Quotes About Fantasy

It's so much easier to convince yourself you're madly in love with someone when you know nothing about him.

Most happy stories are fantasies that never happened. A form of wish fulfillment. (...) Telling happy stories that actually happened lends a sort of fairy-tale quality to real life. They remind the teller and the listener of the magic that can be found in the mundane if you pay close attention.

So where should we go at it?' asked Bastian. 'Anywhere you want me,' I murmured, dreamily. 'Pardon?' 'Anywhere,' I said. 'Why don't we start in a familiar place, so we are not nervous our first time?' I have to remind myself that this is real, and not part of the daydream. He's talking about the Storytelling Project. Not sex.

Before you enter the forest, you must leave your mind outside, because in the land of fairy tales there is no need for it!

Life is a dream and autumn is a dream within dream!

He had fought wizards (though not because he wished to), battled goblinkin (only because running hadn't been an option at the time), and faced incredible monsters (drat the luck he sometimes had when he thought about it).

Was he even planning on coming to meet me? Or did he change his mind at the last minute? Did he decide he liked me better at a distance? That meeting the real me would ruin his fantasy? And what about my fantasy? That there was a real man out there who saw me. A man who couldn't stop thinking about me. A man who made me feel like a woman worthy of being obsessed about.

I´d read fantasy if they had simple names like Jane and Bob from Wagga," I say. "Why does it have to be Tehrana and Bihaad from the World of Sceehina?" Jimmy looks at my mother and rolls his eyes. "No wonder they call her bimbo behind her back." And my mum laughs. And because of that, Mark Viduka, the soccer player, stops being my brothers hero, and Luca and Pinocchio run after Jimmy like he´s their idol.

Webb read fantasy; Jude read realism

I'd read fantasy if they had simple names like Jane and Bob from Wagga,' I say. 'Why does it have to be Tehrana and Bihaad from the World of Sceehina?

I was always a sci-fi and fantasy geek. I was in the 'Lord of the Rings' club and all my cool friends made fun of me.

I was thinking it was worth the risk if it meant forever with my faery girlfriend.

Bananach sits on your throne, has declared herself Dark Queen." "She WHAT!?" Niall- or perhaps Irial-asked.

Fairy tales were stupid. And dangerous.

Hobbits, just another Tolkien Minority

En la época colonial sucedió lo mismo. Los leones me recuerdan a los soldados del ejército portugués. Habíamos fantaseado tanto con esos portugueses que se volvieron poderosos. Los portugueses no tenían fuerza para ganarnos. Por eso, hicieron que sus víctimas se matasen a sí mismas. Y nosotros, negros, aprendimos a odiarnos a nosotros mismos.

Jabberwocky, causing serious mayhem.

You want me to be your boyfriend, don't you?" Puck taunted. His wings suddenly popped out of his back and he swooped over to Sabrina. Before she knew how to react, the boy kissed her on the lips. A million thoughts ran through Sabrina's head at once. Puck was annoying. He had dumped her in vats of disgusting glop. He'd put creepy crawlers in her bed. But the most awful thought of them all was the one about the kiss—it was nice.

The Three isn't a person, they're a coven of witches; Glinda the Good Witch of the North, Morgan Le Fay, and the gingerbread house witch, Frau Pfefferkuchenhaus.

LEPRECHAUN GOLD; FLOOR PLANS FOR GINGERBREAD HOUSES; TALKING FISH; GHOSTS OF CHRISTMAS PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE; TIK-TOK MEN;

opened the cover and saw a crude drawing of a giant kitten chewing on several screaming farmers

In a daydream sort of way, I think it would be pretty cool to direct a movie. But I have been on movie and TV sets and know it is hard work. I like directing it in my mind. It is easier.

It is about a dragon and a prince and a princess." "Oh, lovely! Does it end happily?" "Happily for the humans. Not so well for the dragon." "Just as it should be. Commence.

Is this, then, the source of the primal wound—the sense of fatherlessness? The wound makes one vulnerable to a lie: you have no father, there is no fatherhood, the universe is abandoned. The wound begets loneliness. Loneliness seeks relief in the theater of the imagination. The imagination ferments a romance. Then romance, impelled by the generative powers of the body, gradually degenerates into erotic fantasy.