Fantasy Quotes - Page 2

The Ferryman will transport us across the moat,” Chris informed. “Yeah. This seems legit,” Gabriella quipped as Chris helped her onto the boat. Andrew followed behind.“Are you sure this isn’t a trick?” Egnatious asked.Again, uncertainty filtered into Chris’s blue eyes, but he nodded anyway. “This is the only way.

Staying relaxed was helping him cope with the drug induced juddering vision that could be best described as being like a Hitchcockian visual effect operated by a hyperactive squirrel that shook the whole universe closer and farther away. If you went with it, it was quite pleasant, as long as you didn't introduce any lateral movement like turning your head or the car. This caused the universe to try and slide away from underneath you. The other side effect was the constant feeling you ought to try to twist your head off, in a good way.

It wouldn't do to go mixing up the present and the past, and cutting bits out of one to fit into the other.

People lose a lot of time being afraid... People lose a lot of time in hating others, and there's no fun in it at all.

I still need you. Killer, boyfriend, friend, whatever…I need you in my life…if for nothing else, to show me that it’s OK to be broken. It’s OK for things not to be OK.

With a blade at your throat, a well-connected uncle or a wealthy mother could not save you. Only you could save yourself.

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

I just think the world ought to be more sort of organized.''That's just fantasy,' said Twoflower.'I know. That's the trouble.' Rincewind sighed again.

I can't imagine why knowledge, truth and love should be so much of a secret

Verne frowned. “Calm down. Don’t exert yourself in your condition.”tSalen looked at Verne in amazement. “Don’t exert --! My dear woman, we are all about to die! I don’t think it damn well matters if I shit my pants at this point --

I know you’re scared, Letti, but sweetheart…you haven’t seen anything yet. You’ve not known true fear...

The rain landed on my skin with a barely audible patter and changed the tempo of its repetitive dance, letting the wind change its course and angle. The cold soon seeped through my dress and into my bones. An iris from my garland fell in my lap.

fantasy gives meaning to the suffering.

It was as if he had two faces, one of utmost calm, one of furious action; and he wore both with ease. He was like the animal whose face he wore, able to sit in silence for hours, without moving a muscle, then flying like a raging storm into battle, returning again to perfect calm when the fight was over.

Despite their exhaustion and worries, Miner and Ennek made love that night, tracing fingers and tongues over one another's marks and scars. Their bodies were like books, Ennek thought, and their stories could be read inch by inch. He hoped fervently for happy endings.

I crossed oceans for you,Turned over every rock,Climbed the highest mountains,Holding on to the words you said,Reliving your touch inside my head,The taste of you on the tip of my tongue,Only to be left with you as only a fantasy inside my head.

So fine a medicine is the will to action.

David tells me that fairies never say 'We feel happy': what they say is, 'We feel dancey'.

I dropped my dress to the floor and sat on the sofa with renewed determination. This man was going to have sex with me whether he liked it or not.

Death is unstoppable. One must face it as a fact of life

First contact comes not by hand of man, but by metal of machine.

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

..There were two undeniable truths in the Realms: It was very easy to overestimate a drow and even easier to underestimate a dwarf.

So – I am n-nothing more than – than a bloody job?! On top of not knowing why you must look after me – you only jumped at the chance to help me because your – that V-Vampire thought you couldn’t?! What are you, some – some child?!”“I am no child, human!”“Oh I would not have thought so,” she breathed condescendingly sending his blood to boil despite the ring, “if it were not for the fact that only children react so wondrously juvenile when faced with such a choice! You bargain my life over a show of bravado! And where is your brother, Christian?! He has not been here to see your brilliant work as my watcher, has he?!

We would learn as much as we could, be as honourable as we could, be as courageous as we could, and be as happy as we could.

Each of the dancers took a partner, the living with the dead, each to each. Bod reached out his hand and found himself touching fingers with, and gazing into the grey eyes of, the lady in the cobweb dress. She smiled at him.“Hello, Bod,” she said.“Hello,” he said, as he danced with her. “I don’t know your name.”“Names aren’t really important,” she said.“I love your horse. He’s so big! I never knew horses could be that big.”“He is gentle enough to bear the mightiest of you away on his broad back, and strong enough for the smallest of you as well.”“Can I ride him?” asked Bod.“One day,” she told him, and her cobweb skirts shimmered. “One day. Everybody does.”“Promise?”I promise.

I didn’t ask for your help,” I muttered, too exhausted to properly argue. “So fuck you.”An alarm bell went off in my head and I bit back a sigh. I swore I sensed the mischievous grin that inevitably crossed his lips.“I already did you.”It was going to be a long drive.

All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Erol and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.

I want to take my time with you - to learn … every inch of you. And this apartment has very, very thin walls. I don’t want to have an audience” he added as he leaned down again, brushing his mouth over the cut at the base of her throat, “when I make you moan, Aelin.

Honesty can sometimes be so brutal to take in. It's usual to get so drowned in perceived idealism that you can't seem to separate it from honest reality. If, and when, you can separate the two, the gaiety of fantasy is destroyed

Are you trying to seduce me or trick me?

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....

