Best 4015 quotes in «fantasy quotes» category

The world was constructed into splintered shards. A domino effect of decisions, of mistakes, of success, of heartbreak, of loneliness. Of fear.

The Worst thing that Good could do to Evil was ignore it...

The worst thing about knowing that Gary Fairchild had been dead for a month was seeing him every day at work.

The worth is in the act. Your worth halts when you surrender your will to change and experience life. But options are before you; choose one and dedicate yourself to it. The deeds will give you a new hope and purpose.

They call us monsters because it makes it easier to hurt us. Bus monsters are people too.

They are ever-changing. They are unlike immortals who stay young and beautiful forever—who have time under their control. Humans, they only have a few years to live, and yet there is beauty in the way time controls them.

They are faithful, even if we are not.

They didn't need to play a video game; it suddenly felt like they were living one.

They didn’t speak again but sat in disbelief and wonder as the cookies, made with butter, sugar, flour, eggs, and a dollop of exasperation, slowly cooled on their tray.

They have no gods. They work magic, and think they are gods themselves. But they are not. And when they die, they (...) become dust and bone, and their ghosts whine on the wind a little while till the wind blows them away. They do not have immortal souls.

They had just digested a recent meal of prepositions and were happily farting out apostrophes and ampersands; the air was heav'y with th'em&.

They're only memories, Sam. They might comfort us on days of self-loathing, but that's all. We have to consciously move forward.

They rode into the unknown, death as their only guide.

They poured out the lower doors and windows of the castle, howling to the skies. They evolved into a kind of cohesive moving liquid, flowing down the hillside as one silvered blob, like mercury on a scientist’s palm.

They say 'Chaos is the ally of the desperate man,' and I reckon it applies to dwarves and snot-nosed boys too. Let's test is at the front gate, shall we?

They sat and he drew her into him. Their lips met, sparking an internal firework display. His soft exquisite lips pressed gently against hers. His kiss held the exact right balance between tenderness and a kind of passionate urgency.

They say that to live in the Wilds, you have to be half-wild yourself. Or at least very brave. And Zane is both.

They say the Howling Duke and the Chief of Winds are more cruel. They say He Who Commands Fear is stronger, more powerful. The Keeper of the Markets is more calculating. The Colourful King, She Who Sleeps For The Mountains and the Lost Emperors are more unpredictable, more changeable...This is all true, you have to understand." He swallowed, visibly. "But I daresay I fear the Pale Queen the most." "Why?" Mr Benjamin grinned at my question, his lips stretching tight over his blunt, brown teeth. There was no humour in it. "Because she is most human.

They send a girl to slay a god.

They stared into the distance as though they were being absorbed into an alternate space-time reality. Perhaps they were. But probably they already had been.

they start in the ice garden, through the twins grow impatient with leisurely pace that celia prefers to take around the frozen trees. before they have traveled halfway through the space they are begging to ride the carousel instead.

They’ve made her something else now.

They were daughters of the sky. Luck belonged to them— never bad, often good, sometimes hard.

They were like lightning and rain, existing together but clashing at their very natures.

They were rebellious through their artistic expression and their uplifting spirits

They want to take you away from me. They want to take away your right to follow your path. I can’t let that happen. I must protect you. You must remain hidden.” -Astral

Thing is, I am not a big fan of hovers. I firmly believe that if man was meant to fly we’d have feathers, rubber bones, or better insurance coverage.

Think back over the years, when each kingdom had its own king. They fought each other, not only between kingdoms, but within kingdoms. They had no unity, no peace! Every kingdom wanted something another kingdom had, and rather than share, they fought! There was greed! There was strife! There was war and there was death! That, my hypocritical and judgmental friend, constitutes the highest form of slavery! Ryadok

Think of the cafeteria as a road map to where you belong.” Danielle pointed to the beautiful people in one corner. “Princesses and Princes over here. Then you have Heroes—leading ladies and gents that aren’t royalty—Sidekicks, Villains, Pirates, Faeries, Future Animal Friends, and the ones scattered are extras—not too important but important enough to be here. Like I said, everyone sticks to their own kind.” “Who are you?” “Cinderella of course,” Danielle giggled.

Thinking about such things soothed the creature as it dug at the base of a tall oak tree, deep into the ground, covering itself with dirt and leaves and moss; hiding, healing, waiting.

Thinking and planning is one side of life; doing is another. A man cannot be doing all the time.

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.

This ain't beauty,' Rook said, and spat savagely- grossly- downwind. "Just some nasty shadows masquerading.

