From time to timeI once wondered how one wanders from time to timeAnd think up the paradox lineSpeak of Epoch's crimeOh I lied, it hasn't happened yetBut bet you better believe it's such a habit thatI just said that in a past mindset

Come! our world is done:For all the witchery of the world is fled,And lost all wanton wisdom long since won.

I’m a starving child trying to stuff my stomach, gorging my senses on the decadence of these moments as if I’ll wake up in the morning and realize I’m still sweeping cinders for my stepmother.But then Adam’s lips press against my head and my worries put on a fancy dress and pretend to be something else for a while.

Reality runs the risk of spoiling things, don't you think? The fantasy is often better. That's where the soul is fulfilled. Reality struggles to fulfil the soul, that's why we're often so unhappy. But fantasy is the world of the soul...

This is what we are for, Alin,” the older guardsman said, turning to his companion. Adare had never heard anyone use Birch’s first name. She hadn’t even known it herself. “Our lives for hers. If she refuses this, there’s no saying what the zealots will do to her.”“There’s no saying what the zealots will do if she agrees,” Birch pointed out. “We can’t save her if we’re dead.”“That is a risk that the princess will have to assess for herself. Our duty is to serve.”“I thought service meant fighting,” Birch protested, but the anger had gone out of him. Resignation thinned his voice.“Sometimes, Alin,” Fulton replied, nodding. “And sometimes it means dying.

For every blissful moment you must an anguish meet.

My heart was oaken before you set it on fire. It will continue to smolder, long after the flame that ignited it has gone.

There was an image in my mind—an expectation of what it would be like when I finally gave myself fully to a man. It wasn’t like this. It was always at night with candles flickering lazily, music filling the air with a sexy melody, and maybe a bubble bath. But no. It was infinitely better, and there was no froo froo, stereotypical scene that played out. It was incredible. Brilliant. Amazing. Indescribable, really. Like all the planets in the galaxy aligned for a perfect moment in time. As if this was the beginning of time. From now until the rest of eternity, everything finally had meaning.

If the path isn't in front of you, you can't choose to walk it." - Viriathus, Revelation

You will do as you are told the second you are told to do it. Is that clear?''I'm not six mother, I think I can grasp standard sentences.' Whether I chose to pay attention to them however...

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.The wind knew. It was the first of June, but cold gusts bit at the hilltop citadelle as fiercely as deepest winter, shaking the windows with curses and winding through drafty halls with warning whispers. There was no escaping what was to come.

Men aren't an inexhaustible resource, even for a king. Soldiers must have faith that their sacrifices are worthwhile.

...sometimes when you are lost for direction, you are open to a new way of seeing.

Galloway pursed his lips and then gave a sly smirk. “I’ll admit I didn’t foresee this. You have become a prominent foe. I apologize for ridiculing you.”“I accept your apology.”“Good. Now it’s time to die.” “Are you ready old man?”Galloway sputtered out a laugh. “Oh yes.”“Then let’s end this.

You are not one of Pentrigrel’s creations. This is not where you belong. He will not keep his word to you. He is concerned only with himself. You cannot condemn yourself to this over Lunette’s fate.

Choose well how to live the next moment.

There are moment of sadness and moment of joy. This is life.

I glanced at Derek. The boy wonder didn't melt into a pile of goo, although his gaze was glued to Rowena's chest. Avoiding eye contact. Good strategy.

Fantasy imposes order on the universe. Or, at least, it superimposes order on the universe. And it is a human order. Reality tells us that we exist for a brief, beleaguered span in a cold infinity; fantasy tells us that the figures in the foreground are important. Fantasy peoples the alien Outside, and it doesn’t matter a whole lot if it peoples it with good guys or bad guys. Putting ‘Hy-Brasil’ on the map is a step in the right direction, but if you can’t manage that, then ‘Here Be Dragons is better than nothing. Better than the void.

