I have stolen princesses back from sleeping barrow kings. I burned down the town of Trebon. I have spent the night with Felurian and left with both my sanity and my life. I was expelled from the University at a younger age than most people are allowed in. I tread paths by moonlight that others fear to speak of during day. I have talked to gods, loved women, and written songs that make the minstrels weep. You may have heard of me.
women life adventure age people fantasy fear songs night day sleeping gods sanity university speak weep tales written kings paths left moonlight
In the afternoon, they stopped to eat on a rocky outcrop. Perry brushed a kiss on her cheek while she was chewing, and she learned that it was the loveliest thing to be kissed for no reason, even while chewing food. It brightened the woods, and the never sky, and everything.
food adventure fantasy sci-fi reason sky romance eat kiss dystopian afternoon woods learned thing post-apocalyptic
Beware, Underlanders, time hangs by a thread. The hunters are hunted, white water runs red. The Gnawers will strike to extinguish the rest. The hope of the hopeless resides in a quest. An Overland warrior, a son of the sun, May bring us back light, he may bring us back none. But gather your neighbors and follow his callOr rats will most surely devour us all. Two over, two under, of royal descent, Two flyers, two crawlers, two spinners assent. One gnawer beside and one lost up ahead. And eight will be left when we count up the dead. The last who will die must decide where he stands. The fate of the eight is contained in his hands. So bid him take care, bid him look where he leaps, As life may be death and death life again reaps.
fate life adventure death time rest light fantasy fiction book darkness lost sun water count care son hands dead hopeless die neighbors warrior white quest red left hope prophecy
All that we know, soon shall we abandon. As time will lend itself. Eyes know only what they see. But brave hearts beat on with belief.
magic belief adventure time fantasy hearts eyes brave young-adult-fiction beat
With his revelation,..I shattered into a million shards. I felt each piece as it splintered and separated from the whole like a glass I had broken the day before. Debris flew everywhere. It left me without any option but to pick each broken piece up, analyze it, and find out where it belonged. I had to find out where I belonged. Allison La Crosse - Warriors of the Cross
medical adventure fantasy religious cross glass revelation day paranormal-romance broken find left warriors
She was neither white nor black, Fyre nor Aquanite; she was a dame of the White King, and it was up to her, and her alone, to choose what path her life would take.
choice race life adventure fantasy black king choose path coming-of-age white
With favoring winds, o'er sunlit seas, We sailed for the Hesperides, The land where golden apples grow; But that, ah! That was long ago. How far, since then, the ocean streamsHave swept us from that land of dreams, That land of fiction and of truth, The lost Atlantis of our youth!Whither, ah, whither? Are not theseThe tempest-haunted Orcades, Where sea-gulls scream, and breakers roar, And wreck and sea-weed line the shore?Ultima Thule! Utmost Isle!Here in thy harbors for a whileWe lower our sails; a while we restFrom the unending, endless quest.
dreams adventure truth youth fantasy fiction lost grow ocean land quest scream
What I knew, adored, and fell for was a fantasy. He did not exist in human terms.
chance friendship life chaos writing adventure faith happiness history art identity fantasy creativity human stories writing-life passion future past inspirational moving-on living friends self-help believe hate ideas loss broken-heart risk writer remember writers-block writers-on-writing discovery writing-process lovers addiction truths breaking-up love-hurts being exist journal love-at-first-sight breakups writing-style writers-quotes addicts broken-hearted-quotes lovers-love-story lovers-quarrels lovers-sadness youth-age broken-hearted good-morning journaling journalist writers-life writers-world writing-books
Loin au-del? Des montagnes froides et embruméesVers des cachots profonds et d'antiques cavernesIl nous faut aller avant le lever du jourEn quête de l'or pâle et enchanté. Les nains de jadis jetaient de puissants charmesQuand les marteaux tombaient comme des cloches sonnantesEn des lieux profonds, où dorment les choses ténébreusesDans les salles caverneuses sous les montagnes. Pour un antique roi et un seigneur lutin, L?, maints amas dorés et miroitantsIls façonnèrent, et forgèrent, et la lumière ils attrapèrentPour la cacher dans les gemmes sur la garde de l'épée. Sur des colliers d'argent ils enfilèrentLes étoiles en fleur; sur des couronnes ils accrochèrentLe feu-dragon; en fils torsadés ils maillèrentLa lumière de la lune et du soleil. Loin au-del? Des montagnes froides et embruméesVers des cachots profonds et d'antiques cavernesIl nous faut aller avant le lever du jourPour réclamer notre or longtemps oublié. Des gobelets ils ciselèrent l? Pour eux-mêmesEt des harpes d'or; où nul homme ne creuseLongtemps ils sont restés, et maintes chansonsFurent chantées, inentendues des hommes ou des elfes. Les pins rugissaient sur les cimes, Les vents gémissaient dans la nuit. Le feu était rouge, il s'étendait flamboyant; Les arbres comme les torches étincelaient de lumière. Les cloches sonnaient dans la valléeEt les hommes levaient des visages pâles; Alors, du dragon la colère plus féroce que le feuAbattit leurs tours et leurs maisons frêles. La montagne fuma sous la lune; Les nains, ils entendirent le pas pesant du destin. Ils fuirent leurs demeures pour tomber mourants Sous ses pieds, sous la lune. Loin au-del? Des montagnes froides et embruméesVers des cachots profonds et des cavernes obscures, Il nous faut aller avant le lever du jourPour gagner sur lui nos harpes et notre or !
adventure fantasy song dragon
Books pull you to other worlds.. Let them, and enjoy the adventure.
adventure enjoy fantasy inspirational worlds books
A feeling rose in me, and I just let it, because what harm could it do? It only had another thirty-two adagio bars of life in this world. Twenty-four. Sixteen. Eight more bars in which I love you. Three. Two. One.
