Fantasy Quotes - Page 6

I only want to catch you,” Michael explained. “I won’t hurt you.” “No! No!” the star crackled desperately. “That’s wrong! I’m supposed to die!” “But I could save you if you’d let me catch you,” Michael told it gently.“No!” cried the star. “I’d rather die!

Those of strong character and training are chosen by fate. They cannot help but rise to the forefront when their nations are troubled.

Come away, O human child!To the waters and the wildWith a faery, hand in hand,For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

I hate goblins.

The fantastic is in complicity with the realist model, in the claims that realism makes to represent the true face of reality. It points to the gaps and inadequacies of realism, but does not question the legitimacy of its claims to represent reality. The concept of “suspension of disbelief', that beloved criterion of positivist criticism supposedly serving to establish the legitimacy of the fantastic, confirms this hegemony.

I don’t need immortality. The fear of death keeps a girl sharp. It helps us remember that what we do here, now, matters. What good is immortality if you’re just a dirty little despot in some shitty corner of the world?

Yes, I’m Daniel Tahi." I know what your lips taste like.I know you roll your eyes when you think someone is an idiot. I know that you wish you were six inches shorter because you hate being taller than most of the boys you've ever met. Your name is tattooed across my chest and written on my heart.You are a fire daughter of earth, fanua afi and I am vasa loloa,son of the ocean. I am yours...And you can’t even remember who I am.

I think it simply comes down to fantasy being the language I speak. While I cannot get into epic sword and sorcery, I see the world as having the potential to be slightly off-kilter. I have run into people who do not quite seem human – though of course they are – and have been privy to coincidences that almost make me believe in magic. Fantasy is sometimes just asking yourself, “Well, what if you are wrong? What if the world doesn’t work the way you think? What would that mean?

There were fat cats and skinny cats. The long-tailed and the bobbed. The daring young leapers, and the old windowsill sleepers. Balls of waddling fluff, smooth-coated prowlers, and hairless ones that looked fragile and wise. The tiger-striped, the ring-tailed, and the ones with matching coloured socks and mittens. There were tabbies and calicos. Manx and Persians. Siamese and Bombay. Ragdolls and Birmans. Maine Coons and Russian Blues. There were Snowshoes and Somalis, Tonkinese and Turkish, and many, many more. Brown and beige and orange and grey and black and white and silver cats, each with gleaming eyes of emerald, or sapphire, or amber. A rainbow of precious stones.

One man carries salvation and damnation from the desert.

During those years he met his seminars,went & lectured & read, talked with human beings,paid insurance & taxes;but his mind was not on it. his mind was elsewheresin an area where the soul not talks but sings& where foes are attacked with axes.

Time is truly apathetic to the many to whom a little empathy would mean so much.~"Disarming (Reign of Blood #2)

The man is a monster. The worst I have ever seen, in fact, since I last looked in the mirror. The truth? I am rotting too. I am buried alive, and already rotting. If I was not such a coward I would kill myself, but I am, and so I must content myself with killing others in the hope that one day, if I can only wade deep enough in blood, I will come out clean.

Why do I feel like this is our destiny. There must be a reason why we have become our characters.

The young man shivered. He rolled the stock themes of fantasy over in his mind: cars and stockbrokers and commuters, housewives and police, agony columns and commercials for soap, income tax and cheap restaurants, magazines and credit cards and streetlights and computers... 'It is escapism, true,' he said, aloud. 'But is not the highest impulse in mankind the urge toward freedom, the drive to escape?

Fight for faith, and hope will be born.

We're living in momentous times, Garion. The events of a thousand years and more have all focused on these very days. The world, I'm told, is like that. Centuries pass when nothing happens, and then in a few short years events of such tremendous importance take place that the world is never the same again." I think that if I had my choice, I'd prefer one of those quiet centuries," Garion said glumly. Oh, no," Silk said, his lips drawing back in a ferretlike grin. "Now's the time to be alive - to see it all happen, to be a part of it. That makes the blood race, and each breath is an adventure.

Sometimes thought Liir-his first thought in weeks and weeks-sometimes I hate this marvelous land of ours. It's so much like home, and then it holds out on you.

While I have the floor, here's a question that's been bothering me for some time. Why do so few writers of heroic or epic fantasy ever deal with the fundamental quandary of their novels . . . that so many of them take place in cultures that are rigid, hierarchical, stratified, and in essence oppressive? What is so appealing about feudalism, that so many free citizens of an educated commonwealth like ours love reading about and picturing life under hereditary

Together we can take this world, and all those whose knees have never felt the sting of the earth will bow to us

A story from beginning to end that might entertain, teach, or simply bore your listener. It's all in the delivery, my dear."He got a smug look on his face as he scooted his posterior deeper into the chair and took his pipe between his teeth. "I'm just better at it than most.

The church preach so much about power in the kingdom of God but we don't talk about wisdom. Everybody goes for power forgeting that power without wisdom can be disastrous.

If there’s a zeppelin, it’s alternate history. If there’s a rocketship, it’s science fiction. If there are swords and/or horses, it’s fantasy. A book with swords and horses in it can be turned into science fiction by adding a rocketship to the mix. If a book has a rocketship in it, the only thing that can turn it back into fantasy is the Holy Grail.

Language is something you inherit, it's never just you doing the talking, which helps when you're pretending.

If you go chasing your freedom your fate will only follow you there and force you back.

The sad thing about miracles is that they’re unique. They can’t be explained, or shared, or duplicated. And they absolutely cannot be captured and made to perform on demand. If that day ever came, our world would die for lack of wonder.

