g l a m o u r b o m b   w o r d s

(fea Elentáro nai elwenna caluva, "May the Spirit of the Queen of the Stars shine down upon us")

(elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, "A star shines on the hour of our meeting")

Faeries are not fantasy, but a connection to reality. Faeries are irrational, poetic, absurd, and very, very wise. Faeries say there is nonsense in dogma, and sense in nonsense. Faeries express themselves with high seriousness and low humour. Faeries are resistant to all definitions. (Brian Froud)

Memory, prophecy, and fantasy - past, future, and the dreaming moment between - are all one country, living one immortal day. To know that is Wisdom. To use it is the Art. (Clive Barker)

We do not seek to convert anyone...only the Elven have any interest in being Elves. Yet in many, their elfin natures slumber and for these we sing the songs of awakening - Whether there ever were Elves is not as important to us as the fact that by manifestation, will, and burning desire, we are here now. (The Silver Elves)

I want to touch the heart of the world and make it smile. I want to be a friend of elves and live in a tree. Or under a hill. I want to marry a moonbeam and hear the stars sing. I don't want to pretend at magic anymore. I want to be magic. (Charles de Lint)

I want to torture the people who don't understand the world of faeries. You'll get some reporter from Vogue who doesn't know what she's talking about, who paints me as some insipid Tinkerbell character. I'm not some shivering waif in the forest. Sometimes I want to grab those bitches by the hair and take them to the world of faerie and say, "would you like to repeat that?" I think that people who can't believe in faeries aren't worth knowing. (Tori Amos)

…I heard first a music as of bells going away, away into that wondrous underland whither, as legend relates, the Danaan gods withdrew; and then the heart of the hills was opened to me, and I knew there was no hill for those who were there, and they were unconscious of the ponderous mountain piled above the palaces of light, and the winds were sparkling and diamond clear, yet full of colour as an opal, as they glittered through the valley, and I knew the Golden Age was all about me, and it was we who had been blind to it but that it had never passed away from the world. (AE (George William Russell), The Candle of Vision)

But you do, you have magic. Maybe you can't find it, but it's there! You have all the power you need, if you dare to look for it. (The Last Unicorn)

I am a creature of the wood,
forsaken in my solitude
My song is pleasure and is pain,
my song can drive a man insane
So come with me, my pipes I'll play,
and we will dance 'till break of day
I shall be thy lover
I've been alive since time began,
not beast, not god, and yet not man
I am the music and the dance,
I am the piper who enchants
So loose all ties to mortal kind,
my pipes shall play within thy mind
I shall be thy lover
(from Heather Alexander, "Creature of the Wood")

Conjuring things that have never been and walking among them, touching, feeling, and responding: Imagining allows you to fancifully sail into the future to explore and to bring back the gems - the thoughts, feelings, ideas, and concepts - that are waiting there, that are waiting there just for you. Remember: Always imagine. Always imagine, and always cherish your ability to do so. (Lazaris)

Obscured in adaptation and cynicism, bound by incredulity, magic was once lost in silence. Magic is awakening. You can hear its call. (Lazaris)

You are never given a wish without being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however. (Lazaris)

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night, in the dusty recesses of their minds awake in the day to find that all was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes and make it happen. (T. E. Lawrence)

The People of the Hills don't care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors... Butterfly wings, indeed! (Rudyard Kipling, "Weland's Sword", Puck of Pook's Hill)

Humans think they know what reality is, what life's about. They think they know because they think. "I think, therefore I know." Their attitude is "I'm at the top of the food chain, so I get to decide what's real and what's not." What they don't want to be, simply doesn't exist. Except, perhaps, in their dreams. Or nightmares. So they end up watching the shadows on the wall of the cave, thinking that's how the world really is. They never look at the things throwing the shadows... (Nancy Collins, In the Blood)

