Up and down," Meera would sigh sometimes as they walked, "then down and up. Then up and down again. I hate these stupid mountains of yours, Prince Bran.""Yesterday you said you loved them.""Oh, I do. My lord father told me about mountains, but I never saw one till now. I love them more than I can say."Bran made a face at her. "But you just said you hated them.""Why can't it be both?" Meera reached up to pinch his nose."Because they're different," he insisted. "Like night and day, or ice and fire.""If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.""One," his sister agreed, "but over wrinkled.

Fantastic literature has been especially prominent in times of unrest, when the older values have been overthrown to make way for the new; it has often accompanied or predicted change, and served to shake up rational Complacency, challenging reason and reminding man of his darker nature. Its popularity has had its ups and downs, and it has always been the preserve of a small literary minority. As a natural challenger of classical values, it is rarely part of a culture's literary mainstream, expressing the spirit of the age; but it is an important dissenting voice, a reminder of the vast mysteries of existence, sometimes truly metaphysical in scope, but more often merely riddling.

A grim expression came over Syah’s face. “The colt you speak of lost its mother during a storm. If this stallion was that colt, it is not just wild, it is insane. That horse will break your bones.” “And that will be a worthy end, a prince struck down by such a noble steed.”Fasime pushed himself off the support of the fence, but Oman grabbed his arm.“It’s not worth it, Brother.”“I can tame him.” “What will we tell Mother and Father if he kills you?” Oman questioned.“Tell them I gave my life with pride. Do not punish him if he kills me. Release him back into the wild, and my spirit will ride him into the mist.

So – I am n-nothing more than – than a bloody job?! On top of not knowing why you must look after me – you only jumped at the chance to help me because your – that V-Vampire thought you couldn’t?! What are you, some – some child?!”“I am no child, human!”“Oh I would not have thought so,” she breathed condescendingly sending his blood to boil despite the ring, “if it were not for the fact that only children react so wondrously juvenile when faced with such a choice! You bargain my life over a show of bravado! And where is your brother, Christian?! He has not been here to see your brilliant work as my watcher, has he?!

Why do you have such a nice Bible?” Kelsea asked.“The Bible is a book, Kelsea, a book that has influenced mankind for thousands of years. It deserves to be preserved in a good edition, just like any other important book.”“Do you believe it’s true?”“No.”“Then why did I have to read it?” Kelsea demanded, feeling resentful. It hadn’t been a particularly good book, and it was heavy; she had hauled the damned thing from room to room for days. “What was the point?”“To know your enemy, Kelsea. Even a book can be dangerous in the wrong hands, and when that happens, you blame the hands, but you also read the book.

Poor innocent little lambie," God said, shaking his head. "Telion. I made you people in My Image. I swear, and drink, and have sex. I even burp and fart, but I damn sure don't snore. You seriously think I mind if people I made to reflect me act like I do? Not hardly. And there's another bone I have to pick with you lot. Know why I don't mess with Amrontil for the most part? I'll tell you. You sorry fuckers forgot how to talk to Me and you completely fucking rejected My gifts. You grovel and beg and plead like you're talking to My asshole Brother Gabriel. Makes Me want to barf. Come on, people, get a backbone! And fucking get laid, would you? Uptight repressed bastards.

Anche se le fiamme dipingevano sul corpo di Kirien una miriade di sfumature diverse, la sua natura non era fatta per le mezze misure. Lui era come il deserto: crudele e inclemente. Arido, ma allo stesso tempo ricco. Nel momento in cui ti avvolgeva, ti costringeva a temerlo. Una volta che avevi assaporato le sue albe e la profondità dei suoi spazi, però, non potevi più farne a meno. E così si sentiva Tira in quel momento: spaventata dalla sua ruvidezza, ma allo stesso tempo affascinata da ciò che era certa si nascondesse oltre la spessa coltre di indifferenza e reticenza che lo costringeva a chinare la testa ed obbedire a qualsiasi ordine gli fosse stato dato.

