Quotes about fairy-tale

The world is a fairy tale we are its guardians.

They weren't true stories they were better than that.

When a fairy tale ends a new one starts. Close your eyes and say ‘once upon a time’ with me who knows we may catch the beginning of a fairy tale which will bless us with a happy ending.”By T. Afsin Ilgar - Ted`s Tale

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.

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.

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 l

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.

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.

Soul bonds can't be broken. They only bend for a while . . .

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.

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

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.

October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or shutting a book, did not end the tale.Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: "It is simply a matter," he explained to April, "of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content.

Art finds her own perfection within, and not outside of, herself.She is not to be judged by any external standard of resemblance.

Just because something is beautiful doesn´t mean it´s good.

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),

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.

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.

the onewho will jolt awakeall the unwrittenthe unsungand the unlived in me. i am waitingfor him.

Tous mes anciens amours vont me revenir.'- All my old loves will be returned to me

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 y

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.

One does not seek love,' she told him, 'it should find you all on it's own

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.

Two forces create eternity – a fairy tale and a dream from the fairy tale.

Life is a fairy tale that was written by hopes, dreams, and desires.

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 omnisc

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.

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.

I’m Detective Piper of the Fairyland Metro Police, and I've been called in to investigate the incident of the missing frog prince…

If you only think of yourself, there's no room for another in marriage.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It’s destiny; the stars have aligned perfectly to bring us together as friends. You cannot argue with what’s meant to be, once the stars have spoken, it is absolute,” he uttered, all smug and knowing. Shocked that he used the word destiny, I cocked my head and shot him a look—for the first time actually seeing Parker. He was pretty…too pretty to be a guy; streaky blond hair—as if each streak had been strategically placed—dark eyes, pale skin, and a charming smile that dimpled in one cheek. “Dest

It’s destiny; the stars have aligned perfectly to bring us together as friends. You cannot argue with what’s meant to be, once the stars have spoken, it is absolute,” he uttered, all smug and knowing. Shocked that he used the word destiny, I cocked my head and shot him a look—for the first time actually seeing Parker. He was pretty…too pretty to be a guy; streaky blond hair—as if each streak had been strategically placed—dark eyes, pale skin, and a charming smile that dimpled in one cheek. “Dest

Children are more able to objectively synthesize a story involving vampires, monsters, or dragons due to the distance afforded by the fantastical elements than they are a story revolving around horrors committed by human beings.

None of this was part of the plan all the girls I'd grown up with had been given. Not a written plan, unless the book about Cinderella counted. The plan was in the water we drank, the air we breathed. It was poured into the pavement on the streets we called home. Marry a nice man, one who was a good provider, and live happily, or at least comfortably, ever after.Safe to say I'd followed the plan. I'd married a banker. Had a baby. But the plan had failed me. It left me alone huddled in a window s

The End" is just the beginning.

The term - 'Fairy-Tales' is so ironical in itself, when I sometimes sit to write love stories with a happy ending, it usually drags me into a dilemma whether, I should even begin with a love story at first place or not? Because honestly, I haven't seen many of them reaching climax, most of them just die out in the mid. Then comes the concept of fairy tales or what we say 'fiction', where nothing is impossible!But over time, if I've realized something, it is that there's no such term called ficti

When fiction has become reality, life may turn into a fairy tale or a firestorm. Tina, time has come to pull up one’s socks and start relearning and reassessing living. ("Another empty room")

All truth starts out as a wish; hence, reality is born from fairytale."from—"My Aquarius

Believe it. The world isn't all fairy tales and pixie dust. You need to grow up and face reality.

We mature not by years, but by stories…" Cinderella In Focus:Cindy's Secret

A soul wound doesn't grow a new layer of normality overnight" Cinderella in Focus: Cindy'Secret

You’re thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it sliplet it gosay ”I give up” one last time and give him a sad smile.You’re thinkingit shouldn’t be this hard,shouldn’t be this dark,thinkinglove could flow easily with no holding backand you’ve seen others find their match and build something greattogether,of each other,like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great thingsone by one, always together, and it seems grand.But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest yo

...One cannot help but consider the future- what will it be like when all the wild places of the earth have been taken over by civilization, and there is no more room for Indians, Pirates, and Wild Boys?