Two hundred generations of European Jews. All gone, just as if they'd never been. It was the first time it was really real for me--just as if I were standing at the top of a ladder and somebody yanked the ladder away--and I was still standing there, only now it was *possible* to fall, because all my connections had been cut away, and there I was looking down into empty space, thinking about how I'd come this close to just not existing at all.

I think I found your vampire,” Andrew said, except this time he wasn’t so amused.However, Gabriella was, her smile huge as she laughed, the sound a trill in the densely packed cold air.“You think this is funny?” The words came out surly, but Andrew couldn’t stop his lips from twitching over her amusement.“I thought they’d be bigger,” she said, stifling another round of giggles. “Are you okay?”“Just a flesh wound.

a true leader must be able to command with an iron fist, not just a humble heart.

He’s drowning, suffocating under the weight of my darkness and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

~:.*.:~~:.*.:~May the magic always brighten your world~:.*.:~~:.*.:~

Secrets are dark things. They don’t exist in the light. Theyglow faintly in forgotten corners, in mysterious mind-nooks,in lost memory maps. Secrets are the shadows of the soul.

Goons were the lowest sort of homunculi, only superior to zombies.

I can be a gentleman off and on. When the urge hits me. - Tran

Kumquats?I've had a few.But then again, tofu dementia.

Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

One man's fantasy is another man's reality!

Some stories need to be told time and again. Every generation forgets. Every child learns anew.

Every island to a child is a treasure island.

I wish this world had none of it. That we were all bound only by the matter around us and the dreams in our hearts. But it does, and we are all slave to it, unless we give the challenge. What is the point of possessing the power you have if not to use it for the greatest good you hold so dear? And why do you think that goodness exists in doing nothing, rather than trying something you’re uncertain of?

It didn’t feel like the Fates were looking over me that day. When I glanced up, I couldn’t see destiny’s threads tangling in the sky like the silk of a giant spider’s web, woven by three pairs of gnarled, arthritic hands. All I saw was blue – the timeless blue of an empty sky, and the restless blue of a rough ocean.

Instead she looked very hard at the woman's chin. On it was a single white hair - visible even in the heavy dusk - that closely resembled a piece of thread hanging off a scrap of fabric. The woman forgot about Rusty for a moment. "I call her Hephzibah," she said with pride. "It's taken years for her to grow.

But for a society build on exploitation, there is no greater threat than having no one left to oppress.

If a wish turns to hope, it’s worth chasing. (Lucas Warbuck: Darkotika - Book 2)

Rupert: "... At this rate, somebody is bound to upset the Warlock once too often, and we'll end up with a Court full of bemused looking toads.""He wouldn't dare use his magic here," said the Champion."Don't bet on it," said Rupert. "The High Warlock has all the practicality and self-preservation instincts of a depressed lemming.

But—" yelped Twizbang, “Greydor will eat us!

Into the air, over the valleys, under the stars, above a river, a pond, a road, flew Cecy. Invisible as new spring winds, fresh as the breath of clover rising from twilight fields, she flew.

she is born in the breath of a cloud

First of all, you're dead. Secondly, I cut off your head. Thirdly... yes, I know that rhymed, you really don't have to tell me.

Freud wrote that love involves the undervaluation of reality and the overvaluation of the desired object. While the correct valuation of a person is an odd, if not impossible idea, we might say Freud meant something like this: for various reasons, many of them masochistic, we become involved with others who cannot possibly give what we ask for; we can wait as long as we wish, but they do not have it, and one day, if we bear to abandon our fantasy and see clearly, we might face reality straight on. We will then look elsewhere for fulfillment, to a place where our needs can, in fact, be satisfied.

Once upon a time there was war, and starvation, and death. Once upon a time we would kill our brothers and sisters, fearing for our own lives. Once upon a time the characters turned from us, and we wept. Now we do not war, nor do we fear, nor do we weep. We Redact.

When did you suddenly become Mister Maturity?

it was like staring at a whitewashed wall, but without all the emotion

Those who believe in it are the ones who find it.

I know, I know," Moore said. "Mad beliefs like that, eh? Must be some metaphor, right? Must mean something else?" Shook his head. "What an awfully arrogant thing. What if faiths are exactly what they are? And mean exactly what they say?" "Stop trying to make sense of it and just listen," Dane said."And what," Moore said, "if a large part of the reason they're so tenacious is that they're perfectly accurate?

Everyone writes the book he or she loves to read. Great authors write the books others love to read.

Even with fasting and prayers you still need wisdom. At the root of every great accomplishment is wisdom. In all your getting get wisdom first.

You can't be in my world...You live in this one.

Right,' Thomas said. 'Where are we headed?''To where they treat me like royalty,' I said.'We're going to Burger King?'I rubbed the heel of my hand against my forehead and spelled fratricide in a subvocal mutter, but I had to spell out temporary insanity and justifiable homicide, too, before I calmed down enough to speak politely. 'Just take a left and drive. Please.''Well,' Thomas said, grinning, 'since you said 'please'- Thomas Raith & Harry Dresden, Small Favor, Jim Butcher

She imagined him leaning against the shuttle, entertaining thoughts of scolding her for dressing like a ragged commoner. Never mind that her present outfit was light years ahead in comfort.(Actually, he’s wishing he had been less critical of you earlier. He feels bad that you won’t acknowledge his presence, and he blames himself.)(Quit it, Ian. I’m not going to feel sorry for him.)She caught her protector’s shrewd grin, highlighted by the fire’s glow. (You already do, Queenie.)(This talent of yours is really annoying.)He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “That’s not what you thought earlier when you wanted to get ahold of Efren.” “One tiny rosebud in a handful of thorns,” she retorted.