Bard Quotes

“I have lived one step away from losing my mind for years. I am quick and accurate in spotting unstable streaks in others.”
― Charlaine Harris, Shakespeare's Landlord

“Now, as I understand it, the bards were feared. They were respected, but more than that they were feared. If you were just some magician, if you'd pissed off some witch, then what's she gonna do, she's gonna put a curse on you, and what's gonna happen? Your hens are gonna lay funny, your milk's gonna go sour, maybe one of your kids is gonna get a hare-lip or something like that — no big deal.

You piss off a bard, and forget about putting a curse on you, he might put a satire on you. And if he was a skilful bard, he puts a satire on you, it destroys you in the eyes of your community, it shows you up as ridiculous, lame, pathetic, worthless, in the eyes of your community, in the eyes of your family, in the eyes of your children, in the eyes of yourself, and if it's a particularly good bard, and he's written a particularly good satire, then three hundred years after you're dead, people are still gonna be laughing, at what a twat you were.”
― Alan Moore

“No, no," said Taran slowly, "It would be folly to think of attacking them." He smiled quickly at Fflewddur. "The bards would sing of us," he admitted, "but we'd be in no position to appreciate it.”
― Lloyd Alexander, The Book of Three

“Bards don’t believe in goodbyes—we know that the roads we walk are winding, and we generally tend to come back to people and places we’ve known and been before, and often at just the right time.” I smiled. “We’ll meet again.”
― Sean Gibson, The Chronicle of Heloise & Grimple

“99% of natural poets discovered their talents through love letters.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson

“A king is a king, but a bard is the heart and soul of the people; he is their life in song, and the lamp which guides their steps along the paths of destiny. A bard is the essential spirit of the clan; he is the linking ring, the golden cord which unites the manifold ages of the clan, binding all that is past with all that is yet to come.”
― Stephen R. Lawhead, The Endless Knot

“The Song of the Winged Ones is a song of celebration, written as though the singer were standing on the Dragon Isle watching the dragons flying in the sun. The words are full of wonder at the beauty of the creatures; and there is a curious pause in the middle of one of the stanzas near the end, where the singer waits a full four measures in silence for those who listen to hear the music of distant dragon wings. It seldom fails to bring echoes of something beyond the silence, and is almost never performed because many bards fear it.

I love it.”
― Elizabeth Kerner

“- Вземете който щете моряк, газил в дълбоки води и срещал смъртта толкова пъти, колкото мен, драснете го с нокът по кожата и отдолу ще намерите философ. Засуканите думи ще са му чужди, гарантирам ви, но ще намерите дълбок и траен усет за мястото му в света.”
― Raymond E. Feist, Magician: Master

“The wind went mute and the trees in the forest stood still. It was time for the last tale.”
― Lawren Leo, Love's Shadow: Nine Crooked Paths

“A society that has no respect, no regard for its bards, its historians, its storytellers, is a society in steep decline, a society that has lost its very soul and may never find its way.”
― Laurence Overmire, The Ghost of Rabbie Burns: An American Poet's Journey Through Scotland

“I always hated...all sad songs. I thought they made happy people miserable. Now I think I understand them better. Bards write them because they can't hold them back. Sadness has got to flow out or it gets stuck and turns bitter.”
― Jonathan Renshaw, Dawn of Wonder

“If you're frightened of the countless number of books in the library, you'll never write anything, until you close your eyes and hold the pen.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson

“A man of your valor deserves not another breath.”
― Craig R. Key, A Sight Unseen

“I knew exactly when the fever had struck. I had been reading Hamlet in an English class at school. Everyone else stumbled, puzzling over the strange words. Then it had been my turn, and the language had suddenly woken in me, so that my heart and lungs and tongue and throat were on fire. Later, I understood that this was why people spoke of Shakespeare as a god. At the time, I felt like weeping. Somebody had released me from dumbness, from utter isolation. I knew that I could live inside these words, that they would give me a a shape, a shell. I had no idea, then, that I would never play Hamlet…. I’m an actor, and in a good year I earn eleven thousand pounds for dressing up as a carrot.”
― Amanda Craig, In a Dark Wood

“Pay to go inside Neruda's home
A body lies there with no dome.
But right there in the front hall
Lean a fairy against the icy wall.
Oh Endless enigmas had the bard!