The hoot of the owl we'll follow with care
Jack o' Green, Will o' Wisp, Robin and Puck
She'll lead us a goat-path no mortal should dare:
Come, off to the woodland to drink the moon's luck!
The tracks of Tod-Low'ry shall show us the way
Jack o' Green, Will o' Wisp, Robin and Puck
To glades which are hidden in harsh light of day:
Come, off to the woodland to drink the moon's luck!
We'll rade on the ridge at the top of the hill
Jack o' Green, Will o' Wisp, Robin and Puck
And humans shall find the wind suddenly chill:
Come, off to the woodland to drink the moon's luck!
Singing fey music from moonrise 'til dawn
Jack o' Green, Will o' Wisp, Robin and Puck
And as sudden we came, we'll sudden be gone:
Come, off to the woodland to drink the moon's luck!
We'll steal through the forest, which often at night
Jack o' Green, Will o' Wisp, Robin and Puck
Holds many a wonder for fairy delight:
Come, off to the woodland to drink the moon's luck!
The meadow-brook's waters to touch and to taste
Jack o' Green, Will o' Wisp, Robin and Puck,
With twilight upon us I bid ye make haste!
Come ye, o follow, to drink the moon's luck!
(Eshari, "Drink the Moon's Luck")

Where the water whispers mid the shadowy rowan-trees
I have heard the Hidden People like the hum of swarming bees:
And when the moon as risen and the brown burn glisters grey
I have seen the Green Host marching in laughing disarray.
Dalua then must sure have blown a sudden magic air
Or with the mystic dew have sealed my eyes from seeing fair:
For the great Lords of Shadow who tread the deeps of night
Are no frail puny folk who move in dread of mortal sight.
For sure Dalua laughed now, Dalua the fairy Fool,
When with his wildfire eyes he saw me 'neath the rowan-shadowed pool:
His touch can make the chords of life a bitter jangling tune,
The false glows true, the true glows false, beneath his moontide rune.
The laughter of the Hidden Host is terrible to hear,
The Hounds of Death would harry me at lifting of a spear:
Mayhap Dalua made for me the hum of swarming bees
And sealed my eyes with dew beneath the shadowy rowan-trees.
(Fiona Macleod (William Sharp), "The Lords of Shadow")

Behind the Legions of the Sun, the Star Battalions of the night,
The reddening of the West I see, from morn till dusk, from dusk till light.
A day must surely come at last, and that day soon,
When the Hidden People shall march out beneath the Crimson Moon.
Our palaces shall crumble then, our towers shall fall away,
And on the plains our burning towns shall flaunt a desolate day:
The cities of our pride shall wear tiaras of red flame,
And all our phantom glory be an idle wind-blown name.
What shall our vaunt be on that day, or who thereon shall hear
The laughter of our laughing lips become the wail of fear?
Our vaunt shall be the windy dust in eddies far and wide,
The hearing, theirs who follow us with swift and dreadful stride.
A cry of lamentation, then, shall sweep from land to land:
A myriad wavering hands shall shake above a myriad strand:
The Day shall swoon before a Shade of vast ancestral Night,
Till a more dreadful Morn awake to flood and spume of light.
This is the prophecy of old, before the running tribes of Man
Spread Multitude athwart the heirdom of an earlier Clan -
Before the gods drank Silence, and hid their way with cloud,
And Man uprose and claimed the Earth and all the starry crowd.
So Man conceived and made his dream, till at the last he smiled to see
Its radiant skirts brush back the stars from Immortality:
He crowned himself with the Infinite, and gave his Soul a Home,
And then the quiet gods awoke and blew his life to foam.
This is the Dream I see anew, when all the West is red with light,
Behind the Legions of the Sun, the Star Battalions of the night.
Verily the day may come at last, and that day soon,
When the Hidden People shall march out beneath the Crimson Moon.
(Fiona Macleod (William Sharp), "The Crimson Moon")

see through the veil
and truth in the sight
inner gates open
and let in the night
greensilver glamourlight
sparkle inside
ultrablueviolet
and starlight abide
(Eshari)

