Fantasy Quotes - Page 8

The irony of life is we always compare our fantasies with reality, rather than accepting the reality as is and transforming it into a paradise....

I remember so many things [. . .] The problem is, only half of them are true . . . and the half which is true keeps changing places with the half which is false.

I’ve told you that I’m a tricksy wight, and I am, my sweet. But there are those in the Seelie Court who would make me seem a very perfect knight.

...reclusiveness itself may be a kind of violence. It leaves an abyss for us to throw our fantasies into.

There is nothing else in magic but the wild thought of the bird as it casts itself into the void. There is no creature upon the earth with such potential for magic. Even the least of them may fly straight out of this world and come by chance to the Other Lands. Where does the wind come from that blows upon your face, that fans the pages of your book? Where the harum-scarum magic of small wild creatures meets the magic of Man, where the language of the wind and the rain and the trees can be understood, there we will find the Raven King.

My Ona Elena once told me something important," Adam said, hesitant now that the force of Levec's anger had deserted him. "Happiness is like a seed." Before Levec could speak, Adam lifted a hand. "She said that anger and hatred and love are like seeds as well. All the things we feel that endure, are.""And we are?""Dirt," Adam replied."I might agree with that statement, but I'm certain you intend to go elsewhere with it.""We are earth. But we are like different types of earth, in different climates. Not all seeds that fall from a tree take root. Not all things that take root survive. We cannot be given happiness. Only the seed of it. We might not recognize the seed," he added. "Because we can't see the tree it might become. We are surrounded by trees, and the seeds in our hands looks nothing like them."For some, the earth is damp and fertile, and all seeds take root. But for others, the earth is hard, and water scarce. Elena believed that no man--or woman--starts life as a desert. But without trees, any many or woman can become one." - Adam

Lost race?” The Prince studied Orayna, trying to see something inhuman in her. “Why have I never heard of these ‘Rathiuel’?”t“Because,” Azaroth rapped his knuckles on the Prince’s skull, “you do not care to read.

The attraction of reading is that it allows you to live, for a few hours, as someone else—grants you access to their head, their thoughts, their secrets.

Beware a kiss, he told her. Kisses are powerful things. You expose part of your soul.

People can always say I don't look impressive enough, but they can't argue over how strong I am once I punch them in the face.

You don’t even know me, or what I am capable of, boy.

she was like the merlin in pursuit of its airborne quarry, perhaps the snow bunting or a small meadow pipit; the avian prey is nimble but so is the predatory merlin with its inexhaustible stamina and unparalleled agility – round and round it chases the pipit, and the two flying at speeds almost impossible for the observer to follow.

Lucille, please make them go away!” she moaned, her voice muffled.t“Do you think I am a divine being sent from the celestial realm to guard you from the harsh punishment of rousing from your slumber?” t“Is that a yes?”t“I am surrounded by idiots.

To be inspired is great, but to inspire is an honor.

The combination of razor-sharp wit (completely real) and his credentials (completely fake) had won them over in the end.

He was like nothing she’d ever known.Marcii hoped she would come to know him, for he was all she could ever have asked for and more.

It‘s quite simple, actually.”‖ He thought of a way to explain things to his friend in a language that Dez could understand. “Imagine that Khevala‘s a girl you fancy…”‖“Oh, now that I do understand!”‖“But she‘s put you in the friend zone,”‖ he resumed, unable to stop a little smirk from appearing on his face. “With no benefits of any kind, besides.”‖ The smirk turned into a dry chuckle as he watched the disappointed look that his explanation had put on Dez‘s face. “Only friends, Dez, that‘s it. You can go out with her, enjoy her company all you like, but you‘ll always have to keep your hands to yourself.”‖“I can look but I can‘t touch? Not even a little kiss, every now and then?”‖

The truth is there isn’t anything to me at all. All I know is that I can’t sleep well, I can’t dream well and I’m quite in love with you. That’s all there is to me. My greatest feature is my admiration for you. I know it’s not healthy. Like my insomnia. Like my dreamless nights. You make living alright. My nightmares come when I think of a night without Valeria. That’s when I realise you’re dead. That’s when I remember you’ve been gone for years. That’s when I remember I’m awake. And I wait for this dream called Life to leave me to my peace once and for all and forever.

I fall off horses," he explained to Loghain with a sickly grin. "It's this thing I do.

The dragon turned on the children and unicorns, his mouth open. For a brief moment, they could see his eyes change from blue to a deep red, like coals in a fire. It was almost as if another, fiercer dragon looked at them through Zebedia’s eyes.

I heard ‘naked’ and ‘full of hot air.’ I try not to let that be my first impression of anyone.

I think the measure of advancement depends on where you are stood and from what distance you look. A thousand years ago, we farmed the fields, built towns and defended our land with swords and spears. It is little different now, save for the number of people we have to protect. We still kill with a sharp edge or point of metal, blood runs red still, sons ride off to war and parents grieve. If you look at the Empire in its whole, then it is peaceful. If you look closely, you will see the small wars, the bandits and rebellions. Look more closely still and you’ll see the petty crimes, the struggle to survive, the rich bleeding the poor. Even the soil can turn against its farmers, yielding few crops. Or the weather, a late frost killing the early crops. There is strife and conflict everywhere in the Empire. Everywhere you find men, you find conflict.

Back in the "leather and lace" eighties, I was the fantasy editor for a publishing company in New York City. It was a great time to be young and footloose on the streets of Manhattan—punk rock and folk music were everywhere; Blondie, the Eurythmics, Cyndi Lauper, and Prince were all strutting their stuff on the newly created MTV; and the eighties' sense of style meant I could wear my scruffy black leather into the office without turning too many heads. The fantasy field was growing by leaps and bounds, and I was right in the middle of it, working with authors I'd worshiped as a teen, and finding new ones to encourage and publish.

Dad looked more sheepish than I had ever seen him look in his life. It made him appear younger.“A scent. Your mother’s shampoo.

You are my reality, fantasy, daydream, fairytale, music, more than the princess in Cinderella; you are much more than a traditional myth.

Rough palms cradled my face while my fingers gripped the pillow on either side of his. Lips, teeth, tongue, mingled together. I ate him up and didn’t let go until I had to come up for air.

You or I might think that at least one would show courage and put up a fight. But neither you nor I have suffered as they, and even we have born witness in silence to lesser ills under less dire threat. Yet, in the face of evil, to sit silent is an even greater evil. Complacency is ever the enabler of darkest deeds;

and their days make no story for they were good and joyful and without event

... all sorts of wonderful things got washed up on the beach – crates of clothes and cutlery and children’s toys, boxes of engine parts and television screens and electrical wires like tangled snakes in the water. I found them fascinating, like relics from a distant time, even though I knew it was us who lived in the past.

My sweet lemming,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and sending glorious spirals of pleasure ping-ponging throughout her body. “You’ve been quiet and that worries me.” “Why?” she asked, trailing her hand down his banded forearm to entwine her fingers within his.“Because that means you’re thinking, and a thinking woman is usually something to fear.

People weren't just angry about it. They were still afraid. Fear is a powerful, often irrational emotion, and mass fear... has the power to shake any society to its core. As long as the world remembered, they would live in fear of all cryptids-- regardless of whether or not any individual among us was truly dangerous.Of course, not everyone supported stripping cryptids of all right. But dissenters were few among a dangerous and violent many, and most ignored the problem. Submission was the only solution they could conceive of to fix my problem. But with the imprint of Clyde's fist still throbbing in my stomach I was less interested in fixing a problem than in becoming one.

You never know what you're gonna find when you look under those covers - grandma or the wolf.

War is an infidel; it holds no loyalties, neither to king nor countryman. She is a whore, selling herself to the highest bidder. Victory is bought in blood and steel.

Splendor was the decree of the day.

