They kissed for the first time then in the cold spring rain, though neither one of them now knew that it was raining. Tristran's heart pounded in his chest as if it was not big enough to contain all the joy that it held. He opened his eyes as he kissed the star. Her sky-blue eyes stared back into his, and in her eyes he could see no parting from her.
You think fairy tales are only for girls? Here’s a hint—ask yourself who wrote them. I assure you, it wasn’t just the women. It’s the great male fantasy—all it takes is one dance to know that she’s the one. All it takes is the sound of her song from the tower, or a look at her sleeping face. And right away you know—this is the girl in your head, sleeping or dancing or singing in front of you. Yes, girls want their princes, but boys want their princesses just as much. And they don’t want a very long courtship. They want to know immediately.
This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs.
His whole life was a sham, a fairy tale. The truth hidden behind a wall of lies, each lie another brick in the wall until he probably couldn't see the truth anymore.
Smartass Disciple: Master, I don’t need a fairytale.I need you to tell me the truth. Master of Stupidity: It is not funny if you just found it. No drama if no lost at first.
Cinderella was such a dork. She left behind her glass slipper at the ball and then went right back to her step-monster's house. It seems to me she should have worn the glass slipper always, to make herself easier to find. I always hoped that after the prince found Cinderella and they rode away in their magnificent carriage, after a few miles she turned to him and said, Could you drop me off down the road please? Now that I've finally escaped my life of horrific abuse, I'd like to see something of the world, you know?... I'll catch back up with you later, Prince, once I've found my own way.
Some seasons later, the Princess of the kingdom was riding with her handmaiden on the edge of the dark woods. Though once she had been very ill, the Princess had recovered miraculously and was now married to a fine prince. She lived a full and happy life: walked and danced and sang, and enjoyed all the vast riches of health. They had a dear baby girl who was much loved and ate pure honey and drank the dew from rose petals and had beautiful butterflies for playthings.
He was the most ordinary man in all the world, and yet in her memory he'd become luminous, like the prince in a fairy tale.
It’s a funny thing to be the product of a fairy-tale romance. It’s another thing to think you might find one yourself. You can read the stories and watch the movies, and you can think you know how it’s all supposed to unfold.But the truth is, love is as much fate as it is planning, as much a beauty as it is a disaster.Finding a prince might mean kissing a lot of frogs. Or kicking a lot of frogs out of your house. Falling might mean running headfirst into something you always wanted. Or dipping your toe into something you’ve been scared of your whole life. Happily ever after could be waiting in a field a mile wide. Or a window as narrow as seven minutes.
Did I ever tell you the difference between a Northern fairy tale and a Southern one? she asked him, indulging herself and letting her head rest on his shoulder. God, he felt good. Her man. Where her head was meant to lie, right there, on him. What's the difference?A Northern one starts 'once upon a time,' while a Southern one starts 'y'all ain't going to believe this shit.
It sounds like a fairy-tale, but not only that; this story of what man by his science and practical inventions has achieved on this earth, where he first appeared as a weakly member of the animal kingdom, and on which each individual of his species must ever again appear as a helpless infant... is a direct fulfilment of all, or of most, of the dearest wishes in his fairy-tales. All these possessions he has acquired through culture. Long ago he formed an ideal conception of omnipotence and omniscience which he embodied in his gods. Whatever seemed unattainable to his desires - or forbidden to him - he attributed to these gods. One may say, therefore, that these gods were the ideals of his culture. Now he has himself approached very near to realizing this ideal, he has nearly become a god himself. But only, it is true, in the way that ideals are usually realized in the general experience of humanity. Not completely; in some respects not at all, in others only by halves. Man has become a god by means of artificial limbs, so to speak, quite magnificent when equipped with all his accessory organs; but they do not grow on him and they still give him trouble at times... Future ages will produce further great advances in this realm of culture, probably inconceivable now, and will increase man's likeness to a god still more.
When I am with you, I am invincible.When I am with you, your kind and loving presence strengthen me down to my very core.When I am with you, I finally know what heaven on earth feels like.For when I am with you, I am the best I could be.I'd rather walk through the burning coals of hell than enjoy comfort and luxury with someone else.For life without you, is not life at all. I love you.
What magic is this?' the muse says to the man. 'A flower, a dream, a fairy-tale wish,' the man says to his muse. The muse smiles.
Some women have kissed—and some are kissing—a lot of frogs, even though the very first man that they have each kissed was and is still a prince.
Everything happens, some get hurt maybe a fairy tale of damage but nature can't be change. We just walk away with memories that carries a story being made after as history.
The little queen lived in a world where the sky swirled like the sea and nothing was itself for very long. Everything looked to be in brushstrokes.
For the hand of a beauty with honest words and sensibilities so mighty.“Though your mother and father had hoped for something more fragile (and flighty)
Art finds her own perfection within, and not outside of, herself.She is not to be judged by any external standard of resemblance.
Theories about world literature, of which fairy tale is a fundamental part, emphasize the porousness of borders, geographical and inguistic: no frontiercan keep a good story from roaming. It will travel, and travel far, and travel back again in a different guise, a changed mood, and, above all, a new meaning.
I was his “little girl with the William Burroughs mind,” his “secret fairy,” “female Frank Zappa” and “window onto a magical world.” He said I fell to earth, leaving wing-marks on the ceilings of our dreams.
Follow the sincerity of your heart, it will always lead you on the right path Cinderella in Focus: Cindy's Secret
The sound of the pages turning was the sound of magic. The dry liquid feel of paper under fingertips was what magic felt like.
He threw the knife at Karian’s face, deliberately catching his temple. “Sons of Kings shouldn’t play with sharp toys.
She crossed her legs and kicked out her feet, clad in thick wool socks and boots big enough to house a little old lady.
The well-intentioned mothers who don't want their children polluted by fairy tales would not only deny them their childhood, with its high creativity, but they would have them conform to the secular world, with its dirty devices. The world of fairy tale, fantasy, myth, is inimical to the secular world, and in total opposition to it, for it is interested not in limited laboratory proofs but in truth.
There is nothing so nice as supposing. It's almost like being a fairy. If you suppose anything hard enough it seems as if it were real.
Once upon a time there was war, and starvation, and death. Once upon a time we would kill our brothers and sisters, fearing for our own lives. Once upon a time the characters turned from us, and we wept. Now we do not war, nor do we fear, nor do we weep. We Redact.
Rap un zeal' Demon within. I might as well put up a giant 'Come and Get Eaten' sign for the good those warning runes do.
I do the same with my books...Nothing like a good argument in the margins with someone who's already said all they have to say on the subject.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending. How long I can contain the storm I am becoming; the emotions pushed aside that grow and strengthen, clamoring for their release. I can resist only so much. One day I won’t be able to fake a smile or weave a lie. One day I am going to explode.