Saga Quotes

“In the turbulent art arena they all pitch in and do their dubious and mercantile part in the rocambolesque saga of the art since so many judge art with their ears and the sound of the money. (“When is art?”)”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“Cool. So glad I got to do all this in a towel.”
― Brian K. Vaughan, Saga, Volume 2

“El problema es que los humanos tienen el don de elegir precisamente las cosas que son peores para ellos.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

“É curioso: tenho notado que as pessoas em geral simpatizam comigo à primeira vista. No entanto, sou um tipo arisco e distante. Não que eu queira mal aos homens ou que os tema a ponto de procurar fugir-lhes ao contato. Alguém já disse que na minha atitude para com o mundo há muito de orgulho. Engano. Não tenho atitude nem orgulho. Uma paisagem bela tem a força de me comover até as lágrimas. Mas a paisagem humana é a que mais me interessa. O mistério das almas me seduz. Esta vaga sensação de desconfiança que me envolve quando estou em companhia dos homens vai por conta de velhas decepções.”
― Erico Verissimo

“First, those spaceships are mine, including the one Callum came here with, and not free to use as you wish,” Caderyn says. “Second, you are not a Teryn, and as such I do not have to honor your Bride’s Choice claim. We are done here.”
― S.G. Blaise, True Teryn

“If Callum ever gets out of the way, I would like to rekindle what we had. We never had a real chance together.”
― S.G. Blaise, True Teryn

“Don’t listen to Glennie,” Isa says and pats Arrov’s forearm—that’s as high as she can reach. Bella adds, “You’ll change back to your old and handsome self soon.”
― S.G. Blaise, True Teryn

“The goal here is to avoid the lake. I can assure you; no swimming or other preparation is needed. We would not recommend swimming anyway. The lake is full of giant eels that attack anything that moves.”
― S.G. Blaise, Proud Pada

“Caderyn laughs. “Son, no one is entitled here except me.”
― S.G. Blaise, True Teryn

“Callum holds me tightly as we submerge under the water. Thin lines of air bubbles escape from his nose and mouth. He struggles to get back to the surface but to no avail—his heavy uniform and black boots weren’t meant for swimming.”
― S.G. Blaise, Proud Pada

“We should run away. Get married and forget about anything else.”
I snort and slide my hands down to his chest, marveling at the hard and defined muscles. “Tempting, but you would regret it five minutes after we ran away.”
Callum tightens his fingers around my waist. “They would be the best five minutes of my life. Worth every second.”
― S.G. Blaise, Proud Pada

“There was a man named Ingjald who lived on Hefne, an islandin Halgoland in the north. He was a worthy farmer and went raiding by summer but did not stir during the winters.”

(Vatnsdaela Saga)”
― Jane Smiley, The Sagas of Icelanders

“If we became a pal to what scared us the most, we could find a simple way to ease all that bothered us, we would find peace, peace that we could live with.”
― Holly Hood, Prison of Paradise

“All I know is that the fear I have been battling all night is breaking down the door of my ignorance. As my feet slam down I feel not the hard, wet asphalt but the soft Persian rug that led to the staircase in my father’s home. In the glow of lightning the dancing trees are illuminated but I see my mother in the glow of candlelight, spinning, twirling, her hair fanned out
behind her. It is falling over me, saturating my thoughts, and I cannot. I cannot let it in.”
― Gwenn Wright, The BlueStocking Girl

“What secrets?” Eena blurted out.

Kira answered the question by defensively listing them out on her fingers. “How about the fact that Derian was coming for you in a few short days, or the fact that Gemdorin was forcing you to search for some magic gem we were all unaware existed. How about the knowledge of your unusual powers that you stupidly used to infect the Ghengats, which was also a secret you kept to yourself until it was discovered by Gemdorin, making it too late for us to do anything about preventing you from being beaten half to death! You hide things as if you think your abilities are so superior to what the rest of us can possibly contribute!”

Eena shook her head adamantly. “That’s not what I think…”

“It’s how you behave. It’s how you come across to everyone. Your selfish actions speak a helluva lot louder than your hollow words or your foolish intentions.”

The young queen felt a rise of tears burn her eyes. “My intentions are not foolish. All I ever meant to do was protect those around me.”

“By keeping us in the dark? That’s not protection, girl. That’s neglect.”

