Fantasy Quotes - Page 22

To save the queen who held his heart in her scarred hands.

Every moment of a science fiction story must represent the triumph of writing over worldbuilding.Worldbuilding is dull. Worldbuilding literalises the urge to invent. Worldbuilding gives an unnecessary permission for acts of writing (indeed, for acts of reading). Worldbuilding numbs the reader’s ability to fulfil their part of the bargain, because it believes that it has to do everything around here if anything is going to get done.Above all, worldbuilding is not technically necessary. It is the great clomping foot of nerdism. It is the attempt to exhaustively survey a place that isn’t there. A good writer would never try to do that, even with a place that is there. It isn’t possible, & if it was the results wouldn’t be readable: they would constitute not a book but the biggest library ever built, a hallowed place of dedication & lifelong study. This gives us a clue to the psychological type of the worldbuilder & the worldbuilder’s victim, & makes us very afraid.

Maybe because I knew Haze and Kate so well by then the passage leapt out at me, clear and sharp as di

She fantasized sometimes too about killing him a little: a little poison in his pudding, a little flick-flick-flick with a fillet knife at his throat.

Do you feel it? That roaring call?

I’m not broken. Not really,” I sighed. “My name is Novaleigh. Novaleigh Darrow.

Why do you have such a nice Bible?” Kelsea asked.“The Bible is a book, Kelsea, a book that has influenced mankind for thousands of years. It deserves to be preserved in a good edition, just like any other important book.”“Do you believe it’s true?”“No.”“Then why did I have to read it?” Kelsea demanded, feeling resentful. It hadn’t been a particularly good book, and it was heavy; she had hauled the damned thing from room to room for days. “What was the point?”“To know your enemy, Kelsea. Even a book can be dangerous in the wrong hands, and when that happens, you blame the hands, but you also read the book.

The seed of the gift may come, but a seedling that isn't nourished dies quickly.

And there you stand-Far away from the distant reality,Far away in my breathing dream,Far away in the traces of my livid eyes,Far away in my hostile fantasy.

It was as if this night were only one of thousands of nights, world without end, night curving into into night to make a great arching line of which I couldn't see the end, a night in which I roamed alone under cold, mindless stars.

...Wizard's Fifth Rule: Mind what people do, not only what they say, for deeds will betray a lie.

She couldn't live in denial of her own humanity.

Death is my art form--when I fight, I'm a ballerina. Graceful. Chi lacks my grace, but makes up for it in energy and enthusiasm. His fighting style is like breakdancing--strong and frenetic with some really sweet moves. Jo's is . . .the Macarena. Ugly but gets the job done.

It's been a pleasure pleasing you.

Let’s just say that once the party was over, the Tribe had the decency to put most of the things back into place with the possible, and otherwise notable, exception of the platypus and a moronic drinking game that later evolved into the imperial measurement system.

:Do you trust me?: Wareska quietly linked.:To stay alive? No. You and the monster will get lost in riddles and philosophizing. Then you will make some grand, heroic gesture, poorly thought-out and overestimating your own strength, and when the creature has roasted you alive, I will be the one sweeping up the ashes – figuratively speaking, of course. Lest we forget, I do not have hands.:

What’s not to love? I made friends with a pretty girl and now we get to plan a castle break in. This beats the day to day kill, eat and survive.

All right," said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.

There are no boundaries among the geese. How can you have boundaries if you fly?

That somehow, this insufferable girl would become the one person I am forever, hopelessly, madly drawn to against my will and possibly even my better judgment.

Beauty to beguile, spies to ensnare, and gold, always gold, to tempt, to trap, to control.

I’m not above using unsavory beings to kick the Gods’ asses, but the Phantoms are too unpredictable for my taste,” I said.

Today is a fantasy for tomorrow has gone and yesterday is here!

Most of my kin are bastards," [Tyrion] said with a wry smile, "but you're the first I've had to friend.

Focus on what's ahead. Use what is behind.

Lilith came to Longinus in the night, as she often did, and the darkness of the cave was filled with the lustful sounds of their passionate couplings. Afterwards, as he lay back with his eyes closed, she ran her cool fingers playfully across his chest and whispered honeyed words in his ear.

