Bernie Morris > Quotes

“Times change and people change and you can never go back to the way things were and find them to be the same - they won't be.”
― Bernie Morris

“Tam was saying: ‘AN EVIL THOUGHT OR ACTION WOULD HAVE TO BE COMMITTED AT – OR JUST PRIOR TO THE MOMENT OF CONCEPTION. THIS SEEMS MOST UNLIKELY BETWEEN TRUE LOVERS. THEREFORE THE CHANCE OF THIS MUTATION OCCURING IS ABOUT ONE IN A MILLION.’ The screen darkened. Tam would say no more. The Mind never surmised or deliberated; that was for man creatures to do. She simply stated fact.
‘Well...’ Grom turned to face his mystified Council. ‘Has anyone got any ideas?’
There was an expectant silence as everyone looked at everyone else. Griff seemed about to speak, and then changed his mind.
Then Tameron (the seer) stepped forward. Her dark eyes were wide with horror at the awful revelation which had just come to her. Her step faltered as she moved towards the king, and he reached with his hands to steady her. She did not want to tell what she knew, but was compelled to speak the truth. This was something the Fae had to know.
‘My Lord...’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and she trembled uncontrollably as she struggled to find courage to betray one of her own. ‘My Lord... This creature is the seed of Griff.’
There was a stunned silence.”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“A lady is a female person who has the grace to consider the feelings of others before her own, at all times, and in all places. It has nothing to do with fine clothes or posh accent, or how much money her father's got. A lady is naturally born and cannot be moulded or trained to be anything else. She just is.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“The time has come for tears to start again,
Those faithful tears that always ease the pain.
Release the raging rivers of my soul!
Let me drown and then rise up again.

Let me drown until the river dries,
until the numbing coldness settles in.
See the world once more with empty eyes,
no spark of warmth can penetrate the skin.
Crash the thunder! Howl the wind!
Freeze my heart and beat the driving rain!
Let me know these dreams are empty lies.
Let me die and come to life again.

In the silent darkness of my mind,
let me wonder who you really are.
Let me feel that you were just a dream.
That fades on waking like the morning star”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“THE FAEN COLONIAL RULE

The Faen Colonial Rule was laid down by Elfira, the first Faen Queen of Omega, in the year A.E. 91.
The Faen Colonial Rule states:

No Faen creature may copulate with a mortal, unless the said mortal is of exceptionally fine character. In such a case, his/her suitability and final acceptance must be decided by a Faen Royal. Even then, the chosen mortal must be given three days to reach his/her own decision. Immortality must not be endowed lightly, for a number of reasons.

Elfira was young to be a queen. She was renowned for her unwise decisions.
But in this instance, she was perfectly right. The Faen Colonial Rule was the wisest ever made, as you will discover...”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“Innocence, a fleeting thing
Like the blossoms of the spring
Like the pretty butterfly
Dancing now, but soon to die.
Not for long that wondering gaze
All too soon those baby days—
Are gone.”
― Bernie Morris, Verse for Ages

“All her pent-up misery and frustration broke loose with a vengeance, and she yelled at him, ‘You expect me to TRUST YOU?’ Her brain felt like a live coal, spitting sparks. ‘You expect me to go out with YOU! – when you tell me bare-faced LIES? D'you think I'm FUCKING STUPID?’ She slapped his face just as hard as she had the night before, then stood up and fled the length of the alley; tears streaming – hating herself – hating Bobby – hating the entire rotten, cruel, hateful world – filled with blind, savage, useless hate.
She didn't see the way he laid his head on his knees in despair, nor if he really cried.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“The cold pre-dawn sky was softly grey through the cave opening above, when Griff finally arose and began to retrieve his clothes.
Astelle said, ‘A man like you – I could take full time.’
He smiled regretfully. ‘That is impossible, my darling girl. Even though you are irresistibly sweet to me, you are not suitable to join the Faen race, and I am not prepared to live among Morts.’
‘Suppose I should have a child?’ she asked. ‘You have put enough seed in me to make a dozen babies.’
‘You will not,’ he said with conviction. ‘A Faen child can be conceived only in love, and we don't have that, do we?’ Griff was quite sure that she thought nothing of him, even though she had left his emotions in turmoil. Damned bitch! She had stolen from him.
‘I would not know if we did. I don't understand how love should feel.’
‘If you loved, you would know it,’ he told her. And you would not steal from your love, he thought fiercely.
He was buckling his sword belt over the black tunic.
She did not notice the shaking of his hands; she simply thought what a fine manly figure he made, and she realised how much she wanted him to stay. ‘If I did have a child – could I let you know somehow?’ Astelle clutched at the only strand of hope she could find.
He strove to reassure her. ‘We do have mindlink, which means you only have to mindwhisper my name, if you ever need me – I will come.’ But he did not think this very likely.
‘Please don't go, Griff.’ She was almost tearful.
‘I have to go – before the sun rises.’ He then kissed her with unexpected tenderness, which made her feel even worse.
‘Use those jewels wisely.’ He smiled and winked at her, then looked into her eyes for a few more moments, seriously – almost wistfully.
Then he just vanished before her very eyes.

