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Welcome me, I'm new!
* Malcharion OfflineHere's to the fools who dream |
Last Activity: April 8th 2018 04:32 PM
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Hey, I'm Sue. I've seen some of your posts around the forum and I immediately noticed Ankh-Morpork, haha.
From what I see we both love fantasy. How are you doing today?
About Me
- Basics
- Gender
- Male
- Location
- Somewhere between Ankh-Morpork and New Sanctaphrax
- Details
- Relationship status
- Single
- Sexuality
- Heterosexual/Straight
- Education
- High School
- Politics
- Undecided, for the most part
- Interests
- Hobbies
- Art of various mediums
Reading - Music
- Two Steps From Hell
Miracleofsound
Indila
Stromae
Avenged Sevenfold - Movies
- La La Land
Transformers 1
Mad Max: Fury Road
LOTR: Return of the King
Arrival - Books
- Discworld
Lord of the Rings
ASOIAF
Gaunt's Ghosts
Most stuff by William Gibson
Harry Potter
Edge Chronicles
Leviathan
Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius - Sports
- Running
- Favorite quotes
- The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real … for a moment at least … that long magic moment before we wake.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to middle Earth.
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Signature
- What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you
bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?
