Folklore And Mythology Quotes

“She would let her soul hide while her body was consumed with magic, fire, and boiling blood. A riveting communion.”
― J.Z.N. McCauley, The Oathing Stone

“Part of me felt like I was throwing my life away, for a guy I barely knew. But I wasn’t just doing it for him. Since my parents died, I’d had absolutely no control over my life. If I really thought about it, maybe I’d given up control long before—that day in Oregon when I almost drowned. Since then, I’d always relied on others to take care of me. Maybe it was time to take my life back into my own hands… even if it meant growing fins.”
― D.S. Murphy

“I see folktales and myths as humankind's first stories. They are a kind of collective dreaming, filled with timeless symbols and images we can all relate to, regardless of age or culture.”
― Marianna Mayer

“Faerie footprints are specks of magic that the earth couldn't bear to part with.”
― J.Z.N. McCauley, The Oathing Stone

“Folklore, myth, you know.”

“That’s just fiction that’s old.”
― Adrian Tchaikovsky, And Put Away Childish Things

“The origin of the term kamikakushi, “spirited away” is said to be unknown, but in the end, it’s all about the same thing. Killing children in times of famine.”
― Kanji Hanawa, Backlight

“Magic is the first language of the world. It was the language before words, before mathematics. Humanity can accept concepts like space travel to other galaxies, and yet magic can only be real in the minds of those who believe it, or in the imagination of children.”
― Rosella Testa, The Lost Pleiades: Seven Sisters and the Sibyls

“Behind every legendary monster, there is an unknown tragedy.”
― Julie Deshtor

“Viņa tic, ka ir mirušo pasaule, klusa un pilna palsas miglas, kas guļ no mūžības gar rāmās miroņupes krastiem un šajos krastos saaugušiem veļu vītoliem. Tur nav mocību, prieka nav un nava arī saules - tik klusums liels bez gala un dūmaku vienmēr pilns gaiss kā rudzu sējai labā rudens miglas rītā.”
― Aleksandrs Grīns, Tobago

“Myths, legends, and fables frequently tell us more about the human race than studying history does. G.K. Chesterton said, ‘Fable is more historical than fact, because fact tells us about one man and fable tells us about a million men.’ The whispering voices of our ancestor’s fables warn us about conspiracy, death, deception, and trickery. There exist inside some of us multiple voices clamoring that something crucial is missing from our fateful lives. Author Jenifer Salaiz said, ‘Writers are nothing more than borderline schizophrenics who are able to control their voices.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls

“The tall cityscape that was Anchorage encroached on the wide skies. It was like a giant walking and uninhabited, unclaimed land.”
― Suzy Davies, The Girl in The Red Cape

“Mas gugustuhin ko ang mundong ligtas," sabi niya, "na walang mga nilalang na tulad nating pwedeng maglagay sa buhay ng iba sa panganib.”
― Alex Rosas, Watching People's Feet III

“Who is that person in your family who has never abused anyone? Who is that ancestor from whom you can draw your own strength?
If you cannot find such a person, then You must become the one.”
― Alenka Kranjac, Vilinska kri

“I carry my wounds with pride, because they mean I fought for my freedom.”
― Alenka KRANJAC, Mara, vilinska kraljična

“Saying NO is also an act of liberation!”
― Alenka KRANJAC

“His snowshoe paws are encased in chains as he hops on his hind legs. On his forehead was placed a wreath of thorns, crimson and blasphemous it was.

His eyes were drenched in white, no colors can be discerned whatsoever in the reflection of his pupils, only a harrowing stillness of nothingness can be glimpsed through his gaze.

He was the image of a ghostly figure, his silhouette swirling like the clouds in the loftiest mountains in eternal Paradise; a divine messenger before all animals and humanity.

He wears shimmering chest armor resembling the scorching rays of the sunlight, with a fire crown of thorns burning on his forehead, which embodies the colors of the Earth's horizon, showcasing seventeen stars in its center. He had a voluminous, metallic beard, which was made of arctic sand from the Northern Winter lands - it was wizardly like - something out of a mythical folk tale that comes from a children's novel.

His body glistens like the shattered fragments from the Moon, with his fur appearing like green moss surrounded by waterfalls flowing from each corner on his appearance - evolving into snowflakes, ice, as well as winter storms if you inflict your might at his anguish.

He’s a supernatural being that all the Witches of the globe worshiped. He is greater, more superior, more virtuous than all deities people pray to on Earth. He’s the lunar father of all the Heavens and Earth, the All-father of all Animals and Mankind.

When you see the Hare flying in the skies of the Universe, He’s bestowing the blessings of Sprout, Summer, Autumn, Winter.

As the Hare Lunar King steps on the green grass, the mountains will begin to shake, the oceans will become huge typhoons, earthquakes will rumble across the nations as mankind annihilates each other in the guise of the Hare Lunar Emperor.

However, the hare will grieve for all humankind, for he knows that the Earth is devoid of vengeance, so he must demolish it in preparation to reconstruct it from a pristine foundation. That future is nigh, that soon will arrive - it’s unfolding as I converse.

