Fantasy Quotes

Take some advice from an old farmer. You’re in business now. Take the money. You’d be amazed at how many don’t want to pay.

Now there was great rejoicing at the rumor of Alderic's quest, for all folk knew that he was a cautious man, and they deemed that he would succeed and enrich the world, and they rubbed their hands in the cities at the thought of largesse; and there was joy among all men in Alderic's country, except perchance among the lenders of money, who feared they would soon be paid. And there was rejoicing also because men hoped that when the Gibbelins were robbed of their hoard, they would shatter their high-built bridge and break the golden chains that bound them to the world, and drift back, they and their tower, to the moon, from which they had come and to which they rightly belonged. There was little love for the Gibbelins, though all men envied their hoard.("The Hoard Of The Gibbelins")

Because a sound tree doesn't have bad roots, Amara. No enterprise of greatnessbegins with treachery, with lying to the people who trust and love you

Don't forget - no one else sees the world the way you do, so no one else can tell the stories that you have to tell.

That's half of your trouble," muttered the crocodile. "You believe everything's true.""That's because everything is," replied Mr. Bacchus.

The combined odors of Cass's subtle aftershave and the disgusting reek of Nic are overpowering. I wonder if Cass will keel over and I'll have to perform CPR. This speculation should not feel so much like a fantasy.

I began composing the next poem, the one that was to be written next. Not the last poem of those I had read, but the poem written in the head of someone who may never have existed but who had certainly written another poem nonetheless, and just never had the chance to commit it to ink and the page.

The story of Terisa and Geraden began very much like a fable. She was a princess in a high tower. He was a hero come to rescue her. She was the only daughter of wealth and power. He was the seventh son of the lord of the seventh Care. She was beautiful from the auburn hair that crowned her head to the tips of her white toes. He was handsome and courageous. She was held prisoner by enchantment. He was a fearless breaker of enchantments.As in all the fables, they were made for each other.

As for peace, it was never free and laws were made to be broken. Peacemaker or lawbreaker, someone, somewhere always paid the price no matter what side of the words they were on.

There is no right or wrong, only what we believe is more right or more wrong

Part of the appeal of the fantastic is taking ridiculous ideas very seriously and pretending they're not absurd.

What they teach you as history is mythology, and true mythology is far from fantasy - every kind reveals true fragments of our real history. A bulk of our real history can be found in Egyptian and Greek mythology. Yes, myths reveal to us worlds of other dimensions that make up our true reality. History books teach us that the minds of the past operated on the same frequency, dimension, or level of consciousness as we do now. Not true at all.

I am living on the moon, I told myself, I have little house all by myself on the moon.

My love...you were insolent to a dragon? Please tell me that I misheard you just now.

Tolkien came to regard the tale of Beren and Tinuviel as 'the first example of the motive (to become dominant in Hobbits) that the great policies of world history, "the wheels of the world", are often turned not by the Lords and Governors, even gods, but by the seemingly unknown and weak'. Such a worldview is inherent in the fairy-tale (and Christian) idea of the happy ending in which the dispossessed are restored to joy; but perhaps Tolkien was also struck by the way it had been borne out in the Great War, when ordinary people stepped out of ordinary lives to carry the fate of nations.

He had heard many of his customers talking about 'repetitive strain injury' over the years and he was sure that, if he was capable, he too would suffer this - especially with the industrial tooling he carried around everywhere that he went.

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

That’s the beauty of magic. You can get it no matter how rich or poor you are.

When the Lilliputian family of the Pequenos migrated to Gulliver’s land of the Man Mountains, they expected to encounter many strange issues while settling in. What Mrs Pequenos didn’t anticipate was her daughter’s announcement that she was in love with a Man Mountain boy and was going to get married.

The Light shines brightest, when the world is at its darkest.

Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.― Stephen King, The Shining

It was hope that brought me love.

