51 Quotes About Faery

  • Author Holly Black
  • Quote

    Let her alone,' said the enkanto, 'or I will curse you blind, lame, and worse.'The old man laughed. 'I'm a curse breaker, fool.'The elf grabbed one of the Jim Beam bottles from the table and slammed it down, so that he was holding a jagged glass neck. The elf smiled a very thin smile. 'Then I won't bother with magic.

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  • Author Signe Pike
  • Quote

    I don't really believe in faeries. But I really want to. Not just for me, but for all of us. Because we are battered by adulthood- by taxes, by loss, by laundry. by nine to five, by deceit and distrust, by the crushing desire to be thin, successful, popular, happy, in love. All the while we are walking on a planet that is disintigrating around us.

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  • Author W.B. Yeats
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    He had many strange sights to keep him cheerful or to make him sad. I asked him had he ever seen the faeries, and got the reply, 'Am I not annoyed with them?' I asked too if he had ever seen the banshee. 'I have seen it,' he said, 'down there by the water, batting the river with its hands.' ("A Teller of Tales")

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  • Author Freedom Matthews
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    The creature which stood before me was no bigger than a child, yet I would have sworn she was wood nymph. With pointed ears, translucent skin and a halo of woodland flowers in her silvery hair, the small woman held a strange presence. Besides the creature's obvious beauty, I couldn't draw my gaze away from her magnificent opaque wings. They fluttered in the breeze like the leaves above us.

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  • Author Melissa Marr
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    Like many faeries she knew, he was sculpture-perfect, but instead of being wrought of shadows like those in her court, this faery had a tangled feel to him. Shadow and radiance. He didn‘t look much older than her, until she saw the arrogance in his posture. Then, he reminded her of Irial, of Bananach, of Keenan, of the faeries who walked through courts and crowds confident that they could slaughter everyone in the room. Like chaos in a glass cage.

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  • Author William Butler Yeats
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    A daughter of a King of Ireland, heardA voice singing on a May Eve like this,And followed half awake and half asleep,Until she came into the Land of Faery,Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise,Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue.And she is still there, busied with a danceDeep in the dewy shadow of a wood,Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.

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