The Lunar Rabbit King is coming back with his swarm of rabbits - mankind will not evade the menace of long ears - for their King will tell the sinister world with a voice of a thundering lion roar, ‘it is completed! go into the depths of your abysmal eternity, and enslave yourself as the locust of the earth in the fires of tribulation, for you will be tormented from sunrise to sunset, where sunlight is no more; forevermore.”
― Chains On The Rabbit, The Lunar God Of All, The Fall Of Mankind Fantasy Poem by D.L. Lewis

“He wept gray tears in his anguish. All the crossings he traversed across have dissipated into nothing. His psyche is a vessel of brittleness. Throughout his tear-filled eyes, the crow's feather swirls; finding himself lost in a labyrinth, searching for a way to free himself from his scars.

Through his misdeeds, he creates more mysteries and mazes. Each piece of bread that he steps upon is covered with thorns, needles; barbed wire, hooks; and every sharp point from his own mistakes, making him feel the consequences of his own indulging indulgence.

For him, the only truths he can uncover are those that reside inside of him, and the Demon inside him does not want him to uncover them. By looking into his own mirror, he can see his nemesis before his eyes, the affliction that keeps him from the true meaning of his existence: himself and the subconscious he is governed by. The battle is between him and himself.

From within, the rabbit is perishing, he is trying to figure out how to escape. When the Almighty has switched off the illumination of his radiance in the rabbit's life, there’s no paradise when Hades keeps on existing.

Revelation misled him into believing he could be redeemed as he is unwell in discomfort, so he must resolve this conflict alone to find his healing.

In retrospect, the previous entryway has been sealed. Through this journey of our missteps; restoration can be attained.
Rehabilitating ourselves requires dismantling the demons within us to reach redemption.

We must frolic like this rabbit lost in our own personal awareness, for we are all enmeshed in the maze of our own consciousness.”
― Upon The Broken Hands, The Rabbit Looks Through The Mirror Poem by D.L. Lewis

“With a rose garden blanket thrown on her legs that matched her roosari, her scarf, she ran her liver-spotted hand across her left arm and said, “A hunter in Lorestan was hunting for wild goats. He spots one and chases it into a cave. He waited outside until the goat came out of the cave. When the goat finally comes out, he shoots it in the head and it dies on the spot. He approaches the goat and sees it had a wet goatee. He immediately knew there was water in the cave. So he went inside and after a fifteen-minute drop to the bottom he discovers a carved room filled with gold. There was so much gold that he could build an entire house with it. He starts to go back to the cave day by day to collect the gold. The people in his village figured there was something suspicious going on with the hunter so a few of them followed him once. They then discovered the hidden gold too. They all agreed that since he never shared it with the rest of the tribe, he should be killed. They killed him and started to take the gold themselves. Eventually all of the villagers dispersed throughout the country and the gold was nowhere to be found. Some say it is abroad and some say it is scattered all over the country. But what do I know? I never saw it because I lost both my eyes during the war.”
― Soroosh Shahrivar, Tajrish

“You are an insufferably wonderful reprieve from my darkness.”
― T. Inmnan

“You are an insufferably wonderful reprieve from my darkness.”
― T. Inman

“It would have been a lovely evening had it not been for the unfortunate circumstance of my death”
― T. Inman, From Within the Woods:

“Mathieu didn’t know at all what to do about May. He felt a kind of nausea, probably induced by the regular movement of the ball. She was having religious fits again. Jesus Christ, she thought, how many thousands of years will it take people to get over their folklore?
There was nothing he could do about that now. She wouldn’t listen to all the scientific explanations and would go on imagining things. People will always keep imagining things. It was impossible to convince them that there is nothing there. Nothing at all. Only matter. Particles. Energy.”
― Romain Gary, The Gasp

“On the first of October they arrived. They gathered in places they could see the whole island, the rolling hills and the farmland. Sitting in trees and on curbs, on barns and along low pasture walls. Across from the church and atop the green moss-glow of the epitaph in the shadows of the high street. In October the crows always came in threes.”
― Emma Seckel

“A night when the old year stumbles and the new is yet to be born, a night when time does not flow but pools, and everything that could be, is.”
― Lili Hayward, A Midwinter's Tail

“Youth and foolishness share the same bed.”
― Rania Hanna, The Jinn Daughter

“The Dead of Winter by Stewart Stafford

In truth, winter is the dead's season,
Their graveyard chill touches Earth,
The skeleton moon's danse macabre,
As the darkened Sun heralds rebirth.

Wild hunters of Christmas Eve skies,
Mighty Odin or Arthur leading all,
Hellhounds, fiery steeds, chase,
To feast in a Valhalla or Camelot hall.

Assemble at the hearth, my kindred,
Share unnerving tales of gothic fright,
Raised pulses as spectral guests join us,
Frayed nerves spiked on this haunted night.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“What a funny, cruel thing to be reminded of what you'll never again experience.”
― E.L. Footman, Echo Chamber

“You know, there's only one real competition in this world, and that's the battle of the sexes. See, war between religions, nations, and militaries will end someday, but the battle of the sexes is eternal.”
― Ak Welsapar, The Tale of Aypi

“A deliciously slow-burning tale of maternal fury, folklore, and the saltwater price of stolen things. This isn’t a love story. It’s a reckoning.”
― Lori Hettler

“Folklore is the arts of the people before they find out that there is any such thing as art.”
― Zora Neale Hurston