life adventure fantasy world feeling romance harm rose love
There are storm clouds before the storm, there are the living before the dead. I need a figurehead, a banner bearer who will announce my arrival to the world.
heroes adventure fantasy world living clouds dragons storm dead
Relate comic things in pompous fashion. Irregularity, in other words the unexpected, the surprising, the astonishing, are essential to and characteristic of beauty. Two fundamental literary qualities: supernaturalism and irony. The blend of the grotesque and the tragic are attractive to the mind, as is discord to blasé ears. Imagine a canvas for a lyrical, magical farce, for a pantomime, and translate it into a serious novel. Drown the whole thing in an abnormal, dreamy atmosphere, in the atmosphere of great days the region of pure poetry.
poetry writing discord mind beauty art days fantasy creativity tragic fashion writers unexpected magical words literary irony imagine pure novel things qualities farce essential great thing comic attractive ears grotesque
Tattooing, when understood in its entirety, must be seen as a religious act. The human being brings forth images from the center of the self and communicates them to the world. Fantasy is embodied in reality and the person is made whole.
art fantasy human reality world religious person artists tattoo act made images
He possessed the logic of all good intentions and a knowledge of all the tricks of his trade, and yet he never succeeded at anything, because he believed too much in the impossible. Surprising? Why so? He was forever in the act of conceiving it!
failure writing art fantasy creativity good knowledge writers logic intentions act forever impossible tricks trade
But if what interests you are stories of the fantastic, I must warn you that this kind of story demands more art and judgment than is ordinarily imagined.
writing art fantasy stories kind judgment story writers supernatural fantastic genre interests horror
Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.
art fantasy reason arts mother artists monsters impossible abandoned
I opened the door and stepped in. Raw pain filled me at the sight of my painting. 'Show me what it looked like, before the fire.' His request surprised me, but I did as he asked. With eyes closed, I projected the exact details of the painting I had poured my soul into. Just as I had experienced his love of surfing in a visceral way, he shared not just the visual beauty of my work, but the love and passion with which I had dedicated myself to it. 'Thank you. Now, it will never truly be gone.' I choked back a sob and went to Mr. K's office.
door pain work beauty art soul fantasy passion relationships romance young-adult fire science-fiction paranormal eyes painting sight love surfing details
They were rebellious through their artistic expression and their uplifting spirits
art fantasy uplifting fiction expression young-adult artistic fantasy-fiction young-adult-fantasy young-adult-fiction spirits
A steampunk nationBaby pollution rises up then the loving comes arraigning 'causeOur art's official and only partially artificialAnd our heart's in the middle of sharp hardened shards of metal butThere's not where it settlesBecause it's beating to the steaming of God's hottest pot or kettleAnd now we face it, this creation we made toTo save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it'sOur safeway they make into a pathetic revelationIn our steampunk nationOur steampunk nation
poetry imagination patriotism art fantasy creation heart lyrics loving poem song romance revelation nation nationalism rhyme urban-fantasy face rhythm patriotic metal songwriting punk rebel steampunk patriot made urban save god pollution
The finished clock is resplendent. At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and a silver pendulum. Well crafted, obviously, with intricately carved woodwork edges and a perfectly painted face, but just a clock. But that is before it is wound. Before it begins to tick, the pendulum swinging steadily and evenly. Then, then it becomes something else. The changes are slow. First, the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. Meanwhile, bits of the body of the clock expand and contract, like pieces of a puzzle. As though the clock is falling apart, slowly and gracefully. All of this takes hours. The face of the clock becomes a darker grey, and then black, with twinkling stars where numbers had been previously. The body of the clock, which has been methodically turning itself inside out and expanding, is now entirely subtle shades of white and grey. And it is not just pieces, it is figures and objects, perfectly carved flowers and planets and tiny books with actual paper pages that turn. There is a silver dragon that curls around part of the now visible clockwork, a tiny princess in a carved tower who paces in distress, awaiting an absent prince. Teapots that pour into teacups and minuscule curls of steam that rise from them as the seconds tick. Wrapped presents open. Small cats chase small dogs. An entire game of chess is played. At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler. Dress in harlequin style with a grey mask, he juggles shiny silver balls that correspond to each hour. As the clock chimes, another ball joins the rest until at midnight he juggles twelve balls in a complex pattern. After midnight, the clock begins once more to fold in upon itself. The face lightens and the cloud returns. The number of juggled balls decreases until the juggler himself vanishes. By noon it is a clock again, and no longer a dream.
numbers style chase change time rest game art live chess fantasy body clouds color dream cats stars black prince small dragon flowers dogs pieces mask falling face open wound complex princess bird white inside clock cloud part pages paper dress tower books side rise visible
I try to deny myself any illusions or delusions, and I think that this perhaps entitles me to try and deny the same to others, at least as long as they refuse to keep their fantasies to themselves.
religion fantasy illusions atheism delusions
Personally, I think the 'Christian family' should be called a Christian fantasy.
family christianity fantasy bible atheism christian
Every time the sky cries, it is because an angel has died.. Lucifer started a war in Heaven, and it persists even now. So if God cannot keep his angels under control, what makes you believe that he can keep humanity under control?
time war fantasy human-nature humanity control heaven sky angels angel lucifer god atheism
If you surround yourself with the good and righteous, they can only raise you up. If you surround yourself with the others, they will drag you down into the doldrums of mediocrity, and they will keep you there, but only as long as you permit it.
reading politics people family fantasy parents friends good book teenagers novel teens righteous mediocrity books
Showing 151 to 175 of 985 results
You must log in to post a comment.
There are no comments yet.