My stomach knotted up as heat surged through me. Why did I feel like melting every time I saw him, or heard him talk? “Stop that right now.” I blushed. “I know what you’re doing, Jace, and it’s not going to work.”Jace and Charlie.

He’d used the amulet to read my thoughts again. I pictured smacking him in the face.

Come, Leigh, come with me...

I have knowledge; I'm responsible. If I sit by and do nothing while I have the ability to change, to help, then I'm just as much a criminal as any. Power begets responsibility...You should know that.

Happily-ever-after monogamy has been reinforced so steadily in literature that we tend to feel like failures when we don’t achieve that in reality.

Maxine,” Grant said, but I barely heard him. I was lost in that vision, in those emotions—the pain, and hunger for pain, forming the root of so muchagonized rage.“ ‘Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate,’” I muttered.“Yoda, from Star Wars?”“ ‘Hate leads to suffering.’” I met his gaze. “Yoda knows his shit, man.”Grant’s mouth crooked in a gentle smile.

Love her enough to let her live.

I am always a perfect gentleman. If you ever want me to not be a perfect gentlemen, you’ll have to ask and not be crying when you do.

You know what killed off the dinosaurs, Whateley? We did. In one barbecue.

The sword has no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage

Do you believe in eternal love, Vane?"He nodded. "When you live for hundreds of years, you see all kinds of things.""How does someone know the difference between that and infatuation?"He sat up between her legs, then pulled her into his lap to cuddle. "I don't think there is a difference. Ithink infatuation is like a garden. If tended and cared for, it grows into love. If neglected or abused itdies. The only way to have eternal love is to never let your heart forget what it's like to live without it.

The rulers were using ancient knowledge to manipulate the amygdaloidal primal fear. They ruled through fear, preternatural fear created through soft, invisible waves designed to alternate the brain’s almond. They kept the people spellbound

The cave exploded with the sound of trumpets.A heavenly choir began to sing.A surge of power ran up the sword into Henry's hand.A voice thundered through the cavern. "Whosoever Pulleth The Sword From Out The Stone, Is Rightwise Born King of All England."Henry screamed and threw the sword into the lake.

A face stared up at her from the mirror beside her hand. Was that really what she looked like? Was that really what she looked like, all sharp lines and huge silver-grey eyes? Certainly, no one would ever call those features beautiful, Jame thought ruefully; but were they really enough like a boy's to have fooled that old man the alley? Well, maybe with that long black hair out of sight under a cap. It was a very young face and a defiant one, she thought with a odd sense of detachment, but frightened, too. And those extraordinary eyes... what memories lived in them that she could not share? Stranger, where have you been she asked silently. What have you seen? The thin lips locked in their secrets."Ahhh!" Jame said in sudden disgust, tossing away the mirror. Fool, to be obsessed with a past she couldn't even remember. But it was all behind her now.

Debilitating guilt crushed Gabriel every time he interacted with Morgan. The Ange'el's affection for the human was weakening his mandate to control her movements and influence her decisions. His task was, once again, to deceive and manipulate. He seemed destined to betray the confidence of those he held most dear.

This reminds Faron of those stupid dogs that people put in their cars, that when the car moves, the dogs frantically nod their heads, like some demented, freshly graduated psychologist, with their first patients.

Othalas: Words. What are they but shadows on a page or howling on the wind? They are as ever-changing as the mists below us and it is just as easy to lose sense of yourself among them. I am older than most sorcerers so what I know may, indeed, be close to the truth. Magic, wyrd, words, dreams, they all come from the spirit. Within them lie both power and peril. For to misuse any is to warp your sense of self. To lie in words, or in magic, or in dreams -- that is how you become lost. The lights you see, they were lost long before they came to the Vale.

In the beginning there was only Darkness.

Death. Life. They are in the air, the water, the earth, and the fire that surround us. They co-mingle like a dance of weeping and rejoicing. The joy and pain become one. We are of a dualistic nature." ---Jennifer Mills

Achan gritted his teeth and recalled Sir Eagan's words. Love was not taking because you wanted, he'd said. Love was sacrifice.

