Fantasy Quotes - Page 6

you were attacked by cement monkeys?

Tom Cook

What he'd find there, of course, was up to Pete. But he was sure there were magicians in Tampico and leopard-skins and golden thrones in Juba. Dragons and pirates and white temples where magic dwelt. And best of all, the places he didn't know about yet, the ones that would come as surprises. Oh, not entirely pleasant surprises. There should be a hint of peril, a touch of terror, to emphasize the brightness of adventure...("Before I Wake...")

A Skalan trader tried to tell me the streets of his cities were paved with gold," Alec went on. "I didn't believe him, though. He was the one who tried to buy me from father. I was only eight or nine. I could never figure out what he wanted me for.""Really?" Seregil lifted a noncommittal eyebrow.

Lynn Flewelling

A story just isn't a story without a dragon.

These are Plenimaran marines, and there's not much most of them aren't capable of, if you take my meaning.""I don't think I do," said Alec, puzzled by Seregil's tone."Then try this. They have a saying among them: 'When whores are few, a boy will do.' Got that?""Oh." Alec felt his face go hot.

Lynn Flewelling

Next time when I dive into the territory that I had lived next to, where my sister grew up, I know what to expect. I would be ready. I would be prepared.

Erica Sehyun Song

It was the ideal place where people call ‘home.

Erica Sehyun Song

I knew at that point I was more than capable of loving Jack - I was meant to.

Every Mind Breaker I met was a true person inside and out. My name is Hayden Laevary, and these are their stories... as well as mine.

I wanted moments like this to last forever. If it couldn't, I wanted to play it on repeat so I wouldn't forget the details of every second.

Courage comes in the form of a girl.

And who is to say the truth can’t be a miracle?

It made the woman feel like a thousand seas had come together from all worlds, like faraway lands had been bridged together, and the vastness of the known and the unknown were somehow easier to comprehend.

Cristina M. Sburlea

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.

Alessandra Torre

Here was the puppeteer who was pulling strings all over the Empire. Didn’t he know that the Fates were the only ones who could tweak the threads of destiny?

If you continue to threaten us, I will act upon my threat.’ I felt silly using the precise language of bargaining dictators and gangsters, but they seemed to take it seriously. Stickings’ smirk almost completely faded. ‘The thing is, Effie –’ his voice dropped to barely a murmur, ‘– I don’t believe you.

If he came back in and ventured just a step too close to me, I would do it. I had been tempered in a furnace of Stickings’ making, and I had come out stronger.

Jamie was like no one else he had ever met. She had ethics; she had moral integrity. She was clearly not corruptible, at least not for money--that test was over.

She knew that her lifework had changed forever that day. She was being called to use her gift to help prevent a tragedy such as this from ever happening again. And she knew, without question, that the whales and dolphins would reach out to her again, from the other side of the night . . . and she would be there.

Jamie reflected. She couldn't help but feel there was more to it than what Mat was asking for, and she knew that his purpose for bringing her in had nothing to do with 'saving the ecosystem.' It was a ruse that he knew would resonate with her--she knew it. No, there was something more: something hidden.

Yes, indeed. San Francisco was the perfect place for a walker between worlds like Jamie Hastings to grow up in. Her soul had chosen wisely before coming in, born to a visionary mother like Amanda, and situated in one of sunny California's most beautiful landscapes.

America, and all it had once stood for--all he had fought for--was dying...on life support, and counting.

Not a day went by that he didn't think of that moment of impact, and when he watched, helplessly, as his son died in his arms. For all intents and purposes, he died too. Jeb Richardson sealed his heart that day; he closed his mind. He cursed god, gave up on his dreams, and turned away from love altogether.

The thought of that kid pulling a knife on the other, for something as trivial as a stereo, was unconscionable to a simple, peace-loving man like Nathan, who grew up in a time when people still talked to each other . . . when there was still a dialogue going on. Sure, there had always been violence, he didn't deny that, but it was the exception when he was growing up, compared to the new 'normal' of today: this constant threat, all the time, everywhere . . . around every corner. The world was seething now, bubbling over in a cauldron of rage.

Unbeknownst to most of its dormant and otherwise distracted inhabitants, one beautiful tiny blue sphere, spinning through the dark cloak of galactic space, was clearly under siege.

He was a man's man: an expert on the golf course, a force to be dealt with in business, and a Texan through and through--and proud of it.

She was a perfectly clean slate--a total enigma.

The lanterns filled the sky, pulsing with the harmonious light of fireflies, and a great host of ghosts departed from the earth to join them. The higher they rose into the zenith of the heavens, the further night was chased back, until a great and radiant being resumed its throne in the sky.

Heather Heffner

... 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.

I had never seen the view at this time before, at the very pinnacle of night when sunset was far behind us and dawn had not yet risen rosy-fingered from the horizon. The night was ashen, tones of granite and iron and heather in the ripples of the waves, which were calmer than earlier in the day. It was as if even the ocean was drowsy – a pale, weighty moon hung full and pregnant in the sky, its reflection floating lambent on the water.

