Quotes About Fantasy

Le leggende e i miti che non esistevano ieri riprenderanno vita nel mondo di domani. Dopo un sonno di secoli, esseri malvagi, spietati e astuti si risveglieranno. L'ombra del Signore degli Inganni comincia a scendere sulle quattro Terre.

Perhaps it was all an elaborate charade of the sort envisioned by Miles, where the dragons were large iguanas and the knights and wizards were all supplied by Central Casting. Perhaps the dream was a sham, an imitation of what the imagination would have it truly be. Even if it were all real – if it were all as described, all as the artist had rendered it to be – still it might be less than the dream. It might be as ordinary in truth as his present life.

Everybody knows it. Wizards are supposed to have beards. It's common knowledge.

There is no place so dangerous as a world without magic.

Celebrating faith over reason is merely a way of denying what is, in favor of embracing any whim that strikes your fancy.

After last night, he felt that the first part, his fantasy of being with her, was just an empty wish.

Zedd stepped forward, his hands on his hips, his voice incredulous. "You would let a man fly upon you? A red dragon? You would take him where he wishes to go?" Scarlet puffed smoke at the wizard, forcing him to take a step back. "A man, no. This is the Seeker. He commands me. I would fly this one to the underworld and back.

Darkness began to gather, the magic of the scream taking the very light away, pulling the darkness as it was pulling the wind. Light and dark moved around the Mother Confessor as she released ancient magic into the scream.

Humans need fantasy to be human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.

You can't map a sense of humor. Anyway, what is a fantasy map but a space beyond which There Be Dragons? On the Discworld we know that There Be Dragons Everywhere. They might not all have scales and forked tongues, but they Be Here all right, grinning and jostling and trying to sell you souvenirs.

Twoflower was a tourist, the first ever seen on the discworld. Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant 'idiot'.

I'm not the world's greatest expert, but I would have thought that the wizards, witches, trolls, unicorns, ... broomsticks and spells would have given her a clue?' - when J.K. Rowling insisted she wasn't writing fantasy.

It's going to look pretty good, then, isn't it, said War testily, the One Horseman and Three Pedestrians of the Apocalypse.

This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs.

They may be called the Palace Guard, the City Guard, or the Patrol. Whatever the name, their purpose in any work of heroic fantasy is identical: it is, round about Chapter Three (or ten minutes into the film) to rush into the room, attack the hero one at a time, and be slaughtered. No one ever asks them if they want to. This book is dedicated to those fine men.

It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself. But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple.

J.R.R. Tolkien has become a sort of mountain, appearing in all subsequent fantasy in the way that Mt. Fuji appears so often in Japanese prints. Sometimes it's big and up close. Sometimes it's a shape on the horizon. Sometimes it's not there at all, which means that the artist either has made a deliberate decision against the mountain, which is interesting in itself, or is in fact standing on Mt. Fuji.

Ankh-Morpork! Pearl of cities! This is not a completely accurate description, of course — it was not round and shiny — but even its worst enemies would agree that if you had to liken Ankh-Morpork to anything, then it might as well be a piece of rubbish covered with the diseased secretions of a dying mollusc.

Oh. I see. People don't want to see what can't possibly exist.

people didn't seem to be able to remember what it was like with the elves around. Life was certainly more interesting then, but usually because it was shorter. And it was more colorful, if you liked the color of blood.

Murder was in fact a fairly uncommon event in Ankh-Morpork, but there were a lot of suicides. Walking in the night-time alleyways of The Shades was suicide. Asking for a short in a dwarf bar was suicide. Saying 'Got rocks in your head?' to a troll was suicide. You could commit suicide very easily, if you weren't careful.

NO. YOU NEED TO BELIEVE IN THINGS THAT AREN'T TRUE. HOW ELSE CAN THEY BECOME?

I would like you to teach [the orcs] civilised behaviour, said Ladyship coldly. He appeared to consider this. Yes of course, I think that would be quite possible, he said. And who would you send to teach the humans?

Well,----me," he said. "A----ing wizard. I hate----ing wizards!" "You shouldn't----them, then," muttered one of his henchmen, effortlessly pronouncing a row of dashes.