Mythical Creatures Quotes

“The usual warmth of his hands wasn’t there. They chilled my skin as they slipped to my waist, and I realized he was scared.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“A star becomes a sun, under the pressure of darkness.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“Realization hit his face like a bomb. His hand trembled on my cheek, and he looked down to the ground, no longer able to hold my gaze.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“she told me to be my own hero. Inside of all of us was the potential for greatness—all it took was a change in perspective. “You can burn brighter than they can, if you have too.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“There are two types of men, Karolina. The ones who can admire the greatness of the little flower. Or the ones who try to control it.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“For a second, fire flared inside of him, not like mine, but the fire of a man about to lose control.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“Do you want me?” he whispered. It was a simple but loaded question. The answer, like it could remove all anguish from the past few weeks, stood out in my head. “Yes.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“I had plans, Karolina, and I chose power over love.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“You can burn brighter than they can, if you have too.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“she told me to be my own hero. Inside of all of us was the potential for greatness—all it took was a change in perspective.”
― M. R. Noble a, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“I couldn’t remember a time when I felt the type of love Miruna had. Eternal love. The kind which keeps one going when one is ninety and alone.”
― M. R. Noble, Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes

“The Dire Wolf killed the Jakes,” he said.
“Who’s this Dire Wolf?” I asked. Figured he was talking about someone he knew.
He spoke in a whisper, almost reverently. “The Dire Wolf is the curse of the Downstream People, the Arkansa. He is an evil spirit of the Quapaw.”
I sighed and shook my head, knowing how these old Indians liked to throw in a bunch of mythical tribal mumbo-jumbo and superstition to deflect blame from someone they knew. “Well, you know where I can find this Dire Wolf fella?” I asked.
“He cannot be found,” the old man said.
“Really. You have reason to believe he’s taken off to other parts?”
He said nothing for a full quarter minute, his black eyes intently on mine, searching. I could see contempt in them and a sadness. Made me nervous.
“No,” old Long Walker answered at last. “He has not departed. Now that he has awakened, he will kill again.”
― Phil Truman, Dire Wolf of the Quapaw: a Jubal Smoak Mystery

“Out of the trees wild people stepped forth, gods Fauns and Satyrs and Dwarfs. Out of the river rose the river god with his Naiad daughters. And all these and all the beasts and birds in their different voices, low or high or thick or clear, replied:
"Hail, Aslan. We hear and obey. We are awake. We love. We think. We speak. We know.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew

“Soon she is lost in another dimension where images prevail and silence rules.  A large, black eye flutters open, staring at Kate from deep within the oceanic darkness of its mysterious pupil.  Falling into the center of this cyclopean abyss, she comes face to face with something completely unexpected.  A tiny infant, seemingly asleep, is suspended in a cocoon of rotating beads of white light above a luminous white stone altar.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“Never been around dogs much. My mom had a collie when I was a boy, but she was a gentle animal who stayed around the house, mostly. My father, and the men he knew, all had braces of big surly hunting dogs they used for going after wild hogs. The times he took me with him on those hunts, I was more afraid of those dogs than the feral hogs. Think they could sense it. Always felt like they would’ve taken the least opportunity to sink their teeth into me.”
― Phil Truman, Dire Wolf of the Quapaw: a Jubal Smoak Mystery

“Pain as old as time itself, threaded with memories of heartache old and new, are translated into wails of anguish, the sonnet of her life.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“As Kate laments the loss of the singularly most profound love of her life, she watches the black ravens gather in a circle around her, dragging their wings in ritualized fashion as they dance to the beat of ancient drums, pounding out the story of ageless lamentation.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“The Scriven men wore stack-heeled boots and pearl-studded evening coats; the ladies in their vast skirts looked like mythical creatures, half woman, half sofa.”
― Philip Reeve, Fever Crumb