It didn’t feel like the Fates were looking over me that day. When I glanced up, I couldn’t see destiny’s threads tangling in the sky like the silk of a giant spider’s web, woven by three pairs of gnarled, arthritic hands. All I saw was blue – the timeless blue of an empty sky, and the restless blue of a rough ocean.

Even now I ask myself, what would have happened if I had gone to the cove with Tansy that Thursday afternoon, instead of going to the beach? If I had stayed away from the boat at the jetty, hidden from sight? If I had thrown the pearl back in the sea at the first opportunity when I had seen the look in Rammell’s eyes? But then I reason that it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. The Fates had spun my destiny, and I was tight roping along the threads that tangled in the sky, regardless of the drop below.

I no longer hated the whining, menacing dragonfly we rode in, but admired its grace as we surged towards the clouds, the lights of Edinburgh twinkling below us like the starry constellations of a world upside down.

Maybe they want us to feel uneasy. Maybe they think we’ll make a mistake if they’re constantly breathing down our necks.’ I shivered violently, as if I really could feel the hot, hungry breath of evil intentions panting just behind me.

Maybe, if I had lied all those years ago, my life could have followed a very different path. But as it is I faithfully follow the long, long thread the Fates have woven for me.

So tall and lithe in his suede and leather outfit. So utterly gorgeous it almost ached to look at him.

The difference between the quest for the Holy Grail and someone saying ‘bring me a cup’ is the flavor text and the number of stops involved.

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.

Effie Seabright, we’ve been fated to meet you for a long time.

Sometimes it takes a little madness to fulfill great things.

Riding a Dragon is amazing, exhilarating, and murder on the thighs.

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.

Oh, Hank," Susan whispered, "their wings are furry.""Oh, James," Harriet whispered, "their hands are kind.

Ursula K Le Guin

Border crossing' is a recurrent theme in all aspects of my work -- editing, writing, and painting. I'm interested in the various ways artists not only cross borders but also subvert them. In mythology, the old Trickster figure Coyote is a champion border crosser, mischievously dashing from the land of the living to the land of the dead, from the wilderness world of magic to the human world. He tears things down so they can be made anew. He's a rascal, but also a culture hero, dancing on borders, ignoring the rules, as many of our most innovative artists do. I'm particularly drawn to art that crosses the borders critics have erected between 'high art' and 'popular culture,' between 'mainstream' and 'genre,' or between one genre and another -- I love that moment of passage between the two; that place on the border where two worlds meet and energize each other, where Coyote enters and shakes things up. But I still have a great love for traditional fantasy, for Imaginary World, center-of-the-genre stories. I'm still excited by series books and trilogies if they're well written and use mythic tropes in interesting ways.

But are they heroes or mere dreamers?

Gaius Valerius Flaccus

There was a feeling on the air like the eve of the end of the world...

Billie-Jo Williams

Success is hard, rewards are scant and the glory not always there.

Billie-Jo Williams

One misspoken word and the world will no longer know you. Mark Andrew Ramsay

Brendan Carroll

I am come,' the Demon said simply, in a droning monotone. 'I am with the dead of the lake. Come to me.' Then the appearance of the skull-face vanished and the blood burst into a shroud of flame, spreading through the throne room in a storm of brilliant red and yellow. The screams could be heard half a league away.

Ian Livingstone

(Evil people) do not believe in forgiveness. Their transgressions are either punished or not punished. That is the only result that matters.

A man without equals is a dangerous man indeed. He must exercise the most difficult of attributes, restraint.

At least he possessed enough sense to recognize how little sense he possessed.

A man walked across the moors from Razorback to Lancre town without seeing a single marshlight, head-less dog, strolling tree, ghostly coach or comet, and had to be taken in by a tavern and given a drink to unsteady his nerves.

Terry Pratchett

I think it simply comes down to fantasy being the language I speak. While I cannot get into epic sword and sorcery, I see the world as having the potential to be slightly off-kilter. I have run into people who do not quite seem human – though of course they are – and have been privy to coincidences that almost make me believe in magic. Fantasy is sometimes just asking yourself, “Well, what if you are wrong? What if the world doesn’t work the way you think? What would that mean?

Thomm Quackenbush

Where are we?" Ni asked."This is my work place and the center ofUniverse as well." Simone said."Do you mean the tower is in the center of Universe?" Ni asked“I mean that we are both in space and inside the tower at the same time.""Why is it so dark here?" Ni asked."At the beginning, it is always dark." Simone replied, "Then everything comes into existence little by little.Even Light is born out of Darkness.

Leora Cika Waldman

Why all this death?You might as easily ask ‘Why all this life?’.

Those of strong character and training are chosen by fate. They cannot help but rise to the forefront when their nations are troubled.

We learned the seven traditional ways to make words unclear.""Seven? That many? Which was the most effective?""Poor grammar skills.

Linc was so amazed at what he saw and heard, “This is sooo cool. I love this place. This looks way better than a day spotting weird people at Walmart.

As if grabbed by strong arms that were not there, he felt himself being lifted. Raising skyward and spinning, he fought to regain orientation. The winds were holding him and carrying him higher. Spinning him sickeningly, senses askew, his focus was being lost.

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