Best 4015 quotes in «fantasy quotes» category

People can always say I don't look impressive enough, but they can't argue over how strong I am once I punch them in the face.

People don't like us, my dear. The idea that someone who can play with their emotions, who can "mystically" get them to do certain things, makes them uncomfortable. What they do not realize - and what you must realize - is that manipulating is at the core of our social interaction. (...) Think about it. What is a man doing when he seeks the affection of a young lady? Why, he is trying to manipulate her to regard him favorably. What happens when two old friends sit down for a drink? They tell stories, trying to impress each other. Life as a human being is about posturing and influence. This isn't a bad thing, in fact, we depend upon it. These interactions teach us how to respond to others.

People don’t like to guess. It’s easier to know something by how it immediately appears. Dark, hard metal is known as it appears, and so dark, hard people are built from it. Marble is smooth and pale and bright like the faces chipped into it. But that’s something about life, what you think you know about a thing is always the first obstacle you face when trying to get to know it better. If they could speak, do you think they’d all be the same?

People make mistakes all the time – some of us just are in more of a position to leave an impact when we do.

People search in vain forever to find what we've got. I don't know shit about anything, Jenna, and I might be inexperienced, but I know you'll never love anyone like you love me.' 'I won't she,' she whispered. 'And yet you can leave me so easily for a baby you don't have and a husband you've never met. I'm here, I'm real, and I just lost to a goddamn fantasy. I must've never really had you at all.

People should know better than to be an ass in front of writers. We immortalize things. Lots of things. And we take liberties with character descriptions.

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

People were so often mean that when they weren’t, there was a tendency to bestow sainthood upon them. Aster did not reward common decency with her affection.

People weren't just angry about it. They were still afraid. Fear is a powerful, often irrational emotion, and mass fear... has the power to shake any society to its core. As long as the world remembered, they would live in fear of all cryptids-- regardless of whether or not any individual among us was truly dangerous. Of course, not everyone supported stripping cryptids of all right. But dissenters were few among a dangerous and violent many, and most ignored the problem. Submission was the only solution they could conceive of to fix my problem. But with the imprint of Clyde's fist still throbbing in my stomach I was less interested in fixing a problem than in becoming one.

People with imagination

People won't change until the pain of not changing is greater than the pain changing brings.

People with vision sees opportunity where there is problem. They see money not problem.

Perfection is death,' Anastasia said. 'The world is imperfect, but if it weren't, who would love it?

People would want to get safe and come to Christ because they see the evidence in your life not because you quote the scriptures to them.

Perceval said to the Grail Knight: “Will you break a spear with me this day?” He did not expect Galahad to look down on him from Lancelot’s immense height and say, gently, as if he knew it must disappoint, “Sir, I cannot.” “No? Well, there are others to fight,” said Perceval, trying not to show how vexed he felt to be denied the honour. “Not for any lack of love,” Galahad added. “But for the regard in which I hold you, Perceval of Wales.

Perhaps great fiction is in reality, deep hidden truths.

Perhaps it was without logic, for some would say I barely knew him, but I knew I loved him. And I trusted him—with my life, and with his. The time for doubt had passed.

Perhaps the greatest faculty our minds possess is the ability to cope with pain. Classic thinking teaches us of the four doors of the mind, which everyone moves through according to their need. First is the door of sleep. Sleep offers us a retreat from the world and all its pain. Sleep marks passing time, giving us distance from the things that have hurt us. When a person is wounded they will often fall unconscious. Similarly, someone who hears traumatic news will often swoon or faint. This is the mind's way of protecting itself from pain by stepping through the first door. Second is the door of forgetting. Some wounds are too deep to heal, or too deep to heal quickly. In addition, many memories are simply painful, and there is no healing to be done. The saying 'time heals all wounds' is false. Time heals most wounds. The rest are hidden behind this door. Third is the door of madness. There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in insanity. While this may not seem beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind must leave reality behind. Last is the door of death. The final resort. Nothing can hurt us after we are dead, or so we have been told.

Perhaps the so-called civilized world was a great noisy burden beneath all its wonders, and it was a relief to let go of it for a while.

Per questo, nel giorno della maniglia perduta, indugiavo con la faccia accostata alla finestra rotta, fantasticando su tutta quella gente dall’altro lato dei cumuli, chiedendomi se sarei mai riuscito a spingermi fino alla città laggiù, Forlichingham, a Londra, immaginando che ci fosse qualcuno dietro tutta quella gente, qualcuno che potesse apprezzarmi. «C’è qualcuno,» sussurrai, «c’è qualcuno lì? Chi sei? Come sei fatto?»