“My dear Orga is here on my lap, sleeping blissfully after I spoilt her with the best cuts of meat from the café and a great deal of cream. Rose made several withering remarks about the devilish nature of faerie cats, as well as my indulgence of her, which he seemed to think a bit maudlin, and yet I saw that old hypocrite sneak her several morsels from his dinner plate when he thought I wasn't looking. Like Shadow, she has adopted a glamour here, and presently looks every bit the part of an ordinary mortal cat, apart from her eyes, which flask like gold coins.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“Even as a curious song filters through the streets of
San Miguel, one with the heartbeat of the guitarron, one with a melancholy melody, it isn’t enough to help him forget that he must continue to speak the creature's name. Not because it prevents the old gods from coming back to life, but to keep them from slipping into those dark places, like sun-obscured cenotes, where slivers of light cannot reach far enough to keep those malevolent things from being forgotten.”
― Mary Rajotte, Collage Macabre: An Exhibition of Art Horror

“Even as a curious song filters through the streets of San Miguel, one with the heartbeat of the guitarron, one with a melancholy melody, it isn’t enough to help him forget that he must continue to speak the creature's name. Not because it prevents the old gods from coming back to life, but to keep them from slipping into those dark places, like sun-obscured cenotes, where slivers of light cannot reach far enough to keep those malevolent things from being forgotten.”
― Mary Rajotte

“Despite objections by Evans (1901), Blanchet (1904), and others, "faun" remains the accepted nomenclature for all species of hoofed common fae regardless of size or origin, one of several terms whose lineage can be traced to dryadology's roots in early-seventeenth-century Greece.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“Shadow had just finished ripping apart another of the fauns which had strayed too close, in his bloodthirsty estimation, to me. He was so large now that he would intimidate a warhorse, his fur long and rippling like seaweed in dark undersea currents, and forming a mane about his head.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“If this is a shortcut," I said, "then we will be bypassing a great deal of Where the Trees Have Eyes."
"Hum!" Snowbell said. "I suppose so. The Weeping Mines, for one--- terrible waterfalls where the high ones harvest their silver. The Gap of Wick, which a nasty boggart has claimed for his own. Also the darkest part of the forest, the lands of the hag-headed deer, which they call the Poetry. And many other perils besides."
He said it in his usual bragging tones, assuming that I would be nothing but grateful. And I was, I suppose, but another part of me wept at the thought of finding my way to the Silva Lupi, a place of scholarly legend, so magnificently fascinating and terrible, and then hurrying through like a busy shopper at a market.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“Something stirred the air at my back--- that was all I noticed, a gentle breeze--- and suddenly Orga had turned and lunged at something behind me so swiftly she seemed to melt into pure shadow. When I turned, I found her rolling across the forest floor in a tangle of feathers and long, horrific black legs, her jaw locked around the guardian's neck. The creature went still a heartbeat later, letting out a final, wet wheeze as its legs twitched.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“I will not deny that I crave you, Hinziwin. I would savor every inch of your body if you allowed me to.”
― Melodia Moreno, Magic Mayhem and Madness: A Historical Time travel Romance

“They had never met a real stardog, believing they were only a myth.”
― E. K. Mosley, The Last Stardog

“Your dragon won't breathe fire without it, at first, being stoked.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“In a large, abandoned field, I found myself cleaning the dung off the only pair of shoes I owned since I can remember. Perhaps, next time, I'll be more cautious of my steppings. It was at that moment when I found myself locking eyes with a creature whose sight I found utterly revolting. Marked from head to heel with hair so short, one could've mistaken the poor thing for a boy, except for the bountiful bosom, whose ample weight carried well. If I were to say the poor thing made Ms. Bottom Slippers look attractive, I kid you not!”
― Marilyn Velez, Tundra: The Darkest Hour

“Several weeks have passed since the incident at Lord Frisberts Hat Shop, and I’m saddened to say, I’ve yet to leave this hole. Rents due, and I could hear old Finby barking from down below, but my pockets run about as dry as the shavings on a chicken coop.
On a good day, I’d gather some lint off my trousers, but not today. No, sir, not today.”
― Marilyn Velez, Tundra: The Darkest Hour