Quotes About Mythical

Children are infinitely credulous. My Lisa was a dull child, but even so she came up with things that pleased and startled me. 'Are there dragons?' she asked. I said that there were not. 'Have there ever been?' I said all the evidence was to the contrary. 'But if there is a word dragon,' she said, 'then once there must have been dragons.

Beyond the wild animals that posed a regular safety concern anywhere in Kenya, it was believed that the high elevation of Kijabe would leave the missionaries susceptible to "Kenya nerves" –a mythical neurological disorder that led to acute anxiety and other psychologically linked ailments. p21

I can see that the sadness has returned. And it's not a beautiful sadness- beautiful sadness is a myth. Sadness turns our features to clay, not porcelain.

Beautiful sadness is a myth. Sadness turns our features to clay, not porcelain.

The centuries roll back to the ancient age of gold.

When dragons fight, everyone burns.

Vampires have always held a very seductive kind of lore and have always been some variety of attractive, whether it's attractiveness that's born of just the physical attributes that they have - this kind of ethereal beauty or translucent pallor - or whether it is more to do with the way they carry themselves.

A mermaid's tears are precious. Sea glass is said to be made of mermaid tears.

I'm not so much a dragon slayer, more a dragon annoyer -- I'm a dragon irritater.

The past is another land, and we cannot go to visit. So, if I say there were dragons, and men who rode upon their backs, who alive has been there and can tell me that I'm wrong?

There were dragons when I was a boy.

'Goldenheart' is like a modern-day Joan of Arc. Think of it like medieval times-cum-2045 or Lancelot and Guinevere in 3025. It's a new version of these battles - age-old stories for the now.

I discovered Los Angeles in the late '90s. The city was not at its best at the time, but I fell for it right away. There is something almost haunted about it, a vibrant mythology I find rather inspiring.

She had made Matthew want to smile. With her luminous skin, her exotic cinnamon-colored eyes and quicksilver expressions, Daisy Bowman seemed to have come from an enchanted forest populated with mythical creatures.

She gave him a smile that crinkled her nose and tip-tilted her eyes. It made him a wee bit dizzy, that smile. It fed sunshine into his veins. He was dazzled by her, thinking she could have been some mythical creature. A fairy or even a goddess. Not some coldly aloof and perfect goddess... but a small and merry one.

It was an octopus with one eye. A Cyclops octopus. I'd call it a cyclopoctopus until a better name came along.

Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.

Unicorns, I said. Very dangerous. You go first.

Investigate the faeries. Great. That was absolutely guaranteed to get complicated before I got any useful answers. If there was one thing faeries hated doing, it was giving you a straight answer, about anything. Getting plain speech out out of one is like pulling out teeth. Your own teeth. Through your nose.

Holy water, a couple cloves of garlic, vials of salt, and iron fillings filled the basket, intended to be door prizes for anything that showed up in an attempt to suck my blood, carry me off to faerieland, or sell me stale cookies.

The Sidhe are prancy, but fierce.

The Fomor had released the freaking kraken.

What followed was . . . one of those things I still have dreams about sometimes. It was like looking at something straight out of mythology.

she told me she'd be a phoenix. The image of the mythical creature rising from the ashes glitters in my mind. They don't really exist. She said that depends on whether or not there's someone who can see them.