Fantasy Books Quotes

I was pregnable once,” Merill thought to contribute. She remembered how troublesome it made getting around, having a ripe belly. Couldn’t roll properly, couldn’t hop properly, couldn’t romp or flop properly. There were the cravings for roasted cabbage—she loathed cabbage, with its leaves and growing in rows. And labor! Merill passed out during childbirth. She’d endured burns, lacerations, rips, serrated teeth, nails, hooks and a trove of unmentionable harm-inflictors. Labor trounced them all and wriggled gleefully in the spray of blood and gore. “Being pregnable is no good. No good at all. Like growing a bitter melon in your belly.

This book had two authors, and they were both the same person.

Terry Pratchett

Would you like me to put you out of your misery, before I put you out of your misery?

Paul Cude

My strings are being pulled, this time by a different puppet master.

Emilyann Girdner

Demon,” the woman spat onto the road. “Well, girl, thank you. I grant no one’s wishes and so you mark me ‘demon.’ I grant no wishes and I do as I see fit to be done. I will not answer to you, girl, nor to any one of yours, but I will always look. I am not the one who turns away.

It all started when Dam went missing.

Andrew J. Peters

It does no good for you to spend all of your time worrying about what may come and being blind to what you have in the present.” ~Blaez, The Guardians of Eastgate

I do tasks for the gods, usually things like tracking down rare items or taking someone safely to a destination."D'Molay the Freeman Tracker

Make no mistake, Marin...a Dragon Guardian may not always be the one sitting upon the throne, but he or she is the protector of the entire realm.

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

Derian pulled the blanket snug around himself. “This is my added assurance.” Eena’s nose wrinkled. “It’s your what?” “If you recall the last time we were here standing in this very spot, you pelted me with neumberries.” He held up a single berry before popping it into his mouth. “I doubt you would risk soiling your blanket, so I figure wrapping it around me this way I’m pretty much assured safety from any potential attack.” He winked playfully, and she laughed out loud. “I’m afraid you don’t know me half as well as you think,” she announced. Aiming low, she flung a sizable berry at his calve. It hit its mark.“Whoa, whoa!” He lowered the blanket to cover his legs. “You can’t hide yourself entirely, Derian,” she said, aiming for his face. He ducked, raising the blanket like a shield in the process.Another round of ammunition pelted his ankles before he decided it was time to fight back. Eena found herself bound up in her own blanket, arms wrapped securely at her sides. She laughed nonstop, unable to move within his strong hold. Derian leaned forward until their noses touched, and then he kissed her giggles silent. He kept her in the blanket, snug and close to him, but Eena managed to wriggle an arm free and drape it around his neck, holding his lips in reach. She uttered a quick count in between kisses.“Seven,” she breathed.Derian paused, his mouth a whisper away from hers. It tickled when he spoke. “No, no, Eena.”“No what?”“No counting. Not today. No ground rules.”She barely uttered a partial “’kay” before his mouth covered hers again. His hot breath tasted like breakfast. He fixed his hands on each side of her face, and the blanket fell to the ground. As the intensity of their kisses grew hungry, he gripped her cheeks more securely. Eena could feel the air electrifying around them. Her heartbeat drummed—excited and anxious. “Derian…” she breathed. But he didn’t stop. She felt his hand move to support her neck while the other slid down her back, urging her closer. She brought her arms together and pressed against his chest, somewhat objecting to the intimacy.“Derian…” she tried again. But he covered her mouth with his own.She pushed more firmly against him without success. Her protest weakened as his kisses softened. The fervor subsided, and she could feel her wild pulse even out. Amidst a string of supple kisses, Derian’s breathing slowed. He planted his lips on her forehead for a moment before squeezing her tenderly. She snuggled up against his warm chest. “One ground rule,” he whispered in her ear. “We stop when you say ‘when.’”“When,” she uttered.“Okay,” he agreed.Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, she stepped back to look up questioningly at the captain. “Wasn’t there a leftover sandwich in that basket from last night?”His lips formed a guilty smile as he confessed, “Yes—and it was delicious.

Richelle E. Goodrich

My heart almost vaulted out of my chest. I was snuggled against Ryan’s shoulder. We were burrowed under the cloak and sleeping bag, and my hand rested on his cheek, about to swat the stray hair that had fallen over my face. This wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for one tiny detail.Ryan was awake.

Sam Dogra

Evil surrounds everyone, but not everyone is able to confront it.

You cannot be betrayed by your enemies, only your friends.

