Brom Quotes - Page 1

Grid View List View
Quote of the DayPicture QuotesTop 100 Inspirational QuotesTop 100 Love QuotesTop 100 Happiness Quotes
EpictetusBob MarleyAlbert CamusMartin Luther King, Jr.Dwight D. EisenhowerJohn C. MaxwellWinston ChurchillGeorge CarlinKobe BryantAldous Huxley
UnclesFriendsBusinessXenophobiaKnowledgeAngerMenLegalPatienceQuilts

Had not enough gone wrong?

What will happen, will happen.

Then let us go and be terrible.

My name's Peter. Can I play too?

Did he dare trust this insane boy?

There is always something left to lose.

Men who fear demons see demons everywhere.

For Peter's smile is a most contagious thing.

That's the spirit, one part brave, three parts fool.

And may God be merciful, because these twisted men will not.

My tale doesn't end there, for the end has yet to be written.

Demon or not, it didn't matter, suffering was everywhere he looked.

There's a reason why we're born with brains in our heads, not rocks.

Your dreams are your spirit, your soul, and without them you are dead.

If you don't learn to laugh at life it'll surely kill you, that I know.

Peter stood up and let a wicked smile slide across his face. "Time to play.

Don't let them win. Don't let them beat you. Don't let them steal your magic.

Everything comes with a price. Everything. Some things just cost more than others.

Peter's face clouded. "Everything comes at a price. Or have you not learned that yet?

Enough talk," Peter said, and his eyes flashed. "It's time to turn you three into killers.

Peter," she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. "My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.

The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. "My name's Peter. Can I play too?

Peter finds the lost, the left-behind, the abused. Is that not why you are here? Did Peter not save you?

And Peter laughed, and when he did, all the Devils grinned, because Peter's laugh was a most contagious thing.

But Peter had seen too much, knew too well that men-kind didn't need an excuse to be cruel and murder one another.

Go and play. Run around. Build something. Break something. Climb a tree. Get dirty. Get in some trouble. Have some fun.

Both sides so blinded by their fear and hate of each other that they couldn't see they were all fighting for the same thing.

Burn? Smite? Punish? Why is your god so intolerant? So jealous? Why must there be only one god? Why is there not room for many?

I am your forest, your earth, your eternity. I am your life. I am your death. I am all things forever and always. Love me. Love me. Forever love me.

Almost lost you," he thought, surprised to find himself blinking back tears. "Been through too much, me and you. We're going to finish this thing together.

Children like yourselves are full of magic, but the men have turned, they've lost their magic to the fear and hatred they harbor for all that they can't explain, control, or understand.

Peter glanced up at the stars and a wicked smile lit his face. "Time to play," he whispered to the stars and winked. And the stars winked back, for Peter's smile is a most contagious thing.

But he was sick of this charade. Sick of watching people lose a little more of their humanity each day, and sick to death of seeing people tortured in the name of God. What had happened to these people?

Your dreams are your spirit, your soul and without them your are dead. You must guard your dreams always. Always. Lest someone steal them away from you. I know what it is to have your dreams stolen. I know what it is to be dead. Guard your dreams. Always guard your dreams.

Christians. They’re determined to rid the land of any who worship the Horned One. Murdering all the druids, burning the temples, sometimes whole villages, and knocking over the standing stones.” The Lady’s face hardened. “This god of peace and love certainly likes to bathe the land in blood.

Men-kind shared this world for but a blink, then, sadly, they became enlightened, found science and religion. The new world of men left little room for magic or the magical creatures of old. Earth’s first children were driven into the shadows by flame and cold iron, by man’s insatiable need of conquest.

Peter stood, cleared his throat, and began to hum softly, then sing, slowly building up the song as his voice cleared. He found the old tune, the song of the Sunbird. And as he sung, as his rich voice echoed off the tall cliffs, the birds and the faeries lent him their voice and soon the tune drifted throughtout the garden.

The darkness is calling. A little danger, a little risk. Feel your heart race. Listen to it. That’s the sound of being alive. It’s your time, Nick. Your one chance to have fun before it’s all stolen by them, the adults, with their cruelty and endless rules, their can’t-do-this, and can’t-do-that’s, their have-tos, and better-dos, their little boxes and cages all designed to break your spirit, to kill your magic.

Share This Page