Best 4015 quotes in «fantasy quotes» category

When a fantasy turns you on, you're obligated to God and nature to start doing it right away.

When I was growing up and wanted to be a musician, the fantasy that I had of what the music industry was is so wrong.

When I do a horror or a fantasy film it all boils down to something in the script that surprises me. It could be a big thing or a small moment. If it's there I'll do it.

When I was growing up, there were so many musicals you could watch. I like the fantasy of musicals and I love music.

When I was a kid, I read the science-fiction shelves, and I read the fantasy shelves.

When you drop all your ideas, fantasies and projections about who you are and what freedom is and remain completely empty, this is freedom.

When you are far away from reality, your fantasy won't work.

When violence becomes imbedded in a region, then this affects everything. It affects your dreams, your fantasies and relationships, and your religion becomes violent, too.

When you come into a movie theatre, there are no windows, you don't hear the sound outside and you're ready for fantasy.

Which is the supplement? Fantasy or daily routine?

When you're doing fantasy, you can get so caught up in the magic of it that you lose the humanity.

When you see something from afar, you develop a fantasy. But when you see it up close, 9 times out of 10, you wish you hadn't.

When you turn that fantasy into a fact, you are in a position to build even better fantasies. And that, my friend, is the Creative Process.

When you talk about the Final Fantasy series, the series started selling better after 7, and that was the base idea for the center of the set list for the LA concert.

Wuxia is a fantasy world exists in everyone's mind.

With any sci-fi fantasy storytelling, you must have rules be very clear, otherwise you lose people, like 'OK, they can fly; now they can't fly.'

Why are you messing with the fantasy? We know about the reality. Don't ruin the fantasy, OK?

Why do I find the fantasy - husband, family, kids - exhausting instead of alluring? Is there something wrong with me? Do I have a life?

Wizards was my homage to Tolkien in the American idiom. I had read Tolkien, understood Tolkien, and wanted to do a sort of fantasy for American kids, and that was Wizards.

Writing fantasy lets me imagine a great deal more than, say, writing about alligators, and lets me write about places more distant than Florida, but I can tell you things about Florida and alligators, let you make the connection all on your own.

Yeah, they look great, but that isn't a fantasy come true, Harry. That's a wood chipper in Playboy bunny clothing.

You have this great big fantasy life, and it looks like a non-stop 24/7 party. But what do you do when you get to the end of the Internet and there's nothing left to buy? There's just a picture of Wayne Newton flipping you off.

You have so many sources to draw on when you're a fantasy writer.

A bad conscience makes a very good ghost.

Your memories become fantasies if they are not shared, and your life in all its triviality becomes a legend.

Your whole life is nothing but a dream. You live in a fantasy where everything you know about yourself is only true for you. Your truth is not the truth for anyone else.

You slide down in your seat and make yourself comfortable. On the screen in front of you, the movie image appears—enormous and overwhelming. If the movie is a good one, you allow yourself to be absorbed in its fantasy, and its dreams become part of your memories

A Baba Yaga never breaks a promise. Legs, yes. Hearts, occasionally. But never a promise.

Above, the stars faded behind the misty sky, and the sun fanned its light upon us. We melted into each other until the dawn slid into dusk, and the sun paled into the moon, and the stars, once lost, became found again.

Accept it,” Rakturan said. “I am different than the man you first met.” “So quickly?” “What is time? A thousand years can pass in a single day.

Accept the pain, but don't accept that you deserved it.

Accidenti, hai un buon odore. Cos’è, comunque? Sembra un po’ come...» Diede un’altra annusata dubbiosa. «Biscotti con gocce di cioccolato appena usciti dal forno. Ho lo stesso odore per te?» «No.» Rory scosse la testa con decisione. Casey sembrò un po’ spiazzato. «Oh. Beh, okay.» «No,» sospirò Rory, «profumi di zucchero filato.

A conscience can be a dangerous thing

A country road, a gravel road, is a sign of civilization, sure, but it’s just a farm, an easy conquest. Iron means a stronghold, people who can defend what’s theirs.