Bale-fires on the dark moor light your journey between the worlds;
here may one meet the mighty dead beside the central pool
& find the making place in the wood whence all things grow.
Let yourself learn from the great shades' language, called through the flying air -
this the heart had always known, although, on returning, it remember never a word.
The wood stands eternal - follow others who were lighted
to the never-changing place where you may reach all worlds,
and recognize your source, the well of the golden head that sings.
(unknown, "Bale-Fires on the Dark Moor")

Unborn, unmourned
she moves through the dreamer's world
where a druid star calls
beyond your blessings;
from his carven halls she draws him
to the bleak uplands of Vision,
the glimmering mountain and chill runes
that enchant his half-sleep,
madden his waking judgement.
Let him not scorn the goddess
not the seas & rocks of scarlet
where she leads his true dream.
(Sally Purcell, "Sidhe")

We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world forever, it seems.
(Arthur O'Shaughnessy, "Ode")

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. (Edgar Allen Poe)

Fiction is art and art is the triumph over chaos... to celebrate a world that lies spread out around us like a bewildering and stupendous dream. (John Cheever)

Don't you know that this is a fairy tale, and all fun and pretence; and that you are not to believe one word of it, even if it is true? (Charles Kingsley, The Water Babies)

The end of the world is not an event to come, it is an event of psychological transformation, of visionary transformation. (Joseph Campbell)

There should be less sex in the media and more of it in real life. Sometimes I think the Secret Masters want us to forget what a real kiss is. (Thistle Kachunk)

Between the worlds
of men and gods
there go I.
And it's neither Blasphemy
nor escapism.
It's REALITY, man!
(Susan Sigl)

When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power's the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses. (John F. Kennedy)

If our ways scare
you perhaps you
should ask yourself why--
is it OUR passion
that frightens you
or your own?
(Mage: the Ascension)

If you foolishly ignore beauty, you'll soon find yourself without it. Your life will be impoverished. But if you wisely invest in beauty, it will remain with you all the days of your life. (Frank Lloyd Wright)

Only after the last river has been poisoned, only after the last fish has been caught, only then will you realize that money cannot be eaten. (Cree prophecy)

Wisdom is the knowledge of the laws of the universe, which are greater than each of us alone. And magic is the courage to call upon them. (Janet/Stewart Farrar?)

The future of civilization depends on our overcoming the meaninglessness and hopelessness that characterizes the thoughts of men today. (Albert Schweitzer)

Miracles seem to rest, not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from far off, but upon our perceptions being made finer so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear that which is about us always. (Willa Cather)

There is something inside all of us that yearns not for reason but for mystery... not for penetrating clear thought but for the whisperings of the irrational... not for science but for wizardry disguised as science... not for rationally founded influence but for magic. (Karl Jaspers)

I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it. (Harry Emerson Fosdick)

The church says: The body is a sin.
Science says: The body is a machine.
Advertising says: The body is a business.
The body says: I am a fiesta.
(Eduardo Galeano)

Now is the time when we Elves, Fae, and others will stop passively letting our heritage slip away into the mists of time. Now is the end of helplessness. We will not allow our gifts to atrophy further. We shall bring back true magic; break down the dam that allows only a small trickle of the magical into dominant, mundane reality. It is the imperative of all those who have achieved a personal magical reality to implant those ideas into the consensual reality. The Veil to the Otherworld has thickened over the years. It is our duty, as beings who are still able to perceive and manipulate the Veil because of our non-human heritage, to rend it to the point where magic is as free-flowing as the oxygen we breathe and as commonplace as technology. This will allow our oldest brethren, the True Fae, and other magical creatures to once again live among us in acceptance. We will help those who are caught on this side of the Veil, suffering torment from the lack of magical energies. We will provide a basic magical literacy for the world. (adapted from Morningstar (Adrian Mulvaney), "Elven Nation Manifesto")