Eena sniffled as fresh waterworks ran down her cheeks. Her face twisted up, confused. “People get hurt when they’re involved in my problems.”

“In our problems.”

“No! My problems!” she insisted.

Kira threw up her arms. “There you go being all selfish again!”

Eena sucked in a ragged breath, almost crying out the next question. “How do you figure that’s being selfish? I’m trying to keep everyone safe!”

“And what did I just get through telling you about that idiotic notion?”

Eena looked up at the ceiling. She raised her palms in frustration as she bawled. “I don’t know what else to do! What do you want from me?”

Kira stepped forward and knelt in front of her tortured sister. Her hand rested gently on Eena’s knee as the Mishmorat’s gruff countenance melted. A softer, kinder voice answered the desperate question.

“We want you to understand that the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. You’re only responsible for a small portion of what happens daily on Moccobatra. Life isn’t dependent upon you alone, Sha Eena. It’s dependent upon all of us. We’re a team. We work together doing our own part. We need you to be part of our team, not a single entity existing on your own.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Companionship of the Dragon's Soul

“She covered her mouth while her promised one slipped back into the rock he now considered his eternal tomb.

Pallador took possession of the scarlet gem and returned it to its dark hiding place. Eena couldn’t move. She stood frozen, facing the wall of mirrors, staring at a pathetic image that mourned in endless repeated reflections. This would be her agonizing eternity if she agreed to stay in Tribanees. This would be her hell—seeing her beloved day after day after day, unable to feel his touch or know his physical affections. This was no blessing in tragedy. Cursed be the immortal that believed time was more precious than love. Her answer to Pallador’s offer was an irrefutable and definitive no.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Companionship of the Dragon's Soul

“You will want to stand close by, but don’t touch it. Just allow your hands to hover. Pretend an atmosphere of acidic gas exists between you and the gemstone, and if you get too close, the acid will eat the flesh off your fingers.”

“That won’t actually happen, will it?”

“No, Amora. I’m just warning you not to touch it.”

“Why? What if I do?”

“The enchantment will fail.”

“From a simple touch?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

Edgar groaned a sound of annoyance. “Because if you touch it, the stone will suck out your living essence in the most painful manner possible and consume your flesh before turning your bones to powder.”

Her face twisted up imagining the agony of such a death. The worst part was that being immortal, she would somehow survive it.

“You’re lying,” she quickly decided.

“Am I?”

“You just said the flesh won't be eaten off my fingers.”

“If you don’t believe me when I tell you not to touch it, feel free to test the outcome of such folly for yourself.”

“I think I’d rather not.”

“A wise choice. Shall we move on?”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Companionship of the Dragon's Soul

“Campbell Road, so he had been told by long-serving colleagues, and some of The Bunk’s inhabitants, was home to the most notorious criminals: thieves, prostitutes, fraudsters – every sort of rogue and vagabond drifted through this slum. Unbelievable as it seemed to Franks, some had settled and been resident a very long while. If a couple of women – one who looked like she’d had seven bells beaten out of her – wanted to set about a well-known brass, it didn’t take a genius to work out that one of their old men was playing away. Bickerstaff might be a stickler for doing things by the book but, in the great scheme of things, this was a petty domestic incident. The Bunk community had its own system of justice. Franks agreed with it: leave them be to shovel up their own shit.”
― Kay Brellend, The Street

“(You look the same.)

(I’m not using it yet.)

(Don’t you think a test run would be a good idea?)

She nodded. (Probably.)

Her eyelids closed as she concentrated on a mental image of the person she wished to impersonate. Her desire was to appear exactly as the immortal leader, Pallador. Calling on the powers of the dragon’s blood, she willed its enchantment alive. It was Ian’s astounded whisper that told her the charm was working.

“Whoa!”

Opening her eyes she fully expected to see Ian staring at the shining gems on the dragon’s blood. Instead, he was staring at her with a look that was more or less disgusted.

(That’s really you?) he asked, looking her up and down as though she had turned into some sort of lizard creature.

(Yes, why? What’s wrong with me?) Her gaze dropped to check for herself. All she observed was her tawny dress pulled in at the waist by Edgar’s hideous, glowing belt. She glanced at one arm and then the other, both sleeved in the same billowed silk. Her fingers flailed, still the same short, slender digits.