Brian D. Anderson

Your present is what you live, but your past is what you carry.

Choose well how to live the next moment.

D. Thourson Palmer

Memory is like a box of chocolates. They disappear quickly.

Fantasy is a reaction to the constraints of reality.

Stewart Stafford

When his dead father touched his hand, Athson almost dropped the arrow.

When his dead father touched his hand, Athson almost dropped the arrow." From The Bow of Destiny

Hastra, you think you see, but you don't see this. You never have." Corgren, from The Bow of Destiny

Justice lay on the edge o his blessed sword, but revenge - sweet as candy - filled his senses." The Bow of Destiny

Names are for those who do not know themselves." Makwi - from The Bow of Destiny

So an inerrant archer who's inaccurate." Hastra to Athson, from The Bow of Destiny

Do you feel it? That roaring call?

Rosemary A. Johns

Blood Life is not hunger. It’s freedom.

Rosemary A. Johns

…dancing in the carnage and the flames.

Rosemary A. Johns

Mistasinon stood as the music of life flowed around him, the instrument of his agency muted.

F.D. Lee

She was here and the world, for so long ugly and deformed, was all at once itself again. She was taking a glass of sweet wine from one of the waiters. She was smiling. She was breathing. She was here. She was an island of such colossal importance within a sea of inconsequence that it seemed impossible the Ball was able to continue its empty existence.

F.D. Lee

The woman above him had tumbled out of his dreams, and now stood like a half-waking ghost, a photograph double exposed, showing him in one moment the fallacy of his past as it bled into his future. The image of Maria Sophia had grown too large for him to bear. He had made it so. In his industry and creativity he had transformed her into something so wonderful that the very fact she might now be anything less terrified him almost as much as the prospect she might exceed it.

F.D. Lee

Eena worried to Ian in her thoughts. (You’re not going to let him walk away thinking what I think he’s thinking, are you?)(You won't change his mind. The evidence is a little suggestive. You should have just stayed behin

Richelle E. Goodrich

People that are lazy don't get anything accomplished. It's People like me that are reliable.

Richard W. Todd

How can you understand the language of music, if you will not be an instrument?”—Zarost

Tolkien did admit that, 'As a guide, I had only my own feelings for what is appealing or moving.' In other words ~ he wrote about what interested him ~ and despite his protestation of including anything allegorical into his tale, Catholic history and mystic prophecy obviously received its fair share of attention ...

E.A. Bucchianeri

My mother used to read to me every night when I was little. We got through most of the major fantasy books of that time. The Narnia books by C.S. Lewis were my favorites and, later, Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. I started making dolls to fill in the gaps of the dolls I had. Obviously we couldn't buy centaurs and fauns and elves and fairies, so I made them to play with the normal dolls I had. I must have been about six years old when I started making fantasy dolls.

It was a glorious illusion and she fell asleep before it ended.

You don’t know anything about me.”“No, I know not everything about you. But I sense enough to know you have mistaken obsession with drive, guilt with injustice. I know you want to escape what you are, cabbage fairy,” he said, reaching for his hood and gloves and tucking them into the waistband of his trousers. “Your desires are no different from my own, I simply have the courage to face them.

F.D. Lee

Speak peace unto the world and good souls will stand.

L.T. Hill

CPR dummy looked like him and had clearly been stabbed. Repeatedly. In the groin. He thought she might have used the dummy for target practice, and tried not to be offended. Key word: tried.

CPR dummy looked like him and had clearly been stabbed. Repeatedly. In the groin. He thought she might have used the dummy for target practice, and tried not to be offended. Key word: tried.

If you see the dragon fly,best you drink the flagon dry.”—Zarost

Do not speak wickedness, Tania. God can yet deliver us, if He chooses. If not, we shall glorify Him with our deaths. Jonah Havalseth

Once you become a known writer, you will not have bad books anymore. You will only have less good books than the good ones.

Those who try to juggle wisdom, power and greed, drop one of the balls, every time.”—Zarost

If you want to write a fantasy story with Norse gods, sentient robots, and telepathic dinosaurs, you can do just that. Want to throw in a vampire and a lesbian unicorn while you're at it? Go ahead. Nothing's off limits. But the endless possibility of the genre is a trap. It's easy to get distracted by the glittering props available to you and forget what you're supposed to be doing: telling a good story. Don't get me wrong, magic is cool. But a nervous mother singing to her child at night while something moves quietly through the dark outside her house? That's a story. Handled properly, it's more dramatic than any apocalypse or goblin army could ever be.

Patrick Rothfuss