He had forgotten his black forest cloak. It lay on the floor at the end of the bed. Astelle picked it up and held it close to her body.
She watched the red streaks of dawn spread across the cold grey sky, framed in the rocky aperture above her.
If you loved, you would know it, he had said.
She had never felt more lonely or deserted in her life.
Unexplained tears slid slowly down her cheeks.

And that was how Griff broke the Faen Colonial Rule.”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“Gemini’s the coolest guy
With the very latest view.
He quickly loses interest though
And moves to pastures new.”
― Bernie Morris, Verse for Ages

“At last they came to the lower slopes of the great mountains. Here she met a wild and bedraggled boy. He stumbled across her when she had stopped to rest and suckle the baby. The boy stared at the unlikely pair for a moment, then seated himself on the ground at a respectful distance, obviously preparing to converse. He was the strangest looking boy she had ever seen. Evidently a changeling like herself, for he was tall and straight with long slender limbs, but his hair was golden like the sun and his eyes a deep blue like the sky. He looked to be about fifteen years old, not quite a man, yet man enough to survive. She guessed he must have originated from the fabled district of Shor, in the far south, where it was rumoured that all the people were changelings, and all golden-haired.
Astelle tensed, fully expecting Torking to deliver one of his pain bolts to the curious boy, but the child seemed unperturbed, and simply carried on suckling. This boy's attention was obviously not deemed as a threat. She relaxed and smiled at the youth.
He returned the smile, white teeth startling against his tanned and dirty face. ‘Why are you travelling all alone?’ he asked.
Encouraged by Torking's mindwhispers, Astelle managed to concoct a story very close to the truth.
‘As you can see, my child is rather unusual,’ she explained. ‘I could not bear to raise him among mortals who would constantly deride and insult him – and his father has left me, so I had no choice but to run from my tribe.’
Sympathy appeared in the deep blue eyes. ‘I understand that very well,’ he said. ‘I am an escaped slave. I was captured in infancy, and have no memory of my own people, but all my life I have been mocked and abused because I am different. My name is Bren. I would like to travel with you, if you don't mind. I could take care of you both.’
‘Keep him,’ Torking mindwhispered. ‘He will be useful to fish and hunt for us. But do not tell him that I speak to you.’
Astelle smiled. ‘Thank you Bren,’ she said. ‘I will be glad of your company. I am called Astelle.’
‘A Faen name...’ he said wonderingly.
They began to climb the mountains of Clor.”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“Aries is the forward type.
He doesn't lose his head,
except when rushing headlong in
where angels fear to tread.”
― Bernie Morris, ABC of Astrology

“The child, Nika, whirled around and saw the Bat Fae; he who would become a legend upon Omega, to be used by mortal parents as a dire warning to their errant children.
For several moments she just stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, for she had never seen anyone so beautiful. His violet-black eyes mesmerised her, their sparkling depths seemed to draw her to him, and she was unwilling and unable to look away from them. But she also noted his huge bat wings, his pointed ears, the pale gold of his skin which actually seemed to glow, and the coloured iridescence of his hair.
Torking eyed her robust little body, and he almost drooled. What a tasty little morsel!”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“A man is supposed to be fierce. A man is a hunter and a warrior. A MAN beats his mate because she is smaller and gentler than he is (Okor scowled as he thought this). A man should not be gentle. All other creatures on earth walk in fear of the one called Man.”
― Bernie Morris, The Strange One

