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Quote by Terry Brooks

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The Gypsy Morph

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Terry Brooks
Terry Brooks

Terry Brooks is a distinguished American fantasy writer, recognized for his epic fantasy series, The Sword of Shannara. Born on January 8, 1944, he has made a significant impact on the fantasy genre with his imaginative storytelling and richly detailed worlds. more

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“What does this mean exactly?" he said. "What does it mean? What does it mean?" She gazed at him in disbelief, then realized it wasn't a good idea to stare at him too long, because he had barely any clothes on, and she might be blushing, which was annoying. "Yes, what does it mean he said?" ....She stomped towards him. She pointed to the lines above her signature. "There" She stabbed the paper with her finger. "How much plainer can I make it?" "Love." "Yes, I believe I mentioned that some time ago." "But you hate me too." "Not as much as I ought to. For heaven's sake Lucius. Must I draw pictures? How thick can a man be? No never mind. I know the answer to that.”

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“I only meant, shall I go away or would you rather I didn't" Because, you see, you can be a trifle confusing sometimes. For a simple man. And I made up my mind I wouldn't give you any more cause to be unhappy. Or to despise yourself. I was going away to give you time without me here, looming over you constantly and trying to sweep you off your feet. And to give me time as well, to think...about my life. And also in the hopes that absence would make the heart grow fonder. Not my heart, because if it were any fonder it would explode or melt or disintegrate in some fashion.”

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“He wanted her more than he'd wanted anything. And he knew that if - when? - he had her - gods, he couldn't think about being inside her without his body lurching to attention - he'd unleash the hunger that had slumbered in him for so long. She awoke all of it with an insistent ferocity that thrilled him with the anticipation of how he could please her. How he could tell her with his body everything he couldn't say out loud without making this impossible situation harder. She was the person he'd never expected to find. Not after centuries. Not after losing family so long ago that any kind of closeness with another had grown near impossible. 'Mo ghrá,' he murmured against her temple as she fell asleep.”

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“Archie wasn't waiting for her at the attic. She didn't consider that. He was probably giving her time to set and collect a trap, about a week or so as she guessed, a testing period. He couldn't trust her just yet, but she could tell that there was also more to it. He needed to distance himself, from her, because he was afraid to love her. That was it. Loving her was his flaw, weakness, and he could not have a weakness, not while at war. He wouldn't show up, not for some time. She knew that. The longer it would take for him to come back, the more he loved her.”

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“What had those vile creatures unleashed in me? What beast had they awakened? I think I vowed to kill the beast and bury it so deep in the abyss it would never again rear its ugly head. Part of me did make this promise. The other part embraced an unfolding of life’s inextinguishable flames and the mind’s unspoken bondage. As far as reinforcing the strength of my mind’s resolve, I supposed my body was a useless entity. Rather, it was this fancy thing I lived in—a mausoleum that beckoned the living, promising gratification, refuge, solace, peace, even immortality. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t mine. I realized then, it had never belonged to me. I could control what happened to it only if people were merciful. Watching Valentin was not merciful. It was a torturous joy.”

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“She reached up with a trembling hand and touched his brow now, rubbing that crease. “You’re really here,” she murmured. “Yes, baby.” He wrapped his hand around hers at his temple and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them. “You bought me.” She was pretty sure she’d confirmed that fact with him a dozen times already, but he didn’t seem annoyed. “I rescued you the only way I could, Gianna.” His patience was unwavering.”

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