Fantasy Quotes - Page 7

Metal rusts, music lasts forever.

I lied to you,’ she said, hanging her head in shame, ‘more than once. In fact, I swore that my lies were truth. I can’t understand how it could have happened. It just came out of my mouth and by the time I realised what I'd done, it was too late. ‘It’s never too late to realise that you were mistaken, Sophiel.

I bow to no beast.

There seldom is a single wave. Another way to look at it is, 'when it rains, it pours.' Good luck or bad luck often followed by more of the same. Whatever path you begin, it's almost impossible to change your direction. You're sent hurtling through space, crashing through experiences decided by the first few decisions you ever made. Binary choices set against something as simple as a yes or no in your earliest stages of development. As a Future Child, that would be your primitive choices in Genus. Actions, friendships, whether to smile in one moment or frown in the next. Those are all paths that, once set upon, are entirely unchangeable. At least, that's what I was designed to think.

Death is but a dream and life is merely the daydream of death.

I noticed him right away. No, it wasn’t his lean, rugged face. Or the dark waves of shiny hair that hung just a little too long on his forehead. It wasn’t the slim, collarless biker jacket he wore, hugging his lean shoulders. It was the way he stood. The confident way he waited in the cafeteria line to get a slice of pizza. He didn’t saunter. He didn’t amble. He stood at the center, and let the other people buzz around him. His stance was straight and sure.

A grim expression came over Syah’s face. “The colt you speak of lost its mother during a storm. If this stallion was that colt, it is not just wild, it is insane. That horse will break your bones.” “And that will be a worthy end, a prince struck down by such a noble steed.”Fasime pushed himself off the support of the fence, but Oman grabbed his arm.“It’s not worth it, Brother.”“I can tame him.” “What will we tell Mother and Father if he kills you?” Oman questioned.“Tell them I gave my life with pride. Do not punish him if he kills me. Release him back into the wild, and my spirit will ride him into the mist.

Jadan's kiss on my forehead wasn't that big of a deal, something that a boy would have done at a junior high dance or how a friend would say goodbye before a long trip. But it felt like more. It seemed like he wanted more." ---Jennifer Mills

I was drowning, but all I needed to do was breathe.

The age of lost innocence varies for each person. Some lose it when they learn that their childhood fantasies are merely myth, while others lose theirs due to trauma. As adults, we often look down our noses at those who manage to retain their innocence; we scoff at these few as being immature or irresponsible. Could it be that we hide our envy behind the cloudy eyes of our lost innocence?

Thinking sure could get a fellow in a lot of trouble. Almost as much as opening his big gabber and sticking his muddy foot in it.

A face stared up at her from the mirror beside her hand. Was that really what she looked like? Was that really what she looked like, all sharp lines and huge silver-grey eyes? Certainly, no one would ever call those features beautiful, Jame thought ruefully; but were they really enough like a boy's to have fooled that old man the alley? Well, maybe with that long black hair out of sight under a cap. It was a very young face and a defiant one, she thought with a odd sense of detachment, but frightened, too. And those extraordinary eyes... what memories lived in them that she could not share? Stranger, where have you been she asked silently. What have you seen? The thin lips locked in their secrets."Ahhh!" Jame said in sudden disgust, tossing away the mirror. Fool, to be obsessed with a past she couldn't even remember. But it was all behind her now.

The money you are looking for is not in any country, phd or your designer outlook, it is in wisdom. Solomon never prayed for wealth but he asked for wisdom.

Hjuki and BilHjuki and Bil chased the moon,With waters from Byrgir’s well,Upon their shoulders they did share,Simul the pole and Saegr.‘Mani,’ they cried and chased the sky,‘From Byrgir whence we came,To water the earth and water your drink,And water the seas with rain’.Hati looked back and Skol ahead,But Mani gave no reply,For Hjuki he took, and bent his crook,And Bil was taken thereafter.Hjuki and Bil still chase the moon,From Byrgir whence they came,To water the earth and water the drink,And water the seas with rain.

