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Dark Fantasy Quotes

Browse 368 quotes about Dark Fantasy.

Dark Fantasy Quotes

“«Le stelle non dovrebbero piangere» sussurrò in modo che soltanto lei lo potesse sentire. «Devono ridere.» «Come posso ridere se mi è stato strappato via il cuore?» Zarek le prese una mano e le baciò ogni polpastrello. «Tu ce l'hai, un cuore.» Si posò le dita della donna sul petto. «Un cuore che batte solo per te, principessa.»”

“Elijah: You are a dangerous woman. Valeria: You do not know the half of it, but I suppose you are not one to always dabble in safe waters either. So, do you still want to work with me? Elijah: It will be my pleasure. Valeria: Is there anything I need to know about you? Elijah: No! Valeria: That is a lie. Elijah: Is there anything I need to know about you? Valeria: No! Elijah: That is also a lie. Valeria, smiling: Then we are a pair of liars.”

“« Sois plus gentille avec moi, la prochaine fois ! » s’exclama-t-il en s’approchant d’elle. Il l’envoûtait totalement, « Je suis certain qu’on pourrait vraiment bien s’amuser tous les deux, mais seulement si tu as apprends à être gentille… » murmura-t-il dans le creux de son oreille avant de s’éloigner et de la laisser seule contre le tronc d’arbre.”

“« Mince alors… » gloussa-t-il bruyamment en buvant une autre gorgée de vin, « J’aurais voulu t’affronter encore une fois. Que c’était excitant ! Toi et moi, quel dangereux duel ! » Il la regarda de la tête aux pieds puis ajouta: « Le duel rêvé. » Et voilà : il était encore une fois narquois et provocateur. Lee essayait d’oublier le passé, pourquoi devait-il encore la narguer ? Comment était-elle censée passer à autre chose ? « Arrête ça… » Elle se mordit la langue, prit une profonde inspiration et évita de lui répondre comme elle l’aurait fait auparavant, « Je suis venue m’excuser pour mon comportement puéril et te remercier pour ton geste. Je veux qu’on soit bien d’accord… Je ne suis pas venue pour devenir ton amie, Ren. » répondit-elle d’un ton ferme. « Je ne t’ai pas demandé d’être mon amie. »”

“He blinked in surprise and was even more startled when the dragon mimicked the action, but did so sideways. A clear membrane coated its eye, then drew back to reveal hues infinitely more searing than before—so vibrant it was painful for Roger to look into them. Orange pulsating like a lava flow, yellow glistening brighter than a city made of gold, green flashing like St. Elmo’s fire. All these colors danced not a foot in front of Roger’s face, flickering within that gigantic orb...”

“No. No… No!’ the fear ebbed my voice, cut through me like a knife. I ran, bare feet slipping and sliding over the floorboards. I turned the corner and headed for the backdoor. Run. Run. I must run. As soon as I reached the backdoor in the kitchen, pulling the barn door from the hinges, I felt his gaze upon me. Cinders and kindling crunched at my feet; what had once been my lovely mahogany kitchen furniture was now little more than firewood. My crockery and china splintered in shards and as I turned to face him, I felt them dig into my skin, cut me with every shiver that bolted through my frame. ‘You wanted Hemlock House. You have, Hemlock House.’ His voice was dark, cruel and yet hauntingly light. As if cooing, whispering to a newborn. He was lounging against the countertop as if waiting for breakfast, as if waiting for something so meaningless.”

“Time is tick, tick, ticking away. How many souls will I capture today? Will they be a challenge or will they be given? Only time will tell as the clock keeps tick, tick, ticking. Your god has arrived with enough hatred for y’all, with enough evil for the big and small, so come one, come all. I will shred your souls and place them in my satchel, call you a settler and make you my peddler. Come one, come all, come stand behind your god. I will lead you into the darkness of Earth's end. Come one, come all, my wilted flowers, come claim your title, speak out and cheer it. Come one, come all, let’s have a ball, my wilted flowers . . . Sweet, Unconquerable Spirits.”

“He was afraid of the conversation he was about to have, yet he badly wanted to have it. It was like this each time. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he reached into the drawer. He removed a plain-looking pinewood box. Placing it on the desk in front of him, he opened its hinged top. Inside was a metallic cone inserted into a wooden base, set next to an electromagnet and two dry cells. He switched it on. Then came the low-pitched hum, and the faint blue aura.”

“There was something behind the glass, behind her reflection and the wash of clouded sky above her. She gazed past the surface, as though she were looking deep into clear water, ignoring the ripples and movements on the surface to search out what lived beneath. A tree, she realized, bending in a faint breeze, draped with purple leaves like streamers. Pure-silver flowers winked and sparkled in the deep foliage, swinging gently like bells, though Alaine couldn't hear anything. She gazed deeper, drinking in the beauty of a silver mist of moss on the ground, of a tangle of pale branches woven into knot-work unnaturally symmetrical, down to thorns bowing deeply to one another in vine-wrought curls. Something moved in the purple-and-silver forest, a figure, sliding like mist through the boughs. A woman--- Alaine started. She was tall and slim, shaped more than anything like a birch tree, with the same silver-pale gleam. Her hair was loose behind her, wound through with purple flowers, painfully bright against her fair waves. She looked up, gazing right at Alaine, almost meeting her eyes--- And then the mirror shattered in her hands.”

“The Dead of Winter by Stewart Stafford In truth, winter is the dead's season, Their graveyard chill touches Earth, The skeleton moon's danse macabre, As the darkened Sun heralds rebirth. Wild hunters of Christmas Eve skies, Mighty Odin or Arthur leading all, Hellhounds, fiery steeds, chase, To feast in a Valhalla or Camelot hall. Assemble at the hearth, my kindred, Share unnerving tales of gothic fright, Raised pulses as spectral guests join us, Frayed nerves spiked on this haunted night. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“It’s too dangerous…I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to him. I wouldn’t be able to bare it. Forgiveness would be out of the question; beyond my ability. I would never be able to forget that the boy I loved was hurt…or worse…because he came to this world. Because of me.”