A crush of bodies surrounded the featureless monument. The enraged dead clambered atop their ghastly kin. Caiaphas tucked his knees to his chest and hugged his legs tightly, staring at the scores of ragged, flailing hands as they scratched for purchase over the edge of the cylinder. Metal thrummed and thunder roared, filling his head. Now there were words within the deafening roar. “Straaaange,” they seemed to say. “Daaaace…” “Straaaangerrrr…” Then a quick, awful chant: “CAIAPHAS! FOREVER! CAI—” And with a piercing whistle it ended as his eardrums burst.

Actions have reactions, nonetheless. People rarely show up at Hell's doorstep clutching a map of bad intentions.

Adam glanced at me. His grin was back. I’d forgotten how easily he could wind me up. “You know, Eliza,” he said, “maybe you’re missing something here.” “You’re going to be missing a few teeth if you don’t explain yourself,” I growled.

Adamın ateş rengindeki saçları hakiki bir kızıldı. Gözleri koyu renkli ve dalgındı. Adam pek çok şeyi bilmekten gelen ve hemen göze çarpmayan bir güvenle hareket ediyordu. Yoltaşı onundu, tıpkı üçüncü sessizliğin de onun olduğu gibi. Bu da münasipti, zira bu sessizlik en büyüğüydü ve diğer ikisini sarıp sarmalıyordu. Güz sonu kadar derin ve genişti. Üzerinden nehirlerin aktığı kocaman bir kaya kadar ağırdı. Ölmeyi bekleyen bir adamın sabırlı, sapı kesilen bir çiçeğinkine benzer sesiydi.

A deep woman is a universe to explore, she is very challenging; but she is life.

Advice is superfluous to you, allies are superfluous, you’ll get by without any travelling companions. The goal of your expedition is, after all, personal and private. More than that, the nature of the goal demands that you accomplish it alone, in person. The risks, dangers, hardships and constant struggle with doubt must only burden you. For, after all, they are components of the penance, the expiation of guilt you want to earn. A baptism of fire, I’d say. You’ll pass through fire, which burns, but also purges. And you’ll do it alone. For were someone to support you in this, help you, take on even a scrap of that baptism of fire, that pain, that penance, they would, by the same token, impoverish you. They would deprive you of part of the expiation you desire, which would be owed to them for their involvement. After all, it should be your exclusive expiation.

Adventure is something that happens to someone else. When it's happening to you, it's only trouble.

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.

A faerie heart is different from a human heart. Human hearts are elastic. They have room for all sorts of passions, and they can break and heal and love again and again. Faerie hearts are evolutionarily less sophisticated. They are small and hard, like tiny grains of sand. Our hearts are too small to love more than one person in a lifetime...I tried to talk sense into my hard little heart. But it had landed on Peter, a creature two hundred times my size and barely aware of me, and there was no prying it loose.

A female dragon’s tail is of the utmost importance to her. Male dragons find them irresistible. After all where do you think the term ‘Getting some tail’ came from?

A few steps into the trees, you glance back to see the snow has already covered your prints.

A false image is, of course, a work of art, an idol. And a lie. A narcissist identifies with this image, not his true inner self. So, all he cares about is his image, not what kind of person he really is. Indeed, the latter has no real existence in his world. In identifying with his image, he's identifying with an ephemeral figment that has but virtual reality, a purely immanent existence as a reflection in the attention shone on him by others. No attention, no image. No image, no self!

A flower. White and whiskered in a fringe of ice. Silken petals held together in a loose grip

A fortress doesn’t fall unless its towers are weakened.

After all, fire and blood and death were nothing to a country led by a dragon.

After every battle, he ritually dips his hood into the blood of his enemies. I’ve seen the hood, kept under glass in the armory. The fabric is stiff and stained a brown so deep it’s almost black, except for a few smears of green. Sometimes I go down and stare at it, trying to see my parents in the tide lines of dried blood. I want to feel something, something besides a vague queasiness. I want to feel more, but every time I look at it, I feel less.