“In my house, to this very day, in the bottom of a deep drawer, wrapped in a plastic bag to guard against time and dust - lies a white, fluffy, toy bear. It has blue glass eyes. Sometimes I take this out of its wrapper, just to hold it, and remember…
And that is all that remains in this world - of the sweetest thing.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“Times change and people change, and you can never go back to the way things were and find them to be the same - they won't be.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“Bobby's back yard hadn't changed since she was knee-high. It was still littered with bicycle bits and pieces of engine that he was always tinkering with. It looked like the same relentless weeds bravely struggled through the cracked flagstones; the same array of socks and T-shirts flapped on the washing line, though somewhat bigger, and even the same wasps droned around the dustbin. That's how it seemed – a place immune to time.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“Jack and John

Jack Spratt was much too fat
John Spratt was far too lean
And so between the two of them
They made a dreadful scene.
Jack Spratt got stuck inside the door
While John fell down a drain
And what with all the noise they made
The neighbours did complain.”
― Bernie Morris, Verse for Ages

“The child was a boy – beautiful in the face, with a great mop of silky black hair. He was perfectly formed, but there was something attached to his back. Estelle gasped with horror when she discovered the baby had black, leathery wings, like those of a bat, neatly folded on his back.
The Fae did not have wings!
Somewhere she had heard that they used to have – long ago. Maybe her child was a throwback? But what would her father think of a baby with wings? She tried again to call Griff, to tell him his child was born.
There was a terrible sharp pain in her head, then a fierce whisper that seemed to fill her mind. ‘Don't call HIM! I forbid you to call HIM ever!’
The child's eyes had opened.
They were beautiful Faen eyes – an impossible colour of violet-black and much too intelligent for a new-born baby.
Worse than that – they were evil!”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“Griff entered the cave, sword in hand. He had no desire to frighten Astelle, but he had to be prepared for anything.
She jumped up from her fireside position with a small stifled scream at his entry, then continued to back fearfully towards the shadowed wall.
She was quite alone. Griff could sense no other presence – only hers, and the wonder of it. He sheathed his sword, and gazed upon his long-lost love.
Her hair had lost all trace of colour while still retaining the texture of youth, giving the appearance of white silk. There was a pulsating light of a blue-lilac shade which clung to the crown of her head, reflecting in the hair – a soul – a lost spirit – someone who had loved her. She was almost as pale as death, for Torking took far too much blood from her, too frequently. She was also much thinner than she should have been, but for all of this, she was still the most beautiful sight of his life.
Her body was ravaged with Torking's bites and claw-marks. She was still wearing his old cloak which Griff instantly recognised, though it was little more than a rag, wrapped around her body and tied on one shoulder. Her beautiful dark eyes, those which had so haunted his dreams, seemed over-large in her pale face, as she stared at him with a mingling of shock, disbelief and joy.
Griff took a few hesitant steps towards her, unsure of his reception. ‘Astelle?’ His voice grated with emotion.
How often had she yearned to hear him speak her name exactly in that way?
‘Astelle – is it really you?’
He was just as divinely handsome as she remembered, and he looked so fine – he looked magnificent in Gremlen battledress. In the flickering torchlight, the blue krulmesh armour glittered over the black leather tunic. The emerald sheen in his raven hair was vivid as ever. Best of all, his dark forest-green eyes were shining with love, and she suddenly understood that Griff was a hundred times more beautiful than Torking, for his eyes held everything that was good, fine and noble. Astelle's heart almost stopped beating as she gazed at him. Her eyes filled with tears, and her lip trembled as she tried to whisper his name.”
― Bernie Morris, The Fury of the Fae

“Virgo is particular; she'll wear a worried frown
while she straightens up your tie
and dusts your shoulders down.”
― Bernie Morris, ABC of Astrology