I am not the only one who is really not human. There are other Fey out there. There are others out there who are not elves, but are not of this world, either. Stuffed into human bodies as well, there are elves and dragons and were-creatures and beings I cannot define. We are here for a reason, and that reason is to keep the magic alive that so many people on this planet have forgotten to see. A time will come when we will need it. (adapted from "On Being an Elf in a Human's World", post by unknown person probably to elven-realities)

Sit down and listen to a beautiful, wonderful, rich piece of music... don't just hear the tones, but listen - not only with your ears, but with your spirit and with your heart... let the music move through you... become one with you. Then you may get a feeling of what it is like for Fae to communicate. (unknown)

The realms that Elves walk in are areas of twilight. They are areas that are neither one spot or another, but are the areas of interaction between. (Rialian)

The essence of our magical elfin realm is not something we can create by building palaces nor forest sanctuaries. The true Faerie abides within us. It is not out there, but in here, and to find it we must reach into our very souls and become those magical beings we know ours'elves to truly be. Elfland is born from the inside out; it is brought to life by our own radiant being. Elfland is built not by wood nor concrete but by light and shadow woven together by our love. (The Silver Elves)

You didn't come into this world.
You came out of it,
like a wave from the ocean.
You are not a stranger here.
(Alan Watts)

I walk silently
though my steps are music.
I feel the immensity
of the Universe that bore me,
though it exists complete within me.
I stand with Trees that remember my birth,
Though it was I who planted their seeds.
I am ever-young and ever-old
I am ageless and of the Ages.
As I am, I was, and I shall ever be.
I am like nothing else
and yet I am at One with Everything.
I am an Elf.
(Nalissi)

We exist in more than just dreams and fables. We dwell in the sky, the earth, the oceans. We frolic in meadows and forests alike. Our forms are oft hidden from your eyes, though never from your hearts! (unknown)

The world is full of zanies and fools
who don't believe in sensible rules,
and won't believe what sensible people say;
and because these daft and dewy-eyed dopes
keep building up impossible hopes,
impossible things are happening every day.
(from "Impossible/It's Possible" in Cinderella by Rogers and Hammerstein)

clocks are so unnecessary.
when ticking we forget
to remember
we are breathing.
(unknown)

The faery beam upon you,
The stars to glister on you,
A moon of light In the noon of night
Till the firedrake hath o'er gone you.
(Ben Jonson, The Gypsies Metamorphosed)

Enchantment they craft, faerie glamour abounds
Your mind's true fancies... reality found!
Awaken now... Shhhh, not a sound,
For in this moment you may chance to perceive
Reality as t'was meant to be.
(Mark Turner?)

I saw the hosts gathering across the sea
In a land far, wild, and strange
Rallying small peoples to remembrance
Of ways ancient, wild, and free
I saw their shields glitter across the range
I saw them join forces in exuberant dance
I've seen them clinging with their roots
In the old country hiding in the earth
Waiting for a return to the old ways
Beneath the iron empire's boots
Like sleeping seeds seeking rebirth
In inevitable spring's luminous rays
Gathered to the light in secret temples of old
Ancestors guide the dreams of those who ken
Standing stones still vibrate with the land
Round modern hearthfires the stories are told
The stars yet mark the ways to mortal men
Waiting patiently for those who understand
(Lurking Bear (Ian Anderson))

We of Faerie are of the wild magic. We are not creatures of spells and grimoires. We are spells, and we are written of in grimoires. (Neil Gaiman, Sandman #52, "Cluracan's Tale")

You will find something more in woods than in books. Trees and stones will teach you that which you can never learn from masters. (St. Bernard of Clairvaux)

The crazy landscapes behind the faces,
Holding back the forbidden places
Abolished music, lost for ages
The living words of forbidden pages
Though dust has gathered on honest feeling
Forbidden truths through twilight stealing
And in the eyes of the listless faces
Glisten hints of forbidden places
(from Meat Puppets, "Forbidden Places")