...Power is lost or won, never created or destroyed. Power is a visitor to, not a possession of, those it empowers. The mad tend to crave it, many of the sane crave it, but the wise worry about its long-term effects. Power is crack cocaine for your ego and battery acid for your soul. Power’s comings and goings, from host to host, via war, marriage, ballet box, diktat, and accident of birth, are the plot of history. The empowered may serve justice, remodel the Earth, transform lush nations into smoking battlefields, and bring down skyscrapers, but power itself is amoral.” Immaculée Constantin now looks up at me. “Power will notice you. Power is watching you now. Carry on as you are, and power will favor you. But power will also laugh at you, mercilessly, as you lie dying in a private clinic, a few fleeting decades from now. Power mocks all its illustrious favorites as they lie dying…

And the One will win the Armor of the Easter Dawn and defeat the enemy with audacity and wisdom. The body of the One is strong and ready to lead. Lammasu will pounce

The only thing more unpredictable than magic is language.

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.

You have no idea how powerful it can be the truth.""No tienes ni idea de lo poderosa que puede ser la verdad.

Jace’s husky voice almost came out in a purr. He said, “You want to make a bet on that, Charlie.” Oh yeah, he can sell that stuff alright. “No worries,” Jace was saying. “I only have eyes for you.” He touched the tip of my nose with his finger. I swatted him away. Jace laughed. ~Jace~

My number one fear is heights. Well, not so much the heights but the falling from heights. Actually the falling isn’t that bad (I have a strong heart), it’s the sudden stops that are painful. Believe me — I experienced it once.

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.

At that instant the hag's noisy breathing stopped and with it all other sound. Her eyes opened, showing only whites - milky ovals infinitely eerie in the dark root-tangle of her sharp features and stringy hair. The gray tip of her tongue traveled like a large maggot around her lips.

It was never just about the money.

There was such a difference, he thought, between the beauty that illuminated, and the beauty that was illuminated.

Allegedly, allegedly I say, the R.G.A. were extremely miffed of portrait painted of their monarch, King Tingaling XX, by Master. Portrait apparently, as it’s yet t’be unveiled, depicts King Tingaling XX in rather compromisin’ position with a pineapple, a wad of cash and his favourite pig, Buttercup.

It's still horrible to wish the worst on anyone. I'm sure she had her reasons. Maybe people hurt her feelings, the same way I was hurt. A single word can feel like a rock being thrown at you.

Good, if you were not part Lycanthrope that blow would have killed you. Now, stop fighting your pain and embrace it.

So, what you’re basically telling me is death is boring but no worse than hanging out with family.

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

There are many who are hesitant and say, 'I don't witches and I don't like wizards; I only like the real world.' That's because you haven't been to the fake one yet.

Armour... is part of a state of mind... in which you admit the possibility... of being hit.

If I had known how difficult it was to edit my book, I would have done that first then written the story.

Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings,Conquer all mysteries by rule and line,Empty the haunted air, and gnomèd mine—Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile madeThe tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade

God, why do I bother trying to help you? It’s not like you appreciate it. It’s not like the word ‘thanks’ is in your vocabulary. It’s like you’re not capable of being nice to someone you decided to despise when you were six-years-old. Sure, about twelve years have passed, but what’s time compared to your rock-headed mind? - Tran

Half of what I write is imaginative reality. The other half is realized impossibilities. Blended into one, these make a fantasy.

I will do anything to saveLaurana, he swore beneath his breath, clenching his fist. Anything! If it means sacrificing myself or—He stopped. Would he really give up Berem? Would he really trade the Everman to the Dark Queen,perhaps plunge the world into a darkness so vast it would never see light again?No, Tanis told himself firmly. Laurana would die before she would be part of such a bargain.

Together they’d run away. Together they could find a place to call home. Together they’d finally form their own constellation and never break apart again. He would be her starlight again and she his sun.