Fantasy elevates ordinary and eternal problems of young people into stories via the language of myth. It turns “No one really knows me” into “I’ve got a secret identity.” It turns “I don’t understand why other people act the way they do” into “I’m trapped in a faerie realm.” It turns “my high school must have been built over the mouth of hell” into “my high school must have been built over the mouth of hell.” There are certain things in life that are glorious, and they are glorious for everyone. There are more that are hard, and they are hard for everyone. We like to see these things retold, but with dragons.

Non era stato coraggioso, restando lì fermo a farsi pungere - disse Coraline al gatto. - Non era stato coraggioso perché non aveva avuto paura: quella era l'unica cosa che potesse fare. Ma quando era tornato a riprendersi gli occhiali, sapendo che lì c'erano le vespe, aveva avuto veramente paura. Quello era stato vero coraggio. - Mosse il primo passo lungo il corridoio. Sentiva odore di chiuso, di polvere e di umidità. Il gatto avanzata lentamente accanto a lei. - E perché mai? - le domandò il gatto, con un tono che rivelava scarso interesse. - Perché - disse Coraline - quando hai paura di qualcosa, ma la fai comunque, quello è coraggio.

Female Mercenary. This will be a companion on your Tour. She is usually tall, thin and wiry, silent, and neurotic. Sex scares her. This is because she either came from a nunnery or was raped as a child. Or both. Somehow this inspired her to become a mercenary and she is very good at her job. You can rely on her absolutely in a fight. She can usually kill two people at once while guarding your back in between. The rest of the time, she will irritate you with lots of punctilious weapons cleaning and a perpetual insistence that a proper watch be kept. Mostly, she will have no magic talents, but sometimes, in an emergency, she will come up with a gift or vision. You will end up grudgingly admiring her.

Gabby,” Jenna cried. “It’s so horrible. I can’t believe this happened.”“Jenna,” I said in a soothing voice, “I’m alive and okay. No worries.”She sniffled into the phone. “No, it’s not that.”I waited a beat. “What?”“The bridesmaid dresses are all wrong!” she wailed.“Wait a second,” I said. “You aren’t upset over my being dead for four days?”“I knew you’d be fine,” she explained, brushing off the subject. “But these dresses? I don’t know what to do. They’re the wrong color, and they’re hideous!” She went into a hysterical fit of tears.

It's like Dungeons and Dragons, but real."Jace was looking at Simon as if he were some bizarre species of insect. "It's like what?""It's a game," Clary explained. She felt vaguely embarrassed. "People pretend to be wizards and elves, and they kill monsters and stuff."Jace looked stupefied.Simon grinned. "you've never hear of Dungeon and Dragons?""I've heard of dungeons," Jace said. "Also dragons. Although they're mostly extinct."Simon looked disappointed. "You've never killed a dragon?""He's probably never met a six-foot-tall hot elf-woman in a fur bikini, either," Clary said irritably. "Lay off, Simon.""Real elves are about eight inches tall," Jace pointed out. "Also, they bite.

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.

On my seventh birthday, my father swore, for the first of many times, that I would die facedown in a cesspool. On that same occasion, my mother, with all the accompanying mystery and elevated language appropriate for a prominent diviner, turned her cards, screamed delicately, and proclaimed that my doom was written in water and blood and ice. As for me, from about that time and for twenty years since, I had spat on my middle finger and slapped the rump of every aingerou I noticed, murmuring the sincerest, devoutest prayer that I might prove my parents' predictions wrong. Not so much that I feared the doom itself - doom is just the hind end of living, after all - but to see the two who birthed me confounded.

The Boy’s head was spinning. Raul was real, and quite possibly not kindly disposed to him, as Marama’s potential heir and jail-breaker. The sailors worshiped Marama, who controlled the tides and commanded them through dreams? The Geolwe collected clouds and lived in the sky? And did the captain just say there were mountains in the sea? Did he mean under the water? Downing the drink in front of him, he began to laugh. It was all just so hopelessly un-real. Anselt and the captain stared for a moment, then found his mirth infectious. Before long they were laughing too, and the sound of their merriment sailed through the night and out to greet the rolling waves, wrapping itself around the ship like a cloud.