Nice and large and calm backyard
Ends In the middle of a rare room
Rare portrait of revelishing gloom.
Up climbing at the weird snail stair
Does make you grasp for some air.
And there's a room with bric-a-brac:

Old and precious books all in a pack.
Dare saying what I liked most of all?
Enjoyed seeing visitors having a ball!”
― Ana Claudia Antunes, ACross Tic

“- Като дете изпитвах същото по клоните на големите дървета. Да стоиш прилепен до един ствол, толкова древен, че и най-древната човешка памет бледнее пред него, ти внушава същото чувство за място в света.”
― Raymond E. Feist, Magician: Master

“I would travel far and wide...seeing, listening, creating. I would weave tales for an enthralled audience. A song would be heard throughout the kingdom, and I would be a part of that. You would normally think that a bard would pick up his tales from stories heard in his travels or, perhaps, from personal observation of these events. Perhaps some bards would create the stories themselves or, at least, adapt the original versions heard...

But what if the bard were really more than a bard? What if he were once a gallant knight or an old sea captain...perhaps even a forgotten prince? What if the stories he told, what if the characters brought to life in his stories, were really of his comrades and himself? Stories from long ago that he finally wished to be heard? What if those who listened to his tales, all the while assuming that they were far disconnected from their communicator, were really listening to the narrative of a wanderer intimately connected to it all? And where would such an individual go when his final days as an “official” bard were spent? Perhaps he would decide to retire in a lighthouse. For, surely, no place would be more fitting for the hero emeritus. He would gaze upon the glorious sea in recollection...guiding others with the beacon of light atop his home as he had once been shepherded. The adventurer became the storyteller...and then the Sentinel of the Sea.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney, I Thirst

“I'd rather you wanted to make love,' said Dernhil, smiling crookedly. 'That was my first thought, when you barged in here. I could easily refuse that.'
'It's a much lesser question,' said Cadvan gravely. Then he gave Dernhil a sharp look. 'Would you really refuse me?'
'Probably.' Dernhil's eyes brimmed with sudden laughter. 'Honestly, Cadvan, have you no grace? What a thing to ask!'
Cadvan's rare smile smile leapt in his face. 'It occurs to me that I might love you well enough.'
Dernhil looked briefly astonished. 'And to think that all these years I thought you hated me!' he said lightly.
'You know I don't hate you,' said Cadvan. 'I think you know I never did. Nor you me. And you, maybe more than anyone else I know, understands that there are many kinds of love.' He gestured impatiently. 'That's not what I'm asking, anyway.'
'I know.' Dernhil met his gaze darkly. 'Only you would demand such a thing, in the middle of the night, from me, of all people!'
'Yes,' said Cadvan, a soft mockery in his voice. 'From you, of all people!'
Dernhil looked down at his hands and was silent for a time, thinking. Cadvan waited patiently, watching him. When Dernhil looked up, his face was open, and a smile lurked in the back of his eyes.
'Perhaps I love you enough to scary you, Cadvan,' he said. 'And that is a great deal more than you deserve.' p.146”
― Alison Croggon, The Bone Queen

“pie visa vēl iztēloties neko
savu aizmiršanos un meitenes auksto roku
viņas krūtis kā vīlušās observatorijas
un savu piedzimšanu kā neizdevušos joku”
― Kaspars Dimiters

“dzeja ir valoda kurā visu var sarunāt”
― Kaspars Dimiters

“He shrugged. 'If we keep pulling threads, trying to see which ones make the pattern, we unravel the cloth and left with nothing but tangles. Let's have no more talk of debts.' He cocked his head and studied my ash-smeared hair and face. 'On second thought, you do owe me the tale of how you contrived my rescue. May Lugh give me the art to do it justice!”
― Esther M. Friesner, Deception's Princess

“Shakespeare's strengths and there are many include his unique ability to vastly improve pre-existing plots and turn them profoundly dark and tragic or lightly comedic and romantic at will. There is also The Bard's lyrical, complex dialogue encoded with hidden meaning that works both in context and out, his towering, unforgettable characterisations, and the variety and depth of his female characters.”
― Stewart Stafford

“In that moment, I heard a melody, strong and sure, yet as soft as the dancing waves, bringing within their folds a legend passed through bygone years to the present—once
haunting, but now free—a story that a bard might once have told.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney, Peter

“All that went, went to the zoo, the cripple bard sings of the truth.”
― Florin-Marian Hera, Ten Loud Rocks