Taking Morgana with it, the lightning arced back through the clouds; leaving behind nothing but the last echoing remains of her scream.

Westcliff thinks that St. Vincent is in love with you.”Evie choked a little and didn’t dare look up from her tea. “Wh-why does he think that?”“He’s known St. Vincent from childhood, and can read him fairly well. And Westcliff sees an odd sort of logic in why you would finally be the one to win St. Vincent’s heart. He says a girl like you would appeal to…hmm, how did he put it?…I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something like… you would appeal to St. Vincent’s deepest, most secret fantasy.” Evie felt her cheeks flushing while a skirmish of pain and hope took place in the tired confines of her chest. She tried to respond sardonically. “I should think his fantasy is to consort with as many women as possible.”A grin crossed Lillian’s lips. “Dear, that is not St. Vincent’s fantasy, it’s his reality. And you’re probably the first sweet, decent girl he’s ever had anything to do with.

Where was his knife, upon which he relied? He had cut cheese for their noonday meal, and had packed the knife away with the cheese.Aillas said: 'Sir, before we continue with this matter, may I offer you a bite of cheese?''I care for no cheese, though it is an amusing concept.''In that case, allow me a moment while I cut a morsel or two for myself, as I hunger.''I have no time to spare while you eat cheese; prepare instead for death.

I stumble across the sea of tarmac, finding pavement, concealment and a brick wall. Palms brace against the scrubby surface. My stomach churns and then bubbles over, burning my throat as acrid yellow acid spills from my lips in frothy discomposure. It splatters the pavement like a spray of blood.

Kevin was sitting on the railing waiting patiently and looking up at the sky with his mouth agape in a totally comical way. Kayn walked up beside him and teased, “Trying to catch flies?” (The Children of Ankh series) Kim Cormack

Those who believe in it are the ones who find it

Bright star of Eanna, forgive me the manner of this, but you are the harbor of my soul’s journeying.

It was a musty sweet smell. "Is this plague city?

Losing someone close to you is more haunting than a life of cursed solitude.~The Moon Master

Happy Endings are an illusion. Real life is filled with brief moments of fleeting happiness, but ultimately every life is a tragedy that ends in death and grief.

I ran to the beat of the forest song, the pulse of the wind and melody of the birds seemed ignite a flame my blood. The swaying of the trees and the hiss of the bromegrass called out to me, urging me to go faster and run harder.

Fantasy stories will always be popular, as there are always readers who are willing to escape, freely, to the worlds that the authors create, and spend time with the characters we give life to.

Do not fear death, fear sleeping without waking up instead.

Shandy looked ahead. Blackbeard, apparently willing to get the explanation later, had picked up his oars and was rowing again. 'May I presume to suggest,' yelled Shandy giddily to Davies, 'that we preoceed the hell out of here with all due haste.' Davies pushed a stray lock of hair back from his forehead and sat down on the rower's thwart. 'My dear fellow consider it done.

He hadn’t been able to help himself, couldn’t have stopped himself from kissing her even if he’d tried. Fighting with her was a million times better than dreaming, and the fight had conjured his soul to act, to kiss her. And that kiss was nothing like anything he had ever experienced before.He knew if he would die then, he’d die a happy man because it meant he’d savor her forever, relish her passion among his. She’d tasted so sweet, like the sweetest fruit or the sweetest dessert. Her lips were heaven on his, his heaven on Earth.

How charming. The king and his little princess knocking on my covens door.” Ursula sighed dramatically. “What do you insolent merfolks want with me now? I swear I haven’t eaten any of your children.”-Ursula

Everyone is a criminal! We are beset on all sides by antirevolutionary forces. Naturally, then, humans fall into three categories: the criminal, the not-yet-criminal, and the not-yet-caught.

Careful not to blur the lines between what belongs to characters, and what does not belong to you. Even 'reality tv' is scripted. Don't get it twisted. ~T.F. Hodge

The fact that you can't see how much you're worth makes you worth so much more." She opened her mouth once, her brow bunched, but nothing came out. She didn't know the words to ask. I continued. "A diamond doesn't know how much it's worth; it's just beautiful because it exists.

