Fantasy World Quotes

“When the rush of the weak sweeps over those that strive to be strong, its destruction. The commonplaces of moral judgment become fogged with the lack of perception stained with the sting of longing. The voice of reason is lost in the envious echoes of hearts torn by battle. The song of our children echo the misfortune of their parent's haze---we all started out small and had dreams to become something more than what we were.”
― Shannon L. Alder

“Black people live their whole lives in a fantasy world, it's just not their fantasy.”
― Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue

“I wish to live in the world behind my eyes. It is a wondrous world; one worthy of dreams. Worthier still of bringing to life.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year

“So, day after day, he lived in the grey phantasmal world, akin to death, that has, somehow, with most of us, made good its claim to be called life.”
― Arthur Machen, The White People and Other Weird Stories

“She had memories of a quiet pool in the woods, where she'd retreat with her books, hiding from chores that needed to be done around the house. She remembered the sound of her parents after sunset, calling her to come home. The fireflies would flicker around her as it became too dark to read, but still she'd stay, to watch the fireflies over the water and listen to the birds and the squirrels settle in for the night and the night hunters, the owls and and the cats, begin to wake. Once, she'd even glimpsed a unicorn sipping from the pond, but it could have been only a white deer and a trick of the twilight. Another afternoon, her father had come with her, avoiding his chores too. They'd read books side by side, and her mother hadn't said a word when they'd returned. A week later, her mother had been the one to join her by the pond, arriving with lunch in a basket and presenting Kiela with a new unread book, a rare treasure on the island.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Spellshop

“After many missions in a plethora of peculiar realms, he’d managed to keep the fear of monsters locked away, but his own evil terrified him more than any demon.
Snow fell hard, bodies fell harder.
The snow was blue here, a shade lighter than the crystalline trees surrounding them. They were in the ice jungle of Eltika, where the undergrowth was littered with a thousand ice shards and the tree vines emitted vapour cold enough to cause frostbite.
Arantay took time to survey the battle before his next opponent.”
― Will Collins, A Darker Shade of Sorcery

“Even the Doughskins had to admit it: in this world, only stone could claim to last.”
― Cornelia Funke, Reckless

“Three out of five. Those were the odds. Three out of five new recruits would die within their first cycle as a Hunter.”
― Hannah Heath, Colors of Fear

“Lungs burning, he charged forward, shadows gathering around him. Perhaps he could outrun them. But he'd never been able to before.”
― Hannah Heath, Colors of Fear

“Wood and fabric, a symbol of a time long gone. That was not where Masiah dwelled. Not in a temple. Not high up in the oasis hills, as some claimed. If he dwelled anywhere at all, it was not in this forsaken oasis.”
― Hannah Heath, Colors of Fear

“Edwards knew that the constant spending and deliberate time-wasting was taking a toll. 'I know that if I get to the end of this year I'll have no dignity left at all,' he said. 'It's all gone. I live in a big fantasy world... It's sad.' He'd often end the day drinking even more to block out the world and allow him to get to sleep.”
― Rob Jovanovic, A Version of Reason: In Search of Richey Edwards

“The sky is diluted scarlet. It is an oddity, a noticeable wound in the fabric of our world. In specific areas, like Solange’s island, it stands out like a blooming flower in a dying garden.”
― Ilse V. Rensburg, Time Torn

“Is there really such a place as the edge of the sea, where half-moon and sea creatures meet? Perhaps, we will never know. Or perhaps you are here to find out.”
― Rae Knightly, Ben Archer and the World Beyond

“Soon, she was singing along, tweaking the song as she watched the sun rise over the King's City below. As she sang, her gaze wandered over the shining white walls of the palace beyond the dome. She thought of the Wood King sitting on his white throne. Of candlelit halls and attendants fluttering like moths. Of Claw's silver snout emerging from the shadows, and Rooke falling to his knees before Bog, and that creepy wall of skulls in the crypt...
It was habitual. Whenever she sang a song for the first time, she sealed a memory inside the melody. Like a gift she was packaging for her future self. She'd been doing it for as long as she could remember.
From now on, whenever she sang this song, she would come back to this moment, looking out over the King's City. She would remember the things that happened here.”
― Kristen Ciccarelli, Edgewood

“Do you like horses?"
"Truth be told, the only thing I love more is dragons."
Wren whistles, and a whinny resounds throughout the air.
I spin around, marveling as a horse gallops through the field of jasmine. She's like a bolt of obsidian in a blanket of white, her breaths like little gusts of wind. She rears several times once she's next to Wren, stomping her front hooves until he reaches out to pet her. "This is Nerra. She will take us where we must go."
Like an acrobat performing a trick for the umpteenth time, Wren hops onto Nerra's back effortlessly. He reaches a hand out to me, and I climb on. He places my hands around his waist, and I swallow hard.
"Hold on tight. You're in for a treat," he says.
On the count of three, he kicks Nerra into a gallop. The horse is like a dragon bound to the earth. Her gait is smooth, her gallop so strong it practically feels like she's trying to take flight with each stride. I hold on tightly to Wren.
We head north. Dressed in bright garments that appear to be dipped in a ray of sunlight, Emerald flitters around as we enter a field of daisies.
"Hi," Wren says. "We're on our way to see Omniscius."
Emerald gives a graceful nod, following behind Nerra with several other fairies. Much to my delight, as we exit the field of daisies and encroach on a field of red roses, the fairies' beautiful yellow garments turn red. Wren's shirt and my dress do the same.”
― Khalia Moreau, The Princess of Thornwood Drive