Nice girl. Wears too much makeup.""Most chicks hate her.""Most chicks wish they looked like her. And they wish they had her money and boyfriend."I stop and regard her in disgust. "Burro Face?""Oh, please, Alex. Colin Adams is cute, he's the captain of the football team and Fairfield's hero. You're like Danny Zuko in Grease. You smoke, you're in a gang, and you've dated the hottest bad girls around. Brittany is like Sandy ... a Sandy who'll never show up to school in a black leather jacket with a ciggie hangin' from her mouth. Give up the fantasy.

Like wine, Provençal magic had its own distinctive terroir. It was rich and chaotic and romantic. It was a night-magic, confabulated out of moons and silver, wine and blood, knights and fairies, wind and rivers and forests. It concerned itself with good and evil but also with the vast intermediate realm in between, the realm of mischief.

Everyone thinks that courage is about facing death without flinching. But almost anyone can do that. Almost anyone can hold their breath and not scream for as long as it takes to die. True courage is about facing life without flinching. I don't mean the times when the right path is hard, but glorious at the end. I'm talking about enduring the boredom, the messiness, and the inconvenience of doing what is right.

If I could just get Broom to cooperate, we could fly, Glo said. Then we wouldn't have to worry about traffic. Harry Potter didn't have to worry about traffic.You relize Harry Potter isn't real, right? Of course, but he could be. I mean, maybe not Harry Potter, but someone like him. Who's to say?

Running her fingers on the scales, she sighs. “I wonder what its like to be a human?”“Why won’t you just go and find out?” the question startled her. She whirled around to come face to face with her evil aunt; Ursula.

Are you imperfect, romantically irrational, ridiculously fearless, and utterly illogical? You're my ideal reader, friend, partner. I'm your fan.

Why can’t I take you? Why is it so hard? You have the other half of my soul; with you I will be complete! So. Then. Why?” Crispin murmured clenching his fists. Oh, he pitied the fool who would be in his way once he returned to his domain. “Oh, what suffering will befall them in her place,” he smiled wickedly. ~Crispin~

If you surround yourself with the good and righteous, they can only raise you up. If you surround yourself with the others, they will drag you down into the doldrums of mediocrity, and they will keep you there, but only as long as you permit it.

He is indeed the true enchanter, whose spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagination and the heart.

When you fake emotion for a living, when you make your money providing fantasies for other people, tuning into their worlds and indulging them, you don’t invite someone into your world very easily.

Every day is an adventure, or it's just some thing you do. It's your choice.

And the Flatline aligned the nose of Kuang's sting with the center of the dark below. And dove. Case's sensory input warped with their velocity. His mouth filled with an aching taste of blue. His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sounds of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine spines. The spines split, bisected, split again, exponential growth under the dome of the Tessier-Ashpool ice.

This apparent hurly-burly and disorder turn out, after all, to reproduce real life with its fantastic ways more accurately than the most carefully studied out drama of manners. Every man is in himself all humanity, and if he writes what occurs to him he succeeds better than if he copies, with the help of a magnifying glass, objects placed outside of him.

There are different kinds of love you experience in life. Loving someone differently doesn't mean loving a person less than you love someone else. Love is love.

Vincent knew he was dying. A horrendous fever overwhelmed him with intolerable pain throughout many sleepless hours. It came as a result of a malaria epidemic that erupted in his hometown during early nineteenth century Europe. The disease spread so fast, physicians had to ration their stocks of quinine only to use it on patients who weren’t declared “hopeless”. Vincent was one of the unlucky ones. Speculating his time on Earth may be short, he requested spiritual guidance, even if he wasn’t a faithful man, nor did he believe in forgiveness. He appealed to the Church as a “just in case” like many other petrified atheists.

I didn't wait for Luck. I raced after it with a truck.

I never draw blood on a first date.

Fantasy is one of the soul's brighter porcelains.

You are never too old to have an active imagination.

She floated across the boundary of realms, nothing more than a human shell. She existed but only as a shadow of who she once was.

Give me a literary love that doesn't need words, that flows like silent water and speaks to the bone. There I lose myself in the fantasy.

By fire, fever, storm and sword, your blood shall suffer this bane. No peace or joy for Wintersloe's lord, till the puzzle ring is whole again

It simply isn't an adventure worth telling if there aren't any dragons.

That is why I take the younger ones, you see. You already give parts of your hearts away so easily--little fragments attached to celebrities, to hobbies, to ill-fated love affairs. Your kind have the best chance at survival.

We all know what’s coming. The winds are picking up, spiralling closer and bringing with it a great wave of destruction…none of us can hide…no matter which side you choose, you’ll be dragged into the line of fire and who’s to say, my friend, which of us will come out alive?

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

As he rose to his feet he noticed that he was neither dripping nor panting for breath as anyone would expect after being under water. His clothes were perfectly dry. He was standing by the edge of a small pool—not more than ten feet from side to side in a wood. The trees grew close together and were so leafy that he could get no glimpse of the sky. All the light was green light that came through the leaves: but there must have been a very strong sun overhead, for this green daylight was bright and warm. It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just got out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others—a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive.

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.