As far as I'm concerned, the only difference between fact and what most people call fiction is about fifteen pages in the dictionary. (Charles de Lint)

Faerie music is the wind… and their movement is the play of shadow cast by moonlight, or starlight, or no light at all. Faerie lives like a ghost beside us, but only the city remembers. But then the city never forgets anything. (Charles de Lint, "Ghosts of Wind and Shadow")

The old gods and their magics did not dwindle away into murky memories of brownies and little fairies more at home in a Disney cartoon; rather, they changed. The coming of Christ and Christians actually freed them. They were no longer bound to people's expectations but could now become anything that they could imagine themselves to be. They are still here, walking among us. We just don't recognize them anymore. (Charles de Lint)

If you don't believe in dragons,
it is curiously true
That the dragons you disparage
Choose to not believe in you.
(Jack Prelutsky, The Dragons are Singing Tonight)

Once they all believed in dragons
When the world was fresh and young,
We were woven into legends,
Tales were told and songs were sung,
We were treated with obeisance,
We were honored, we were feared,
Then one day they stopped believing--
On that day, we disappeared.
Now they say our time is over,
Now they say we've lived our last,
Now we're treated with derision
Where we once ruled unsurpassed.
We must make them all remember,
In some way we must reveal
That our spirit lives forever--
We are dragons! We are real!
(Jack Prelutsky, "Once They All Believed In Dragons", The Dragons are Singing Tonight)

No breath of fire, no control of worlds,
no fear under wing, nor virgin girls.
Heart of steel, soul of wind,
a spirit soaring, a Dragon kin.
(unknown)

...there's a world beyond what we can see and touch, and that world lives by its own laws. What may be impossible in this very ordinary world is very possible there, and sometimes the boundaries between the two worlds disappear, and then who can say what is possible and impossible? (David Eddings)

In the midnight forest the dark oak trees are still under the stars. The pale wildflowers in the clearing have furled their petals for the night. Suddenly he appears, a milk-white creature with the proud form of a horse. You may not notice his cloven hoofs or curling beard, but you see the curved neck, the silver mane, the graceful tail. Then he moves his head, and the moonlight runs like sea water along the pearly spiral of his horn. There is no sound, but at the next heart-beat the clearing is once again empty of all but the night. (Georgess McHargu, "The Beasts of Never")

The faery realm is the Primal Land: wherever you are, whatever land you are in, the faery realm is the primal image of that land. It is before and beyond corruption and pollution, hence its legendary names: the Ever Young, the Land of Heart's Desire. (R.J. Stewart, Earth Light)

Why bother with faeryland when we can have soap operas? The sacred land is irrelevant in a pop-video consumer culture. So the worlds move farther apart, and our planet suffers just as our souls suffer. (R.J. Stewart, Earth Light)

Far beyond the world of the cold mind and the stony heart, yet closer than the breath in a frosty dawn is Hy Brasil, the Many-Coloured Land of Heart's Desire! (Olivia Robertson, "Pisces and Cerridwen" ritual)

A man may both walk in legends and on the green earth in the daylight. For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day! (paraphrase from Tolkien)

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
(Tolkien)

The love of the Elves for their land and their works is deeper than the deeps of the Sea, and their regret is undying and cannot be assuaged. (Tolkien)

For the Elves the world moves, and it moves both very swift and very slow. Swift, because they themselves change little, and all else fleets by: it is a grief to them. Slow, because they do not count the running years, not for themselves. The passing seasons are but ripples ever repeated in the long long stream. (Tolkien)

Elves are no smaller than men,
and walk as men do, in this world,
but with more grace than most,
and are not immortal.
Their beauty sets them aside
from other men and from women
unless a woman has that cold fire in her
called poet: with that
she may see them and by its light
they know her and are not afraid
and silver tongues of love
flicker between them.
(Denise Levertov, "The Elves")