Personally, I thought it chancy to rely on only one god. It struck me as akin to placing all your drachars on one chariot at the races...It didn't seem logical that one god could ensure the proper working of the world.

Peut-être la civilisation était-elle destinée à crouler ? Rome comptait plus de mille années sur son calendrier et, dévorée par la sénilité, elle s’effondrait peu à peu sous son propre poids. Tenter de la sauver ne faisait, semblait-il, qu’ajouter au chaos. Tenter de la relever n’était qu’une farce bouffonne à laquelle seuls des fous comme lui se prêtaient encore sans se rendre compte de leur ridicule. Uther se vit comme un homme qui essayait de contenir le débordement d’un fleuve à mains nues. Mais si futile que puisse sembler sa tentative, elle valait mieux que l’inaction, que rester à l’écart en assistant au saccage. Cela, oui, demeurait au-dessus de ses forces.

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 made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade

Pixies is understood as the counterparts of faeries.

Please, do keep digging your own grave. I look forward to your splendidly inevitable demise.” – Dread Emperor Benevolent the First

Plots within plots, such was the business of killing kings.

Please, don’t die on me . . . not on my watch . . . not this time . . . not again- Ashbel Saunders

Please, let me take you home. You’re drunk.” “I am not.” I shoved him, spilling some kind of delicious poison on him. “Go home and have a wild time with Ms. Scarlet. In the bedroom. With the—” “Okay, you’re starting to talk board game. Let’s go home, babe. I’ll get you into bed.

¿Podían arder las velas dentro del agua? Podían. Lo sabía, mientras estaba dentro del océano; incluso sabía cómo. Lo entendía del mismo modo que entendía la materia oscura, la materia de la que está hecho todo en el universo pero que no podemos ubicar. Empecé a pensar en un océano que pasaba por debajo de todo el universo, como las oscuras aguas que lamen las tablas de madera de un viejo embarcadero: un océano que se extiende desde la eternidad hasta la eternidad y, sin embargo, es lo suficientemente pequeño como para caber en un cubo.

Plus, I happened to be a history nerd. Why else would I be interested in a guy born in the year 519?

Pointed teeth would give one an appearance of ferocity," he said, tapping a straight white tooth. "Although that might require one to follow through with biting someone from time to time, and the thought is enough to make one feel ill. I don't even like my meat cooked rare.

Por cada bisturí que nace, hay un cuerpo que reclama el sabor de su filo

Poor innocent little lambie," God said, shaking his head. "Telion. I made you people in My Image. I swear, and drink, and have sex. I even burp and fart, but I damn sure don't snore. You seriously think I mind if people I made to reflect me act like I do? Not hardly. And there's another bone I have to pick with you lot. Know why I don't mess with Amrontil for the most part? I'll tell you. You sorry fuckers forgot how to talk to Me and you completely fucking rejected My gifts. You grovel and beg and plead like you're talking to My asshole Brother Gabriel. Makes Me want to barf. Come on, people, get a backbone! And fucking get laid, would you? Uptight repressed bastards.

Poor Uther. He believed that virtues are handed down through a man's loins! What nonsense! A child is like a calf; if the thing is born crippled you knock it smartly on the skull and serve the cow again. That's why the Gods made it such a pleasure to engender children, because so many of the little brutes have to be replaced. There's not much pleasure in the process for women, of course, but someone has to suffer and thank the Gods it's them and not us.

—Por supuesto, Barramar. Te lo prometo. Somos una manada, ¿recuerdas? —Recuerdo, Gryal… —se abrazó el viejo al Capitán de la Milicia—. Y lo seremos hasta el final.

Por encima de todo, había aprendido la lección que su soberbio hijo jamás entendería. Que el verdadero poder, si quiere perdurar, debe ser anónimo, permanecer oculto y manejar los hilos desde las sombras. Pues si nadie sabe donde reside, nadie intentará suplantarlo.

Pour la tromper [la neurasthénie], il donna quelques coups de bâton à Piston. Le laquais fit acte de contrition, ce qui plut à la Meulière.

Power contains secrets...Secrets contain knowledge...Knowledge contains power.

Powiedz mi, Tool, o czym myślisz najczęściej? Imass wzruszył ramionami. – O bezcelowości, przyboczna. – Czy wszyscy Imassowie o niej myślą? – Nie. Większość w ogóle nie myśli. – A to dlaczego? Przechylił głowę. – Dlatego, że to bezcelowe, przyboczna.

Procrastination robs the world of countless treasures.