The thing I can’t figure out,” Axel turned to gaze directly at the gorgeous Elf. “Is how we got drawn into this mess? A week ago we were just boys, bumbling about in our last year of study, and now we’re in the midst of events that will change the course of Alba’s future! How did that happen?” He tossed his hands in the air and shook his head. “These are our parents’ battles. This is our parents’ world. They’re supposed to hand over something valuable and precious, not suck us into a scarred and shattered wreck!”Carolyn struggled to maintain her composure. She bit her bottom lip until it quivered in pain. “I don’t know how it happened,” she whispered, shaking her head, feeling guilty and tortured and evil and awful. “It’s not fair though.”“Well, we’re in the game now,” said Axel, as he stared down at the deadly black blade. “And heaven help all those who stand in our way.

Dragons were notoriously finicky about whom they ate, and thought it the height of bad manners to be kept waiting by their selected fare.

To have reservations is to show true leadership. To have certainty without question, to lead people to battle with no qualms, or to prosecute without hesitation are qualities of a tyrant.

It took me several minutes to persuade myself to watch the news. During which time I gave myself a stern talking to. That turned into me considering a local pub that would be the perfect place to drown my sorrows in a barrel of tequila, though after much introspection, I scratched the idea just to avoid needless drunken embarrassment. Then, admittedly, I contemplated pouncing Andrew for another steamy romp session. Despite its proven potency to assuage stress and tension, I decided now was not the time to indulge in explosive sexcapades.

But when reality was hopeless, fantasy became more and more necessary.

Shining with craving, his emerald gaze penetrated her soul. "I desire you so much". His whisper melted her heart. His soft touch set her ablaze.

Max, you cannot stay in the background forever. It is time to stand out in front. You have all that you need.” Analea

Where moments before the bright morning sun flickered through the branches of the huge oak trees surrounding the property, every-thing in a ten yard radius immediately went pitch dark. The air, already a chilly fifty degrees, dropped past freezing in an instant, and the pressure changed to the point where he thought his eardrums might burst.

I have dreamed of that song, of the strange words to that simple rhyme-song, and on several occasions I have understood what she was saying, in my dreams. In those dreams I spoke that language too, the first language, and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. In my dream, it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick og everything. In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly; once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, 'Be whole.' and they would become whole, not be broken people , not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping.

Can you see the power emotion has to distort out outlook? Makes you wonder, did you have a bad day, or did you make it a bad day?

Storytellers are master manipulators transforming non-reality (grounded in reality) into vicarious experience.

A steampunk nationBaby pollution rises up then the loving comes arraigning 'causeOur art's official and only partially artificialAnd our heart's in the middle of sharp hardened shards of metal butThere's not where it settlesBecause it's beating to the steaming of God's hottest pot or kettleAnd now we face it, this creation we made toTo save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it'sOur safeway they make into a pathetic revelationIn our steampunk nationOur steampunk nation

It's not a question of can or can't. There are some things in life you just do.

Travelers aren't found. They're called.

I am not sure if women are attracted to genius. Can you imagine the wise wizard winning the woman over the gallant swordsman? It seems rather otherworldly in more ways than one.

I guess it really had been brave . . . because it was so bugger-all stupid, and if there was one thing I'd come to realize, ti was that bravery and bugger-all stupidity went hand in hand.

Relationships take work. It isn’t true love if things go smoothly.

Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.

Expand your world. (Stories about wizards and spells) are very frequently about power relationships...

The unreality of the past weeks lifted like a fog, but its residue remained. All of the past is like that, but most especially the parts that are out of the ordinary.

He continued to attack the gate. His arm started to ache. The hammer was designed for neither brute nor force. "Are you all right up there?" asked Eleanor. "Want me to go see if I can find a small child to give you a lift?" "Maybe if we swapped positions and you condescended at the gate, we'd get through faster?

I’m a blank canvas that I can paint however I desire. For the first time ever, I get to be the character in my own fantasy land.