Fantasy Quotes - Page 56

…I bet I’ll haunt your dreams tonight. I just wan’ed to paint a picture in your head. I wan’ed you to see me as the monster I can often be. You see, you are what you allow people to know ‘bout you. Truth or lies or some combination of the two, is what makes you who you are. So, you don’t know me yet. But what I need you to know about me for now, is that I can’t be trusted.

We must all allow ourselves the fantasy of projection from time to time, a chance to clothe ourselves in the imaginary gowns and tails of what has never been and never will be. This gives some polish to our tarnished lives, and sometimes we may choose one dream over another, and in the choosing find some respite from ordinary sadness. After all, we, none of us, can ever untangle the knot of fictions that make up that wobbly thing we call a self.

I will not wear a tulle-tailed dunce cap for anyone or for any reason.

If someday you should ever think of me and miss me, know in your heart that I'd want you to find me once again. No matter how distant in time or space... FIND ME.

I've been thrown into a turbulent triangle, but even though I have deep feelings for Shiray doesn't mean my feelings will disappear for Melanie immediately. Fate has really dealt me a cruel hand of cards.

The moon people do not eat by swallowing food but by smelling it. Their money is poetry - actual poems, written out on pieces of paper whose value is determined by the worth of the poem itself.

Support Imagination. Read a book.

I may not have journeyed to other lands, but a trip through the fairy glade is a journey few others have taken, and fewer still have spoken of. I will look forward to taking you with me, Killian. You will see why I always feel the need to return."He was not remotely certain he would ever share her sentiments.

Once it gets off the ground into space, all science fiction is fantasy.

Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisioned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!

Why do the birds return?”t“What d’you mean?” Brandon looked lost all of a sudden.t“I mean, they could go anywhere. They’re free…so why do they return to this place?” tBrandon grinned. “Cause home’s home no matter how bleak.

If I'm damned, what's the point of pretending that I'm not?

He had to die someday too. He might do it on sheets with a six-hundred-plus thread count, but he'd die just the same. Death wouldn't forget about him.

He didn't say anything more, just waited for me to tell him what I'd been thinking. It was pure speculation, and I was opening myself up to ridicule by saying anything at all. I sat on the stool and realized that I had my loyalties, too.

Lettie shrugged. “Nobody actually looks like what they really are on the inside. You don’t. I don’t. People are much more complicated than that. It’s true of everybody.

Science fiction makes the implausible possible, while science fantasy makes the impossible plausible.

Believing in unknown future, destiny, predestination without working hard to see it through is a mere fantasy

Thomas Randall and Christopher Golden not only are inventive writers but write in a sense to grab your attention cover to cover! I absolutely advise you to read,"The Waking" series. You'll love it if you are into the movie,"The- Grudge". I'm currently working on reading the second book of the trilogy.

And with the melody came the unmistakable sound of water slapping against the rocks far below us, slowly eroding the foundation of Port Coire and everything I loved.

What else did you imagine?" His voice is low and rough and oh, so fucking sexy. "Tell me what happens next.""You already know, " I whisper. "All the very good, very wrong things.""I want to hear you say it.""Okay," I say through my teeth. "You fuck me until I forget my own name.""Wrong," he says. "I fuck you until the only name you know is mine.

Let mental suffering be intense enough, and it becomes a sort of carminative.

In a fight between a shifter and a witch, the shifter would often win—but only if they could keep the witch from speaking, usually by severing the throat or tearing out the tongue. If the witch was powerful enough, and quick enough, physical size didn't matter. Catherine had heard of the horrible ways the witches could kill their victims. Cooking them alive from the inside out, restricting oxygen flow through the nasal and oral passages by creating a vacuum, drowning them with vapor pulled from the very air.It made fights between shifters look almost humane by comparison.

If I rolled the dice carved out of my weathered boneAnd offered of my blood the libation to the faneWhen even the reaper’s mockery forsakes me aloneMy own clangorous thoughts are the last to remain

I don't pay much attention to the distinction between fantasy and science fiction–or between “genre” and “mainstream” for that matter. For me, all fiction is about prizing the logic of metaphors-which is the logic of narratives in general–over reality, which is irreducibly random and senseless.We spend our entire lives trying to tell stories about ourselves–they’re the essence of memory. It is how we make living in this unfeeling accidental universe tolerable. That we call such a tendency “the narrative fallacy” doesn’t mean it doesn’t also touch upon some aspect of the truth.Some stories simply literalize their metaphors a bit more explicitly.