Psychiatrist and Auschwitz survivor, Viktor Frankl, stated, "...man is by no means merely a product of heredity and environment. There is a third element: decision. Man ultimately decides for himself!

Pronounce these words slowly: forsythia, magnolia, azalea, redbud. Spring: it's not a fantasy, it's real.

Psychic change, as Todorov has recognized, subverted the genre in another way, by revoking the cultural taboos, the social censorship, that had prohibited the overt treatment of psychosexual themes, which then found covert expression in the supernatural tale. 'There is no need today to resort to the devil [or to posthumous reverie] in order to speak of excessive sexual desire, and none to resort to vampires in order to designate the attraction exerted by corpses: psychoanalysis, and the literature which is directly or indirectly inspired by it, deal with these matters in undisguised terms. The themes of fantastic literature have become, literally, the very themes of the psychological investigations of the last fifty years.

Puckett's Stacks was not the sort of bookshop one happened upon; it was the sort of bookshop for which one looked deliberately.

PROLOGUE Some years ago in the Planet Orfheus ... It was dark when Lucius reached the rendezvous which had been chosen to be the new hideout. The latter had been used for several months and they were concerned that they were being followed and were close to being discovered. "I thought you were not coming. I've been waiting for you for almost an hour. I was getting anxious," Sofia said, relieved. "Sorry, love. It is becoming increasingly difficult. I almost didn't make it today. The troops were ambushed in the last invasion. Igor and many warriors returned seriously injured," Lucius replied. He looked worried. Why this sudden encounter? They had agreed that the next would be the following week. Lucius gave her a big hug, pulled her close to him, and remained silent for a few moments. His longing and desire consumed him. She meant the world to him. Without Sofia, his life would never make sense. He would never forget those eyes, serene and sincere, with a blue so bright and clear that were able to see the soul of the tormented warrior that was he. With her golden hair, Sofia looked like an angel. "Is there a problem? You're so quiet and deep in thought," she asked, puzzled. He answered, "I'm thinking about us. How long are we keeping it secret?" He walked away from her, sighing. "We can't keep lying and pretending that all is well. You have no idea how much I have to endure when you are away from me, or when I see you with him." "Love, not now. We have already discussed this subject several times. You know that our only alternative would be to flee and pray they will never find us," she replied. Sofia knew very well that the laws of the kingdom could not be disregarded. Love, respect, and loyalty were key factors that were part of the hierarchy of Orfheus. Although she had always been in love with Lucius who had never shown any interest in her, Sofia was bound to his brother Alex as a result of a pact. Over the centuries, Lucius began to change and express loving feelings for her. She never ceased to love him and both succumbed to the temptation and passion of it. Inevitably, a love affair developed between the two. Interrupting her thoughts, Lucius grabbed her by the hand and led her into the hut. This hut was located inside a vast and beautiful forest. He pulled her by the waist, gave her a passionate kiss, stroked her hair, and said softly, "Love, I missed you so much." "I also felt homesick but the real reason I came here today is to tell you something very important. I need you to listen carefully and keep calm," she said as she ran her hands through her hair which contrasted with her pale skin. Sofia did not want to scare him. However, she imagined that he would be upset and angry with the news. Unfortunately, the revelation was inevitable and sooner or later, everything would come out. "I'm pregnant," she said unceremoniously. For a brief moment, Lucius said nothing. He just stared at her without any reaction. He seemed to be in a silent battle with his own thoughts. "But how?" he babbled, not believing what he had just heard. It was surely a bombshell revelation. That would be the end for them. Sofia said, "Stay calm, love. I know this changes everything. What we were planning for months is no longer possible." She sat on a makeshift stool and continued with tears in her eyes. "With the baby coming, I cannot simply go through the portal. The baby and I would die during the crossing." Lucius replied, "Could we ask for help from Aunt Wilda? She is very powerful. Probably she would be able to break through the magic of the portals." Sofia had already thought of that. She was well aware that it was the only choice left. Aunt Wilda had always been like a mother to her. The sorceress adopted her when she was a girl, soon after her family had died in combat.

Promises don't matter to a dead girl.

pulling a great substance from a higher height whilst leaning on a slippery ground with the mentality of having the substance whilst standing is a thought of fantasy. You may only result in falling with the substance

Punctuality, with its unseemly whiff of eagerness, was for peasants.

Pure sex is masturbation with a real partner who functions as a prop for our indulging in fantasies, while it is only through love that we can reach the … Other.

Putting her mind to it, Love would become familiar with his body. She would know him from top to bottom, from beginning to end. Touching this boy would be the death, and life, of her.