Quotes About Fantasy

Quentin had an obsolete sailing ship that had been raised from the dead. He had psychotically effective swordsman and an enigmatic witch-queen. It wasn't the Fellowship of the Ring, but then again he wasn't trying to save the world from Sauron, he was trying to perform a tax audit on a bunch of hick islanders…

When the oldest Chatwin, melancholy Martin, opens the cabinet of the grandfather clock that stands in a dark, narrow back hallway in his aunt's house and slip through into Fillory...it's like he's opening the covers of a book, but a book that did what books always promised to do and never ac tually quite did: get you out, really out, of where you were and into something better.

They were where he went when he couldn't deal with the real world, which was a lot.

Plum guessed it stood to reason that out of all these billions of books at least one of them had to be dragon porn.

Guy lives in a fantasy world without junk food or cars or trans fats or TV and he's still fat. You had to admire his dedication to the cause.

With maaaaaaaaaagic!

The others were conspicuously silent, or talked among themselves, elaborately play-acting that they were unaware of the fact that Quentin was conversing with a drunk magic bear.

Fuck love, fuck marriage, fuck children, fuck fucking itself: this was his romance, this fantasy land at whose helm he sat, steering it on and on into the future, world without end, until he died and tastefully idealized statues were made of him. It was all he needed. It was all he would ever need.

Now he knew his way around a ward-and-shield or two. He could chuck a magic missile with the best of them. He was a damn one-man magic-missile crisis.

Wait a minute," Quentin said. "Who or what is the Thames dragon?" "The Thames dragon," Eliot said. "You know. The dragon who lives in the Thames.

Whether or not he was in it, whether or not he could see or touch it, he'd thought there would always be a FIllory out there somewhere. He loved knowing it was there. It anchored his sense of happiness, the way a distant stockpile of gold might underwrite the value of a paper bill.

You only had to see a unicorn lay open the side of a centaur once, the ribcage flashing white when the ripped skin flopped down, to swear a mighty oath never to fuck with or even look at another unicorn again. I'm putting down the hearts and fluffy clouds and backing away slowly. Don't want any trouble here. You can have all the rainbows.

Nothing happened, then broke Poppys hand the smoth surface like the Lady in the lake, except thst the hand, instead of holding a magical sword, in this case only did a big, entusiastic thumb up-sign

Living in a castle is objectively romantic.

it's like he's opening the covers of a book, but a book that did what books always promised to do and never actually quite did: get you out, really out, of where you were and into somewhere better.

But it wasn't going to kill him. It wasn't sexy, but it was real, and that was what mattered now. No more fantasies—that was life after Fillory.

Clouds in Fillory weren't clammy and disappointing the way they were in the real world, they brushed past you all warm and soft and cottony, just solid enough to be comforting. Fuck love, fuck marriage, fuck children, fuck fucking itself: this was his romance, this fantasy land at whose helm he sat, steering it on and on into the future, world without end, until he died and tastefully idealized statues were made of him.

The Deeper Magic always seemed to come up when Ember didn't feel like doing something, or needed to close a plot hole.

Humbledrum farted mournfully, three distinct notes.

Lev Grossman

Lev Grossman

Turns out you can cast some truly amazing shit in your dreams. But after you wake up it all seems kind of pointless, and nobody really wants to hear about it.

What about Josh?" he croaked. "Go ask him." "He's got another project." Janet rolled her eyes. "He thinks he can use the Neitherlands to get to Middle-earth. He honestly believes he's going to bone an elf." "I

Men han ville ogärna vara orsaken till att någon dog. Det här var inte Tolkien - de var inga orker, troll, jättespindlar eller andra onda varelser som det stod en fritt att begå massmord på utan besvärliga komplikationer. Orker hade inte fru och barn pch en bakgrundshistoria.