Daniel

“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.”
― George R.R. Martin

“Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien

“Sleep is good, he said, and books are better.”
― George R. R. Martin

“The Bear and the Maiden Fair


A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair!
The bear! The bear!
Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair!
The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!
All black, and brown, and covered with hair!

And Down the road from here to there.
From here! To There!
Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!
[He] danced and spun, all the way to the Fair!
The Fair! The Fair!

[...]

Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair!

[The bear,] smelled the scent on the summer air.
The bear! The bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair.
He smelled the scent on the summer air!
He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!
Honey on the summer air!

Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
He lifted her high into the air!
The bear! The bear!

I called for a knight, but you're a bear!
A bear! A bear!
All black and brown and covered with hair!
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,
But he licked the honey from her hair,
Her hair! Her hair!

Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.

~"The Bear and the Maiden Fair",”
― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones