Quotes About Fantasy

Estoy mirando a todos los que han querido acompañarnos en esta velada, y quisiera decirles que no veo un auditorio lleno de parisinos ataviados con sombreros de copas, joyas y vestidos de seda. No veo banqueros, amas de casa o dependientes. No. Hoy me dirijo a ustedes viéndolos como lo que realmente son: sirenas, viajeros, aventureros y magos. Ustedes son los verdaderos soñadores.

As I look out at you all gathered here I want to say that I don't see a room full of Parisians in top hats and diamonds and silk dresses. I don't see bankers and housewives and store clerks. No. I address you all tonight as you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventures, and magicians. You are the true dreamers.

I address you all tonight for who you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, and magicians. You are the true dreamers.

If you've ever wondered where your dreams come from when you go to sleep at night, just look around. This is where they are made.

Fairy tales only happen in movies." -George Melies from The Invention of Hugo Cabret

Like a mermaid rising from an ocean of paper, the girl emerged across the room.

He began talking to an imagined woman, achieving an eloquence that was never his when he was face to face with anyone else.

en mi ficción intento poner límites al elemento disparate. Dragones, vampiros, duendes, espadas que cantan, etcétera, no tienen cabida en ella. Pese a todas mis aspiraciones a la locura, persiste en mí una vieja veta racionalista.

What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.

This farce with "Titania and Alfred" is not as trivial as it may at first glance seem in the context of a biography. It characterized Elisabeth's relations with her admirers, as well as her inability to separate reality from fantasy. The fact that she spent many hours composing the Alfred poems shows the extent of her isolation.

My intent was to write a story that would become a true legend, so it was important to me to present Holly Claus's story as a legend, a fantasy that would become a part of the culture… a tradition…a classic. I want Holly's story to endure for generations." — Brittney Ryan

If a book is made up of things that are hard to believe, then we were like something out of a book.

I confess this is an unforeseen -- unforeseen and, indeed, I did not foresee it -- by-product of journaling: in writing down the facts of one's feelings, one might leave out facts, and one might also try to convince oneself that one's fantasy is, in fact, one's fact, or at least a fact among other facts, other facts that are, in fact, facts, making it most difficult to tell the fact from the fantasy.

Peter stood, cleared his throat, and began to hum softly, then sing, slowly building up the song as his voice cleared. He found the old tune, the song of the Sunbird. And as he sung, as his rich voice echoed off the tall cliffs, the birds and the faeries lent him their voice and soon the tune drifted throughtout the garden.

Peter had two short swords strapped on his back, the belts crisscrossing his chest bandito style. A black splash of war paint covered his face, and his golden eyes gleamed out from the paint. He pulled his swords free, clanged them together, and all the Devils lined up on either side of him. (the Child Thief)

I never liked Jules Verne, believing that the real was always more fantastic than the fantastical.

I am ignoring you. In fact, I think you are a figment of my imagination.

How in the world do you tellyour wife that her mother was born a unicon?

Still, the painful death of that unicorn had been satisfying to watch

This fixation of desire upon beauty in fantasy leads to a kind of living death or, as Lacan calls it, a "zone of encroachment of death upon life" (p. 331/285). This is perhaps "the place of desire insofar as it is a desire for nothing

Fantasy provides the pleasure peculiar to desire. -Lacan, Ecrits, 773

Magical Realist writer write the ordinary as miraculous and the miraculous as ordinary.

He dreamed in ticker tape and calliope colors.

The Dark Girl laughed aloud, revealing a gray mouthful of sharp, serrated teeth. "You ask me to prophesy? I am the Mother of Fantasies, the Mother of Faith, Hope, and the Church." De Maillet stared, clutching his ebony cane to his chest. "You are Ignorance.