This book is a work of fiction. Actually, it is a work of fiction within a fiction, as the main characters, though real persons in a fictional world, are being depicted in a book which other fictional characters in the same world are reading. Any reference to historical events-- rather, historical events non-Marridonian, and also non-Sesternese-- real people—rather, people in our realm, not the persons I was referring to in the previous line-- or real places—places that are not Marridon, Sesterna, and any place on the Two Continents-- are used fictitiously, because this is a work of fiction, and is a fiction within a fiction, as was previously stated. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination—referring to the ultimate author, not the fictitious author who has written the book within the book-- and any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living, dead, or otherwise, is entirely coincidental, but any resemblance to actual persons or places in the Two Continents is intentional. Absolutely no parts of this book, text or art, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means, whether electronically or mechanically, including photocopying— “By Myrellenos, are we here in the disclaimer again? This is the third time, I believe. And there are still no cups out. Where is the teapot?” “Here, boss.” “Oh, there is tea in this story? I might be more inclined to stay and hear this one. The others were dreadful slow. I must have some tea, if I am going to be made to sit and listen to a whole book. I am not Bartleby, who can sit at his desk and flump over his tomes until he moulders.” “He’s gonna hear you, boss.” “I should say not, Rannig. He is too busy with doing the edits. He found a mistake in one of the other books about us and demanded he perform the editing this time around. The author was very good to let him do as he likes. He is missing tea, however.” --audio recording, data retrieval, cloud storage, torrent, or streaming service. If you do decide to ignore this disclaimer and print or share this book illegally, I will have Bartleby come to your house with a sample from the Marridonian legal extracts, and he will read them to you until you promise never to do anything illegal again.

This is for everyone who has ever looked at the stars, or gazed from atop a hill, or across the sea and wondered...

This is m-me.” I indicated the lonely track. “Really? What’s up there?” He peered over my shoulder in genuine curiosity. “Is there a house up there? You’re not a sylph or something that really does live wild, are you?

This isn't the hand of some swooning princess who sits tatting lace and waiting for some prince to save her. This is the hand of a woman who would climb a rope of her own hair to freedom, or kill a captor ogre in his sleep. And this is the hand of a woman who would have made it through the fire on her own if I hadn't been there. Singed perhaps, but safe.

This dress won't fit without a twenty-two-inch waist, although just once I'd like to see you down to twenty.

This is nice,” Dylanna commented. “Almost like old times,” Kamarie said. “Almost,” Oraeyn chuckled, “except we’re not outside in that rain. We’re not hungry, wet, cold, or lost, and there are no enemies chasing us. Except for that, it’s exactly like old times!” Kamarie chuckled. “You left out being terrified out of our minds.

This is not my bedroom!

This isn’t going to be a cute little storybook you can close when you’re done. You open this and you’re going to be letting things out you cannot possibly imagine. And believe me when I tell you this is no fairytale.”–Eli (Darkness Of Light)

This is the beginning of a new time,” Torius said, “a great moment for us. One of us has learnt the Tongue and freed a princess. I have saved him and killed the guards. No longer will we be slaves. No longer will the guards tell us what to do. No longer will we listen. We will fight till we get what we want!” A roar exploded from the children around him. “This is a revolution,” Torius went on. “You all remember the pain that you have felt when the guards have touched you. You all know the shame we carry within us at being treated like this. No more! We will stand!

This is what a castle sounded like when it died, and he knew he would never forget it.

This is surely the most significant of the elements that Tolkien brought to fantasy.... his arranged marriage between the Elder Edda and "The Wind in the Willows"--big Icelandic romance and small-scale, cozy English children's book. The story told by "The Lord of the Rings" is essentially what would happen if Mole and Ratty got drafted into the Nibelungenlied.

This is what we are for, Alin,” the older guardsman said, turning to his companion. Adare had never heard anyone use Birch’s first name. She hadn’t even known it herself. “Our lives for hers. If she refuses this, there’s no saying what the zealots will do to her.” “There’s no saying what the zealots will do if she agrees,” Birch pointed out. “We can’t save her if we’re dead.” “That is a risk that the princess will have to assess for herself. Our duty is to serve.” “I thought service meant fighting,” Birch protested, but the anger had gone out of him. Resignation thinned his voice. “Sometimes, Alin,” Fulton replied, nodding. “And sometimes it means dying.

This is the right time They are the right people Will it be enough for mankind? From "The Rishis: Book of Secrets.

This life is but a brief tenure, one of many perspectives a spirit must experience in the quest for eternity.

This reminds Faron of those stupid dogs that people put in their cars, that when the car moves, the dogs frantically nod their heads, like some demented, freshly graduated psychologist, with their first patients.

This, since junior school, had been virtually my only experience of women—as fantasy figures. Reading about women in fantasy novels had set me an even more unrealistic point of view. The Lord of the Rings doesn't help, with its sexless visions of elf maidens who may as well be speaking paintings, and neither does other fantasy literature, where women seem to exist solely to be rescued or slept with. The men they want are sorcerer-kings, doomed warriors or deadly assassins. I think the idea that women might fancy good-looking, well-adjusted men who are nice to them is too much for the average fantasy-head to bear.

This war's not over! Not by a long shot! --Enoch