Been lickin’ peanut-butter spoons? Maybe I should call you butterfingers. It has a better ring than Hella Shella. - Tran'Answer my question, Tran. Right now. Or I show you just what these fingers'--I wiggled my fingers under his nose-- 'can really do.' I took a step closer, erasing the distance between us. 'And let me tell you, emo boy, you are not going to like it. Let’s just say, that peanut butter I ate, freshly made.' I licked my lips with care. 'I’m actually quite skilled when it comes to crushing nuts.' - Shella

Zakath stared at the floor. 'I suddenly feel very helpless,' he admitted, 'and I don't like the feeling. I've been rather effectively dethroned, you know. This morning I was the Emperor of the largest nation on earth; this afternoon, I'm going to be a vagabond.'You might find it refreshing,' Silk told him lightly.Shut up, Kheldar,' Zakath said almost absently. He looked back at Polgara. 'You know something rather peculiar?'What's that?'Even if I hadn't given my word, I'd still have to go to Kell. It's almost like a compulsion. I feel as if I'm being driven, and my driver is a blindfolded girl who's hardly more than a child.'There are rewards,' she told him.Such as what?'Who knows? Happiness, perhaps.'He laughed ironically. 'Happiness has never been a driving ambition of mine, Lady Polgara, not for a long time now.'You may have to accept it anyway,' She smiled. 'We aren't allowed to choose our rewards any more than we are our tasks. Those decisions are made for us.

It was as if I had been following a narrow trail, and had suddenly realized that at any time I could leave it and strike out cross-country.

Twisted twins twinkling thick as thiefs.

The monster was still submerged deep inside of me.

The last image I registered was Ethan and my hand – linked, bound and unbreakable.

She despised weakness, especially her own. She'd seared most of heremotional needs with the white-hit iron of self-reliance andindependence years before.~Angels Unaware

She has this passion to learn everything she can about life, and it is so amazing to see everything through her eyes. She’s guarded in a way that even she can’t explain, but she is embracing this life and giving it all. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.

Forbidden fruit makes a wonderful wine." Vazco gave him a leading look. "But leaves a hell of a headache.

Just because it's imaginary, doesn't mean it's not real.

I have the mind of Christ. The best life you could ever live is the one that your creator destined you for. The one He made you for. He has given us everything we need ......... to become like Him. To reach to your potentials. Worship Him in spirit and in truth.

Jamal stared at the dog in his arms. "Why I am I holding a dog full of angels?

It's kind of strange...All these so-called myths and fables. Everyone seems to have the same ones. They cross cultures and continents. Everyone has their own versions of unicorns, witches, even the Fates. Now we know why. Because they're real.

Real life this fdar had taught me that in the adult world, fate was chaotic and uncertain. Guidelines for success were arbitrary. But in the world of D&D, at least there was a rule book... By role-playing, we were in control, and our characters... wandered through places of danger, their destinies, ostensibly, within our grasp.

I closed my eyes and dived into foreign water.

You desire me. I can scent it on the wind.” He drew in a breath and licked his lips. “I have been waiting for your courage to bring you to me, but I have grown tired of our little game.

Duty over fear.

I know you may feel so far that circumstances have directed your path, but right now I want you to know that you do have a choice.

A serious adult story must be true to something in life. Since marvel tales cannot be true to the events of life, they must shift their emphasis towards something to which they can be true; namely, certain wistful or restless moods of the human spirit, wherein it seeks to weave gossamer ladders of escape from the galling tyranny of time, space, and natural law.

You speak good words, child, but sometimes what lies within is much darker. The line between justice and revenge is then. Justice is order; revenge is chaos. If revenge is your innermost desire, you will be destroyed upon entering into the hall

How dare you come into my home? And hurt my family? I ought to tear your throat out right here, right now!

Love doesn't have a calendar

Wishes of one's old life wither and shrivel like old leaves if they are not replaced with new wishes when the world changes. And the world always changes. Wishes get slimy, and their colors fade, and soon they are just mud, like all the rest of the mud, and not wishes at all, but regrets. The trouble is, not everyone can tell when they ought to launder their wishes. Even when one finds oneself in Fairyland and not at home at all, it is not always so easy to remember to catch the world in it's changing and change with it.

With enough 'ifs' we could put Paris in a bottle.

The flames of the fire leapt up and surrounded her, consuming her, becoming her. Heat filled and flushed her, breaking the bottle and she soared up and up. She came to stand in a sun's center. But that even faded and she rode pillion with Emmerich as he crossed the field on his black battle charger, her hands gripping his sides. The edges of his chain-mail bit into her skin and she could hear his labored breath. She could smell his particular scent: horse and leather, sweat and musk. Men roared like the ocean and rushed like waves to slam against the opposing force meeting them outside the walls.

So what did you do, drug me, stuff me in the trunk, then dump me like a sacrificial offering into that vampire’s coffin? - Shella