Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.
George R.R. Martin
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one.
reading man readers reading-books lives read reader
A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.
mind sword books
Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.
strength weakness identity world hurt forget
Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?''That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him.
man time courage thought bravery fear brave father afraid
The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real.. For a moment at least.. That long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true? We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La. They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.
dreams magic moment fantasy language real reality true earth heaven songs gold sweet strong ancient wings deep night end day child summer find south alive forever die taste colors read written hear meat red love forests stones feast wake
Winter is coming.
winter
Fear cuts deeper than swords.
bravery fear swords
Sleep is good, he said, And books are better.
reading sleep good books
He understood the way that you could sometimes fall right into them, as if each page was a hole into another world.
reading world fall books
Sure, I knew the differences between a space opera and a hard-boiled detective story and a historical novel.. But I never about such differences. It seemed to me, then as now, that there are good stories and bad stories, and that was the only distinction that truly mattered.
reading stories differences good historical story bad space distinction opera detective hard-boiled books
life fantasy reality gold sweet end summer fantasy-fiction meat red books
My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind.. And a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep it's edge.
weapon mind sword king brother books
Books are dead men talking.
men talking dead books
Sam loved to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside the cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and blueberry tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing, clumsy as he was.
music songs dancing drinking sam listen play passions rich kittens interests books kitchen
Was there ever a war where only one side bled?
death war side
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