Satyrs Quotes

Quotes tagged as "satyrs" Showing 1-11 of 11
“For Frito-Lay!" - Newel and Doren”
Brandon Mull, Keys to the Demon Prison

“Do not threaten the supreme gigantic overlords. We do as we please.”
Brandon Mull, Grip of the Shadow Plague

“I blush to think of her beholding my work," Verl confessed.
So do we," Newel assured him.”
Brandon Mull

Shiree McCarver
“IF you wish to be a writer then don't wait until you write the "great American novel" for they aren't written they are created. If you don't write at all you won't know how "great" that simple book can be.”
Shiree Mccarver

Roman Payne
“Be there a picnic for the devil,
an orgy for the satyr,
and a wedding for the bride.”
Roman Payne, The Basement Trains

Julie Kagawa
“No one touches her," Ash said, his voice coated with frost. "Touch her, and I'll freeze your testicles and put them in a jar. Understand?”
Julie Kagawa, The Iron King

“I stared at him.' You're scared of bunnies?' 'Blah-hah-hah! They're big bullies. Allways stealing celery from defenseless satyrs!”

Rick Riordan
“Grover blushed right down to his Adam’s apple. ‘Look, Percy, the truth is, I – I kind of have to protect you.’I stared at him. All year long, I’d gotten in fights keeping bullies away from him. I’d lost sleep worrying that he’d get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended me”
Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

Rick Riordan
“He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don’t let that fool you. You should’ve seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.”
Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

Cailee Francis
“He’d have more time for philosophical thoughts if he wasn’t being pursued by a herd of satyrs. They weren’t turned on by his rugged good looks either; they had murder on their minds.”
Cailee Francis, Shifter Mischief

“Here it was, high and clear, still far off but unmistakable, the mocking hail which plucked the strings of a long silence; and pricking his ears he caught the sounds of that sly familiar progress, the rustle in the bushes, twigs snapping, hop skip and jump in the clearing, the reeds parting for an instance and the glimpse—sideways, never face to satyr face—of a horn’s tip, a furry ear, an eyeball gleaming, a derisive flick of the tail—vanished and the reeds resumed their shape. It was Luck. High time, too. Something had turned up.”
Mary McMinnies, The Flying Fox: A Novel Set During the Twilight of British Rule in Malaya