What's a Laster? A dead man.

The gods do not visit you to remind you what you know already.

Consequences lost all purchase when they became mad. And desperation, when pressed beyond anguish, became narcotic.

To me, the best, if not the only function of imaginative writing, is to lead the human imagination outward, to take it into the vast external cosmos, and away from all that introversion and introspection, that morbidly exaggerated prying into one's own vitals—and the vitals of others—which Robinson Jeffers has so aptly symbolized as "incest." What we need is less "human interest," in the narrow sense of the term—not more. Physiological—and even psychological analysis—can be largely left to the writers of scientific monographs on such themes. Fiction, as I see it, is not the place for that sort of grubbing.

Sulphurous wind gusted in his wake the dust of the street swirled and the folds of his black coat flapped against his thin body.

I watched her shadow merge with the darker colours of the deep sea.

Denna is a wild thing," I explained. "Like a hind or a summer storm. If a storm blows down your house, or breaks a tree, you don't say the storm was mean. It was cruel. It acted according to its nature and something unfortunately was hurt. The same is true of Denna.

Violators cannot live with the truth: survivors cannot live without it. There are those who still, once again, are poised to invalidate and deny us. If we don't assert our truth, it may again be relegated to fantasy. But the truth won't go away. It will keep surfacing until it is recognized. Truth will outlast any campaigns mounted against it, no matter how mighty, clever, or long. It is invincible. It's only a matter of which generation is willing to face it and, in so doing, protect future generations from ritual abuse.

No, I do not believe in fate, that some spirits of the heavens weave the laws of the world to make it so. That is dogma for the foolish, for the universe is quite able to deal with such matters herself, to use her natural laws to guide matter and the spirits. Even so, souls within the world can act to naturally shift the cause of events. Magister Brennark did say that ‘Nothing happens unless we make it so.’ I believe you have made it so, Wolfdon, and how foolish it would be for us to ignore an opportunity that you yourself established, whether you knew you were doing so or not.

I have no way to describe this, and I am positive that this is all just a horrible dream I have yet to wake up from. The vice principle is insane. My own uncle is insane. Those stupid kids are insane. Mother Nature is insane...

Don’t know what I’m talking about? Don’t know what I’m talking about!” My shout hit notes that normally only Wagnerian sopranos can reach. “You think you’re a freaking leprechaun, but I don’t know what I’m talking about?

He grinned. “Do not fear. I am here to serve you, as I promised.” Despite the fit of schoolgirl giggles that had seized her in Carbonek when he first proposed to be her knight, his assurance annoyed her now. “You inspire me with confidence,” she said, honey-sweet. “With a few more years and experience, you would make a capable guardian, I’m sure.” “And you an amiable ward,” he said, bowing again.

Humans had a genius for devising instruments of death. Their lives were so short and they seemed to value them so little, sending waves of men to clash in battlefields, then weighing victory by the piled corpses. And if they held their own lives so worthless, the lives of everything else were as fruit to pluck from trees.

The king is dead. Long live the queen.

Don't be a fool for the Devil, darling.

We both knew the place we were at and what that meant. We both felt the regret and the loss. We both knew that without me, none of it would have been possible. Without me, everything would be different. Without me, we wouldn't have been there... lying in that bed in the first place.

Have I..." I venture, terrified of the potential answer. "Have I gone mad?" "No, no, no." She says. "Okay, oui, peut-être, that depends. Maybe you have gone a little mad, and only for a little spell.

You want fantasy? Here's one... There's this species that lives on a planet a few miles above molten rock and a few miles below a vacuum that'd suck the air right out of them. They live in a brief geological period between ice ages, when giant asteroids have temporarily stopped smacking into the surface. As far as they can tell, there's nowhere else in the universe where they could stay alive for ten seconds. And what do they call their fragile little slice of space and time? They call it real life.