“Times change and people change - and you can never go back to the way things were and find them to be the same - they won't be.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“It pains me to see how modern society has totally corrupted the limerick and given it the reputation of lewdness which, in turn, has morally barred our children from even taking a peek into this wonderful form of fun and rhythm. I think Edward Lear would turn in his grave if he knew that.
I have therefore decided to reinvent the limerick as it was originally intended: to poke fun, irreverence, just plain daftness, or erroneous behaviour.”
― Bernie Morris, An A - Z of Looney Limericks

“Leo is the King of signs
He’ll always run the show
But don’t you steal his thunder
Simply bask within his glow”
― Bernie Morris, ABC of Astrology

“They say that time is the greatest healer, but let me tell you this: there are some things that can never be healed. Sometimes you think these things are gone and can never hurt you again - like a snake in a basket - quite safe, until you take off the lid. I have taken the lid off the basket, and the snake still bites. Its fangs are long and sharp.”
― Bernie Morris, Bobby's Girl

“Deflated, but not defeated, Peter wondered what to do next. So, she was three years older. What did that matter? Why did girls make so much fuss about that kind of thing? What was a few years? He was a man, wasn’t he?
It drizzled all through the Rovers’ home game, and Peter consoled himself with the thought that Paula wouldn’t have enjoyed this anyway.
That evening, he scrutinised his face in the bathroom mirror. He did look a bit boyish, he decided. Large brown eyes and dimples didn’t help. He practised a macho scowl, then a lecherous leer. Paula wouldn’t fancy either of those. He just couldn’t be anything but his natural self. Yet how could he make her accept him as an equal?”
― Bernie Morris, sweets for my sweet

“How beautiful the universe
What little we can see
The shimmering stars
The silver moon
The timeless melody.

Are we goldfish in a bowl
Doomed eternally
To swim around our little world
And think it is the sea?
And that we are the masters?”
― Bernie Morris, Verse for Ages

“Since my school days when I accidentally discovered this form of verse called ‘Limerick’, I have often wondered about the origin of the name. Was it invented in Ireland perhaps? After some research and several years, I think not. The limerick must have been invented long before it reached the jocular pubs of Limerick in Ireland where the Irish undoubtedly made very good use of it whilst consuming copious amounts of Guinness.”
― Bernie Morris, An A - Z of Looney Limericks

“Rosalind was the kind of girl who didn’t have to try very hard; she just drew men like moths to a flame. A natural ash blonde with unbelievably dark blue eyes, she had a near perfect figure, always wore the trendiest gear and said exactly the right witty things.
Not like me. I’m no raving beauty by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve got masses of dark unruly hair which just sort-of hangs around, and I buy only clothes which suit me regardless of fashion. I wouldn’t be seen dead in a mini-skirt – as I’m rather tall with long slim legs, I think I’d look like Olive Oyl.”
― Bernie Morris, sweets for my sweet

“Tower Bridge looked very grand in its new coat of blue, cream and gold paint. Gone was the dingy black and white of my youth. But otherwise it was just the same: gulls screaming overhead, and black water rushing past beneath. A magnificent view of the Tower from here. I took some pictures just for the record; then continued towards the East End which was only a short walk away. This would be the most painful part of my journey.”
― Bernie Morris, sweets for my sweet

“Look Jane!” Brenda nudged her daughter. “Look who’s over there!”
“Damn!” Jane had smudged the fingernail she’d been painting. A tiny frown of exasperation marred her pretty face. Then she brightened as she saw him – Richard from accounts, jostling at the bar with the rest of the lunchtime crowd. “What’s he doing here?” she wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t have thought this was his scene.”
“Don’t be silly!” Brenda admonished. “It’s a hot day. Lots of people fancy a cold lager with their lunch. It’s perfectly natural.” She sometimes despaired at her daughter’s lack of insight. How could such a pretty girl be so empty-headed? And when would Jane ever find a steady boyfriend? Brenda had high hopes for Richard in this direction. He was old enough to be a good influence; brilliantly clever; in line for promotion – he would be perfect for Jane.
“Call him over, Mum!” Jane suggested excitedly.”
― Bernie Morris, sweets for my sweet