(Oh crud,) she breathed. (It’s not working.)

(Oh, it’s working alright,) Ian disagreed.

Eena glanced up to find him grinning with real amusement.

(You’re a dead ringer for the guy. Ghost robe, bug eyes, bony fingers, in need of a serious haircut. Exactly like him.)

(Really?)

(Really.)

(Cool,) she breathed and then added, (That’s not very nice how you described him.)

(It’s accurate.)”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Companionship of the Dragon's Soul

“It doesn’t ever change. Does the sun not set in your dreams?”

Eena grinned at his profile, remembering the first time Ian had noticed the same peculiarity. “No. It never sets.” She watched his brow wrinkle as he wondered at the view.

“What good is a stagnant sunset?”

Eena looked at the auburn lights. The question made her think for a moment. “Well, it’s always exactly what I want it to be, right between day and night.”

“But I thought the beauty of a sunset was watching it change, marveling at the shift in colors as they intensify and then eventually fade.”

“All that leaves you with is darkness,” she muttered.

He turned to look at her. “You’re afraid of the dark?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid of what happens in the dark.”

A look of concern questioned her meaning.

“Nightmares,” she explained. “And solitude. And loneliness. The dark is where monsters come to life and people feel the need to leave you. Life is never secure in the dark. You never see things clearly in the dark.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Eena, The Companionship of the Dragon's Soul

“Norse mythology hints at Odinic cults, with Odin being worshipped through a combination of ecstatic and seemingly shamanistic rituals. From the eddic poem The Sayings of the High One ( Hávamál ), he is said to have hanged himself in a sacrificial ritual on a tree. Barely surviving this ordeal, Odin gains arcane knowledge, including the use of runes, the ancient Scandinavian alphabet sometimes used for magical purposes. In the poem, Odin chants :
I know that I hung
on the wind-swept tree
all nine nights
with spear was I wounded
and given to Odin,
myself to me,
on that tree which no one knows
from which roots it grows.

Bread I was not given,
no drink from the horn,
downwards I glared;
up I pulled the runes,
screaming I took them,
from there I fell back again.

- excerpt from Jesse L. Byock's Introduction and Notes, of Sturluson's Prose Edda.”
― Snorri Sturluson, The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology

“Its my sweet-lipped Passion:Art that drives me up to invent new smiles of Beauty,my wings are torn,and still it flies in search of Beauty.”
― Nithin Purple

“—Como un conejo al horno —contesté.”
― Elly Blake, Frostblood

“The saga teems with life and action, with memorable and complex characters from the heroic Gunnar of Hlidarendi, a warrior without equal who dislikes killing, to the
villainous, insinuating Mord Valgardsson, who turns out to be less dastardly than we first expect. Unforgettable events include Skarphedin’s head-splitting axe blow as he glides past his opponent on an icy river bank, or Hildigunn’s provoking of her uncle to seek blood revenge by placing on his shoulders the blood-clotted cloak in which
her husband was slain...

Just as in the Norse poem Völuspá (‘The Seeress’s Prophecy’) the gods met their doom (no mere twilight) at the hands of brute giants and monsters, after which a new and peaceful earth arose, so do the terrible events of Njal’s Saga lead finally and at great cost to a dignified resolution bearing the promise of a better time.

(Robert Cook(”
― Anonymous, Njal's Saga

“I ricordi che seppellisci nel silenzio sono quelli che non smettono mai di perseguitarti.”
― Carlos Ruiz Zafon, El laberinto de los espíritus

“His grandfather bent down on his knees in front of me, and now I will watch his grandson do the same with you. Make sure there is fear in this Talar's eyes. Make sure there is obedience. I will see you, Son, may the Gods be with us both."- The Emperor”
― Matthew Marcellus, The Lost Paladin

“He immediately regretted ever being alive.”
― Nicholas Dufresne, A Planet to Nowhere

“The Storms of Chattering Monkeys. These disruptions of high-gust winds and whirling word water were known in the DuBois household as a rare occurrence but typical nonetheless.”
― Sosanni Valtsioti, Ink Shattered Reality: a gothic tale

“The plants will divulge every single word that was uttered here in the storm of word water. There is no way now that I can prevent Carmen from hearing my thoughts one way or another about anything. Such is fate.”
― Sosanni Valtsioti, Ink Shattered Reality: a gothic tale