Know, Goodwife, that Faerie is shaped by storytellers. Their fantasies, their dreams give my realm life. We were dying, all of us, from the smallest nixie to highborn sidhe, for want of a storyteller.

Freydolf worried that the stone might have been [stolen], but he finally found it safe and sound in one of the many drawers that were better for losing things than organizing them.

Surrealism, then, neither aims to subvert realism, as does the fantastic, nor does it try to transcend it. It looks for different means by which to explore reality itself.

I fear I am beyond your comprehension. - Gandalf the White

Yes, 1960’s North American sitcoms have led me to study the United States 1920’s and 1930’s crime bosses— QET Jenkins

I can see time," whispered Mogget, so softly that his words were lost.

Shawn slowly climbed the old wooden stairs, listening to the low creak that sounded from his footsteps. He hoped the wood wouldn’t collapse beneath him. But the stairs held strong and a moment later he joined his friend in the kitchen of the old house, a wave of suffocating humidity washing over them as they stepped deeper into its secrets.

There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind.

The only person in my head is me.Tibe is not the same. The crown has changed him, as you feared it would.The fire is in him, the fire that will burn all the world.And it is in your son, in the prince who will never change his blood and will never sit a throne. The only person in my head is me. The only person who has not changed is you. You are still the little girl in a dusty room, forgotten, unwanted, out of place. You are the queen of everything, mother to a beautiful son, wife to a king who loves you, and still you cannot find it in yourself to smile. Still you make nothing. Still you are empty. The only person in your head is you. And she is no one of any importance. She is nothing

You would have only seen a skittish young deer jumping through the forest, having no idea it was a little girl.

Sometimes she was Aurora. Confident. Clever. Cultured.Sometimes she was Rora. Afraid. Alone. Ashamed.And more and more, she was Roar -- bold, brash, and increasingly baffled by the situation in which she found herself. And sometimes she was none of them, lost and adrift somewhere in between, like the wildlands between Stormling cities.

A lot of people pray for power, house, financial breakthrough, wealth etc. But only few ask God for wisdom. There are so many great power pack man and women of God who lack wisdom.

With a tremendous effort, Areop-Enap opened all its eyes. " I am sorry to leave you alone and defenseless."Perenelle sealed the spider Elder into the huge cocoon of web, then turned and strode across the room. The tiniest breeze swept the floor clean before her. " I am Perenelle Flamel, the Sorceress,"she said aloud, unsure whether Aerop-Enap could hear her. "And I am never defenseless.

Struck by lightning! Struck by lightning!

I recall my life every day. I recall my sins and my acts of purity. I remind myself I was never a religious man. I remind myself that I have been dead for half of forever. I remind myself of nothing. I move along to the next minute. Next day. Next year. The earth doesn’t change so much anymore. It doesn’t change so quickly. With humans, the earth had to keep changing. But you can only replace a dying thing so many times before someone notices. There haven’t been humans for years. Maybe a decade. Maybe more. I find myself loving their absence. The absence of humanity is the absence of violence. I love this peace. But then I remember my bones. My mind and my memories. I remember I’m human. I am the thing I detest. The creature that haunts my steps. It’s my shadow I see watching me. It’s my reflection in the water. I keep remembering. I live in fear. But still, I walk on.

You’re not doing a good job of selling me this dumb fantasy. I’m not climbing into the back of your van if I have to be Robin. I’m Batman. That’s how these things work.

The world isn’t big enough for all of us.

Holy sea turtles!" - Arabella Valli, The Equinox (Book Two of the Summer Solstice Series)

What are you doing?” Egnatious asked, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Gabriella do a flip.Firen mimicked Gabriella and turned to Egnatious. “Fun times. Go with it.” She didn’t even crack a smile, though her body language said she was laughing on the inside.Instead of following their act, Egnatious simply dove for an outcrop just as it began moving away. He nearly lost his balance, but Firen caught his flailing arms.“Are you having a seizure or something?” she jested, displaying a rare vein of humor.Egnatious sent her a queasy glare.

as you know that prior to Search Enggine (google, yahoo, bing etc) our knowledge comes from books. and we often underestimate the cover of the book before reading it. where the universe and everything in it were all neatly recorded in the book .. but unfortunately, lately reduced book reader interest. and tonight I say that the inspiration of the book far more powerful than anything .. not even a lot of writers who took also into his imagination. yes, I started to read

Most tales carry a kernel of truth, else they're soon forgotten.