Once upon a time, he might’ve chased her and tumbled her in the sheets with the promise of more in the future.

Once upon a time, is how stories begin...

You worked at night, when the shadows masked you and you were little more than a dream. You hid in the forest or the mountains, away from the steam engines and the lamps of the cities, the things that would expose you, confirming you and stripping you of your mystery. You showed yourself rarely, and only to the ones who needed to see you. After the free-for-all that was the earlier Chapters, when babies were stolen, young men murdered and maidens locked away, the fae had had to learn to be very

You want to know how to stop this killer? Forgive yourself, and he’lldisappear from your life forever.”“Thanks. I’ll be sure to do that.”And I know:1. This is almost the same conversation I’ve had with myself many timesbefore.2. Gordon’s only trying to help.But it doesn’t matter.I:1. Say, “See you later.”2. Step outside.3. Close the door.I don’t want to, really. I want to go back inside and believe Gordon’s words,like a child believing in a fairy tale, and I want to escape this nightmare forever

- You may always talk to me, honey... - Started suddenly bright white moon. - The stars are too young to give you a wise advice, yet.

His [(Rumpelstiltskin)] feeling that his name, which is his identity, must be kept secret, or else he'll be revealed to the world as the hunchbacked, shriveled, ridiculous creature he knows himself to be. And if that happens, he'll disappear.

I found the kingdom of far far away, prince charming would not be so far.

...your heart spoke for you. You gave up everything for me.

She is a figure of legend and fairy tale, one to be taken seriously, or she might knock you off your feet with a quick whirl of the staff she carries everywhere.

I have always loved fairy tales, even now at the age when I am supposed to be too grown up and cynical for them.

As the boat drew nearer to shore, and tiny dots in the distance became seagulls, she opened the book across her lap and gazed at the beautiful black-and-white sketch of a woman and a deer side by side in the clearing of a thorny forest. And somehow, though she could not read the words, the little girl realized the she knew this picture's tale. Of a young princess who traveled a great distance across the sea to find a precious, hidden item belonging to someone she dearly loved.

Home is a fairy tale, the kind where children are lost in the woods, found, cooked and eaten.

He’s jealous because lions are better hunters.”--Monroe “Are you compensating for something, Monroe?” --Bastian

You think her innocent/ Your little lost girl/ Caped in Inquisition red/ Yet when she leads you hunting Hyde/ Mind don't slay Jekyll in his stead

Summer on the farm was glorious. Peter spent as much time out of doors as possible, and he had many playmates, since all the children were free from their spring and autumn duties of tending crops or going to school. Peter had become the leader of a merry band of youngsters, aged six to fourteen, who followed the Wild Boy wherever he went and seemed to understand his unintelligible noises. If they did not understand, then they pretended to. The life of a princess has many advantages, but I envie

Unfortunately for him he looked more like an innocent man on America’s terror watch-list rather than a gallant Viking possessing all the benefits of modernity. More like a villain in a Western fairy tale with his slicked-bouffant obsidian hair rather than the long sun-like curls that all great saviors of the poor have been obliged to possess. I squinted to the side towards him for a second and he caught my gaze almost immediately; his inky irises were comfortable enough to hold my stare indefini

That is what love is. A possibility that becomes a choice. A choice you keep making, over and over. Day after day. Year after year. Time after time.

I am a lover of love and I am a lover of words, and the two together spin visions of airy castles, but also may pierce the heart of hope. And so I remind you that I am a fool, a poet, and what matters is reality, not lovely words. Words are full of promise, yet empty of matter.

Winter passed, and the world around began to wake. The birds returned to the kingdom and set about readying their nests, deer could be seen once more grazing where the fields met the woods, and buds burst forth upon the branches of the kingdom's trees.

In Pliny I read about the invention of clay modeling. A Sicyonian potter came to Corinth. There his daughter fell in love with a young man who had to make frequent long journeys away from the city. When he sat with her at home, she used to trace the outline of his shadow that a candle’s light cast on the wall. Then, in his absence she worked over the profile, deepening, so that she might enjoy his face, and remember. One day the father slapped some potter’s clay over the gouged plaster; when the

She walks into my life legs first, a long drink of water in the desert of my thirties. Her shoes are red; her eyes are green. She's an Italian flag in occupied territory, and I fall for her like Paris. She mixes my metaphors like a martini and serves up my heart tartare. They all do. Every time. They have to. It's that kind of story.

We build our understanding of the emotional world through the myths and legends of our culture. We are all, in part, made of fairy tales.

There was much work to be done in the crone's cottage, but the Princess was never heard to complain, for she was a true Princess with a pure heart. The happiest folk are those that are busy, for their minds are starved of time to seek out woe. Thus did the Princess grow up contented. She came to love the changing seasons and learned the satisfaction of sowing seeds and tending crops. And although she was becoming beautiful, the Princess did not know it, for the crone had neither looking glass no

There are days when writing is within my power and a story unfolds along a course I've already chosen.  And then there are days when the words breathe on their own and take me by the hand, leading me along unfathomed paths.  Either way, the end result is this author's fairytale.

I'm a romantic and I kinda believed in this fairy tale. And in some ways I think that's always been to my advantage, because like if you can believe in something great, I feel like you can achieve something great.

Fairy-tales exist and the best proof for this is our own childhood! Yes, childhood is a real fairy tale!

I have had you in my life for so long, I want to know when the dream ends and the fairy-tale begins...

Here and there and not just in books we catch glimpses of a world of once upon a time and they lived happily ever after, of a world where there is a wizard to give courage and a heart, an angel with a white stone that has written on it our true and secret name, and it is so easy to dismiss it all that it is hardly worth bothering to do. ... But if the world of the fairy tale and our glimpses of it here and there are only a dream, they are one of the most haunting and powerful dreams that the wor

Then I shall bid thee goodnight, my dear. Sweet pixies watch over the dusty moonlight of your dreams, Jessameine.

Without your own inner beast tamed ye can never tame the wild ones around ye!

The witch knew who had killed her and she snatched pieces of time, here and there, from the business of dying, to make her revenge.

She squinted at his nametag. Her eyes weren't quite working. "What's your name?" "Stig.""Stick?" she asked, half ready to believe it. He shook his head and pointed his long index finger at the name stitched on his uniform. "S-T-I-G. Stig."Harriet's breath caught. "I can't believe it. I've been looking for you.

That's the tragedy of fairy tales. The whole world puts them on a pedestal. People want their lives to be magical, but what people don't understand is that happiness is sacrificed. There is so much more to the story than what is written. The Cinderella you think she's so unfortunate with her mean sisters and stepmom. You think she deserves a happy ending with a prince, but the twenty-page journey is all you see. You learn little about who she is. What if Cinderella's just a good actress who has

Fairytales have rules. We may never understand them but they've been hammered into our heads since infancy. Eventually, even the rebels conform.

Once upon a time--which, when you come to think of it, is reallythe only proper way to begin a story--the only way that reallysmacks of romance and fairyland--

Magic isn’t something that can be explained: it simply is. It takes while it gives. So” – the spinner steps closer, his outstretched hand demanding – “I have given you magic, and now it must be paid.

Everyone knew you shouldn't go biting into fruit offered to you by magical creatures in the woods, even if you'd thought until just five minutes ago that such stories were, you know, only stories.

Never interrupt a faerie circle ceremony. And, if a faerie has appeared to you, visually, do not speak to it until it has spoken to you. These two transgressions are considered so rude, that the faeries may literally attack you, on the spot.

There are some things even magic can’t fix.

As in most fairy tales, there's a prince and a princess, dragons and some magic, and the feeling it gives you that anything is possible if we could stay this way forever.

He sunk his head down, looking like a defeated giant out of some fairy tale.

Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale.

Now it seemed unbelievable, the innocence of a girl in a fairy tale.