Go and play. Run around. Build something. Break something. Climb a tree. Get dirty. Get in some trouble. Have some fun.
There's a reason why we're born with brains in our heads, not rocks.
That's the spirit, one part brave, three parts fool.
Everything comes with a price. Everything. Some things just cost more than others.
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?
Your dreams are your spirit, your soul, and without them you are dead.
Men who fear demons see demons everywhere.
Don't let them win. Don't let them beat you. Don't let them steal your magic.
If you don't learn to laugh at life it'll surely kill you, that I know.
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.
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.
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.
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.
But Peter had seen too much, knew too well that men-kind didn't need an excuse to be cruel and murder one another.
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.
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 finds the lost, the left-behind, the abused. Is that not why you are here? Did Peter not save you?
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.
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.
Peter," she whispered and reached out, touching his cheek. "My little Peterbird? You flew back to me.
Peter's face clouded. "Everything comes at a price. Or have you not learned that yet?
Then let us go and be terrible.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: