Quotes from Michael Moorcock

I am from crumbling Imrryr, the Dreaming City, from the Isle of the Dragon, hub of Ancient Melniboné, and I know what beauty really is. Your baubles cannot tempt one who has looked upon the milky Heart of Arioch, upon the blinding iridescence that throbs from the Ruby Throne, of the languorous and unnamable colours in the Actorios stone of the Ring of Kings. These are more than jewels, madam—they contain the lifestuff of the universe.

If your people spent less time maintaining their own devalued myths about themselves and more upon studying the world as it is I think your city would have a greater chance of surviving. As it is, the place is crumbling beneath the weight of its own degraded fictions. The legends which offer a race their sense of pride and history eventually become putrid.

A man frantically spurring an equally frightened horse—and behind him, the distance decreasing, a pack of what at first appeared to be dogs. But these were not dogs—they were half-dog and half-bird, with the lean, shaggy bodies and legs of dogs but possessing birdlike talons in place of paws and savagely curved beaks which snapped where muzzles should have been.

Thanks, good sir," he said lightly. "Without your help, the battle might have lasted longer. You deprived me of good sport, but you meant well. Moonglum is my name.

Elric turned his face towards her, his crimson-irised eyes burning with a strange emotion. He put a hand to his dead white skin and a crooked smile twisted his lips. "I, too, have felt as you do," he said quietly.

Everything may exist for a while - even justice. But the true state of the universe is anarchy. It is the mortal's tragedy that he can never accept this.

Arioch!" swore Elric, suddenly recognizing the riders. "These are the Lords of Dharzi—dead these ten centuries. We're fighting dead men, Moonglum, and the too-tangible ghosts of their dogs. Unless I can think of a sorcerous means to defeat them, we're doomed!

Yet without Chaos there would be no Creation, and perhaps no Creator. That is the simple truth of all existence, Lord Elric. The promise of immortality.

Be wary of this devil-blade, Moonglum. It kills the foe - but savours the blood of friends and kinfolk most.

Corum knew that he was mad, in Vadhagh terms. But he supposed that he was sane enough in Mabden terms. And this was, after all, now a Mabden world. He must learn to accept its peculiar disorders as normal, if he were going to survive.

Law and Chaos? I said. They're not the same as good and evil, I'm told. Merciful heavens, no! Not at all. Not at all. Evil is a cruel and selfish thing. Chaos can be wild and generous, and just as some Lords of Law are self-sacrificing and concerned for others, so are some Lords of Chaos.

Best believe our fates are our own, even if the evidence denies it.

Meaning, Elric? Do not seek that, for madness lies in such a course.

Gods are but metaphors. said Orland Frank. As metaphors they might be very acceptable - but they should never be allowed to become beings in their own right.

We found a city of women. Not one Eldren man had remained. Not one boy over twelve. Not one old man of any age. We had slain them all at sea.

I thought Chaos all howling, random creativity," said Corum. "This is worse." "It is what becomes of a place when Chaos exhausts its invention," Jhary told him. "Ultimately, Chaos brings a more profound stagnation than anything it despises in Law. It must forever seek more and more sensation, more and more empty marvels, until there is nothing left and it has forgotten what true invention is.

Fenki: 'It would be rude to interrupt the Night Worms when they feast on your tasty blood ...

and then, from that dungeon in the West, There rises up a melody, beguiling and forlorn. It is the sweet, sad, self-deceiving murderer's song, And it will not end 'til morn . . .' -- Wheldrake, The Prisoners

And that is one thing that no amount of freedom or "licence" or "permissiveness" or whatever the old fogies call it can cope with. That is the odd assumption found in the twentieth century (I wonder if you who read this will know what those two stupid words mean?):

Tanelorn had taken many forms in her endless existence, but all those forms, save one, had been beautiful.

His little black-and-white cat with the black-and-white wings would fly through the rooms sometimes, but most often it would be discovered sleeping somewhere where it was most inconvenient for it to sleep. And

It is ironic that I saved both myself and those I cared for by recalling, at the crucial moment, my identity as an ordinary mortal. There are subtle dangers to the role of hero. I am glad I no longer have to consider them.

Elric knew. The sword told him, without words of any sort. Stormbringer needed to fight, for that was its reason for existence. Stormbringer needed to kill, for that was its source of energy, the lives and the souls of men, demons—even gods.

One day you will be taught that neutrality is more dangerous than side-taking, renegade. ~ Arioch, Lord of the Seven Darks.