Let your dissent fuel you, your anger inspire you, your rage convey you, and your fury strike a chilling fear onto the spines of your enemies.
Evan MeekinsStichwörter: rage hate fantasy dissent fiction anger young-adult fury young-adult-fiction fantasy-fiction young-adult-fantasy
Swords can’t solve every problem.
Rick RiordanStichwörter: fantasy mythology annabeth-chase rick-riordan the-mark-of-athena the-heroes-of-olympus
Hate did not give way to heroism.
Evan MeekinsStichwörter: hate fantasy fiction heroism young-adult young-adult-fiction fantasy-fiction young-adult-fantasy
We can't change the world by shouting, but our words can have meaning if we give them enough respect.
Evan MeekinsStichwörter: words change fantasy fiction respect young-adult speaking young-adult-fiction fantasy-fiction shouting young-adult-fantasy
Love is not measured by acts or years, but by truth between two people.
Evan MeekinsStichwörter: truth love fantasy fiction young-adult young-adult-fiction fantasy-fiction young-adult-fantasy
While parchment may burn and gold may be stained or melted down, the things that are truly important to us will never lose their value.
Evan MeekinsStichwörter: love gold fantasy fiction value importance young-adult young-adult-fiction fantasy-fiction young-adult-fantasy
Oh, Hank," Susan whispered, "their wings are furry."
"Oh, James," Harriet whispered, "their hands are kind.
Stichwörter: friendship cats compassion fantasy wonder kids
Dreams are pathways for the heart.
- Reminim the gnome
Stichwörter: heart fantasy dream pathway
If it has a name or a description it has or will exist at some point in time
Stanley Victor PaskavichStichwörter: reality fantasy creation lore stantasyland
He sighed and opened the black box and took out his rings and slipped them on. Another box held a set of knives and Klatchian steel, their blades darkened with lamp black. Various cunning and intricate devices were taken from velvet bags and dropped into pockets. A couple of long-bladed throwing tlingas were slipped into their sheaths inside his boots. A thin silk line and folding grapnel were wound around his waist, over the chain-mail shirt. A blowpipe was attached to its leather thong and dropped down the back of his cloak; Teppic picked a slim tin container with an assortment of darts, their tips corked and their stems braille-coded for ease of selection in the dark.
He winced, checked the blade of his rapier and slung the baldric over his right shoulder, to balance the bag of lead slingshot ammunition. As an afterthought he opened his sock drawer and took a pistol crossbow, a flask of oil, a roll of lockpicks and, after some consideration, a punch dagger, a bag of assorted caltrops and a set of brass knuckles.
Teppic picked up his hat and checked it's lining for the coil of cheesewire. He placed it on his head at a jaunty angle, took a last satisfied look at himself in the mirror, turned on his heel and, very slowly, fell over.
Stichwörter: humor fantasy discworld dungeons-and-dragons assasin
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