Membro dal: 13/09/15 Nuovo recensore (0 recensioni)
A reader
lives a thousand lives before he dies.
The
man who never reads lives only one.
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 smoke-stacks 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 song 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.
"As m'lady commands."
Never forget what you are. The rest of the
world will not. Wear
it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.