Theologians, and religionists in general, start with a fantasy premise and then proceed to apply rigorous formal logic to tease out its implications. Stark himself points out that “theology consists of formal reasoning about God.” This is admirably exact. Theologians, beginning with a wished-for creation of their own minds, analyze that creation’s characteristics by rigorous application of the principles of formal—that is, deductive—logic.

for he had acquired, as time went on, the firm conviction that any thought, even the most audacious, that any fiction, even the most insane, can one day materialize and see its fulfillment in space and time.

The soft, fluttering cry of a barn owl rose over the churchyard. Silent men flowed out of the dark.

Things began to go wrong when I was seventeen. My band’s twenty-year-old lead guitarist earned seven years in jail for a drug-fuelled spree of violence. The other band members were quick to let go of their musical dreams, but I never did. They did the ‘mature’ thing: after writing off the band as a teenage fantasy, they got real jobs and made some money. They called it growing up. I called it giving up.

Maybe this journey is a way for you to get your redemption..." he said softly, "Maybe, if Elder Man Belduran is right, it is the start of a journey, that leads to redemption for all of us...""Not all of us... There's no redemption for Elder Man Vaymaz..." Melchor replied softly, before turning and continuing to walk.

I love you all for bearing with me, whether I was asking your opinion on the best sources to base the magic in the book off of, hearing your suggestions on wording, or having an argument with you on just how "that sentence has completely correct grammar." On that note, also telling me when the fantasy just got way too cheesy.

To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed

Before she could let herself think, Clara burst from the door and bolted for the table. People just began turning when she grasped the guest and shoved him to the ground, the chair flying backwards. Wine and food spilled everywhere as he flung out his arms. For a moment, she felt a swift pressure, as if her hair was being pulled, before strong hands gripped her, flinging her to the floor. A boot pressed into her back and she felt the cold tip of blade on her neck above her slave's collar.

What did you do?" Kate asked."Nothing. We're inside the wards." Simon laughed and drank the elixir.She looked around with surprise. "How can you tell? At night? In the snow?""That tree." He indicated an ash tree standing amidst other ash trees."It looks like a thousand other trees.""No, it looks like you." Simon took a shallow, pained breath, but smiled. "It's my marker."Both Kate and Malcolm stared at the tree. Kate cocked her hip. "It looks like me? A tree? That's flattering.""Yes. See how the curves--" Simon worked his hands in an hourglass shape. "It looks like you.

Hastra, you think you see, but you don't see this. You never have." Corgren, from The Bow of Destiny

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there really is some goodness here in our world. But if goodness existed, that must mean that darkness existed as well.

My mind screams for me to run, but my feet are planted where they are. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. There’s no way this is real!

He barely heard the gasp escape her lips, but he did see her brilliant brown eyes, how they danced with alarm at his presence, how her lips trembled slightly with what she had done, yes, and now for the glare in his eyes. He knew she could see the hunger they held, he knew she could see, in that moment, just who he truly was...what he was. Yes, Christian knew she could see all these things, knew she could do nothing but bask in the monster that he was.Which was why he was not surprised when she stepped toward him, her shaking lips moving, allowing the low sound of her voice, her sweet, drawing voice, to enter his terribly haunted ears, the ears that caught every breath, heard every pulse of scared heart:“My Lord...your eyes....”“Yes,” he barely whispered, the word hardly escaping his throat. The hunger was all he could feel, her blood all he could smell, the pulse of lust just there beneath her skin, calling him, drawing him ever closer.... And yes, he felt the skin of her neck, felt the blood just there, her blood...his food.

The fantastic in literature doesn't exist as a challenge to what is probable, but only there where it can be increased to a challenge of reason itself: the fantastic in literature consists, when all has been said, essentially in showing the world as opaque, as inaccessible to reason on principle. This happens when Piranesi in his imagined prisons depicts a world peopled by other beings than those for which it was created. ("On the Fantastic in Literature")

I live in two unique worlds, traveling between both with just the opening or closing of my eyes.