Let us consider Elfland as a great national park, a vast and beautiful place where a person goes by himself, on foot, to get in touch with reality in a special, private, profound fashion. But what happens when it is considered merely as a place to "get away to"?Well, you know what has happened to Yosemite. Everybody comes, not with an ax and a box of matches, but in a trailer with a motorbike on the back and a motorboat on top and a butane stove, five aluminum folding chairs, and a transistor radio on the inside. They arrive totally encapsulated in a secondhand reality. And then they move on to Yellowstone, and it's just the same there, all trailers and transistors. They go from park to park, but they never really go anywhere; except when one of them who thinks that even the wildlife isn't real gets chewed up by a genuine, firsthand bear.The same sort of thing seems to be happening to Elfland, lately.

I suggest you leave now, or you’ll be tied down and gagged until the end of this meeting.”“Tie us down?”“And gag you,” Joseph cheerfully reminded them.

I must find you. So I travel to the depths of hell and conquer perverse monsters and repulsive demons and the deceitful vicious devil himself to find the truth.

Now, where had I heard drinking and brawling before? Oh right, Ashley’s father. Well, I wasn’t doing that again.

Death. It was something I had to think about once. Weird, right? Strange that death was ever an inevitable end, but it wasn’t anymore. Not really. I eluded it. Tricked it. It was an odd concept—the world aged, moved forward, yet I . . . didn’t.

People search in vain forever to find what we've got. I don't know shit about anything, Jenna, and I might be inexperienced, but I know you'll never love anyone like you love me.''I won't she,' she whispered.'And yet you can leave me so easily for a baby you don't have and a husband you've never met. I'm here, I'm real, and I just lost to a goddamn fantasy. I must've never really had you at all.

Never scheme with a conniving dragon!

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.

The strangest thing about demons is that they come to love you. As much as they try to murder the very core of you when you first meet, they become your closest companions. I never asked for this devil on my shoulder. But my eyes are burning and I’m not alone. If you see a red gaze at midheaven, look away. It’s exactly as they say: hell is a hungry place.

Disclosures of childhood sexual abuse have frequently been discredited through the diagnosis of hysteria. In this view, women/female children were seen either as culpable seducers who were not really damaged by the sex abuse or as dramatic fantasizers projecting their own incestuous wishes onto the father. I will argue that this view pervades the false-memory movement and can be found, for example, in Gardner's work (1992).

It's been a pleasure pleasing you.

There is something to be said for the night. The darkness holds a sense of promise, as if anything could happen. Maybe something good, like a handsome stranger or something with snarling teeth that whispers pretty things as it eats you. Thus, the night is a test. A test of fear and the sweet promise of pain.

I think people should take mythology much more seriously, because it tells us an awful lot about the history of the human race. We tend to dismiss it as 'fairy tales,' when it isn't. Fairy tales in themselves are about fundamentals of human nature. And they keep being reinvented in different ways. Fantasy acknowledges that, whereas a lot of modern literature is trying to distance itself from 'story,' never mind anything else. Which is why a lot of books are read by the critics, then people buy them, put them on their shelves, and don't really read them much, because they're not very interesting!

Even the best-laid plans turn to hell when exposed to reality.

The tales of Elfland do not stand or fall on their actuality but on their truthfulness, their speaking to the human condition, the longings we all have for the Faerie Other.

When we are no longer children we are already dead

I will never understand why you Humans weren’t designed to recycle your body’s water after filtering waste. It’s just so much more efficient.