"Don't start me on Elves. My perennial bugbear. Elves are basically "What If Aryans were right about there being a master race". Fucking Elves"
Oh dear, I really don't think I'm going to like this T'Pol. I've found that Vulcans can run the gamut from mellow (Saavik, Voyager's sadly underused Vorik) to gruff (Tuvok, Sarek) to kind of sassy (Spock, Valeris), all under the guise of logic and restrained emotion. They're my favourite Trek species, actually. What can I say? A large part of me has to relate to the guy standing at the back of the room with his armed folded, rolling his eyes at everyone. I don't think I've ever met one I didn't like. Until now.
I love nailing asari. So ageless and superior - then you get them, and they squeal like schoolgirls.
— Gianna Parisini Mass Effect 2. For the record, she's talking about arresting them.
An oath from an eldar means less than nothing. It is a promise of betrayal.
Player Character: Elves have strange powers.
Sten: Being easily conquered does not constitute a "power."
You know what Orzammar is? It's cramped tunnels, filled with nug-shit and body-odor. And every person there thinks he's better than you because his great-great-great grandfather made a water-clock or something?!
Aldaris: And who is this human, Tassadar?
Raynor: The name's James Raynor, pal. And I won't be talked down to by anybody - not even a Protoss.
Aldaris: Your taste in companions grows ever more inexplicable...
[Cally] herself went on Mendy's list of people to expect unbalanced things from, about the time she started skipping away down the hall singing like some manic, killer child, "I get to kill a Darhel, I get to kill a Darhel."
And the elves, bah! All they can do is sit in their forest and wait to be conquered.
— Murtagh Morzansson, Eldest
Ulia: Aaaaah... their age, their beauty, and their nobility unsettles you?
Miliana: No — their utter lack of achievement! You know, if I were eight hundred years old, I think I'd do more with my time than sitting about on my derriere singing tra-la-la-lally.
— The Council of Blades by Paul Kidd
DM: You find yourselves in Lothlórien, the home of elvendom on Earth. Here there is no wearyness [sic] or sign of decay.
Merry: Bah. It's just a bunch of people who won't share their trees with us.
Boromir: Not only does this place not have an inn, it doesn't even have houses. They all live in trees.
Aragorn: No shops or blacksmith either!
Boromir: Is this how they greet adventurers? "Welcome noble champions, feel free to sleep on our dirt, here are some pointy sticks." No shops, no sidequests, the people are snooty and we're sleeping on the ground underneath their spectacular treetop city of lights and music. These are the magical elves? These guys are jerks.
Aragorn: You know what I'm thinking?
Boromir: Only you can promote forest fires?
— DM of the Rings, "Fire Safety"
"Then perhaps ye would be kind enough to tell them something for me." Elminster rounded the bed to place himself between Lord Imesfor and the priestess. "Tell them the council would do well to recall how many friends the elves truly have among men—lest they chase them all off with their boneheadedness!"
Angharradh’s eyes widened. "I couldn't possibly—"
"Ye could and ye shall." Elminster shooed her toward the door. "And be quick about it, before I make a caryatid of ye!"
Laeral held the door. "I suggest you hurry. You know how rash and impatient we humans can be."
— The Summoning by Troy Denning
Neroon: I was taught the pike by Durhann himself.
Marcus Cole: Really? So was I.
See you in hell.
— Sheridan blowing up the Black Star, Babylon 5
Red Mage: Oh, it's good to see civilization again.
Thief: Civilization? No. This is a collection of shanties built by monkeys. Establish a stable, unified society with ten thousand years of beautiful culture, and then we'll talk.
Red Mage: Y'know, I've always been meaning to ask you something. If you elves are so great, why is your technology on par with humans even though you had a nine thousand year head start?
Thief: It's. (beat) That's how we like it.
Red Mage: And how unified can elf society be if there was that outcast clan? They were fighting a shadow war to dissolve your kingdom.
Black Mage: One of them poisoned your dad.
Red Mage: In fact, wasn't the throne nearly usurped by them had it not been for our extremely non-elfy intervention?
Thief: No more questions. The answers would only further confuse your simple minds.
No wonder you have to hit them over the head with a battleship squadron before they take you seriously.
—Vilani, Traveller: Intersteller Wars
Hey, you know what really gets under my skin? Proverbially, of course? A century of wizards looking down their damn noses at me. Energy Drain! I know people think I'm stupid. Because I'm not a wizard. Because I get bored easily. Because I have no interest in strategy or tactics or contingency planning. Energy Drain! But see, I've learned a lot over the years since I died. A lot more than I learned during my life. And now I see that planning doesn't matter. Strategy doesn't matter. Only two things matter: Force in as great a concentration as you can manage, and style. And in a pinch, style can slide. Energy Drain! In any battle, there's always a level of force against which no tactics can succeed. For example, all I need to do is keep smacking you with Energy Drains, and soon you won't be able to cast any of your fancy spells at all. Energy Drain! Because yes, I am a sorceror - and this magic is in my bones, not cribbed off of "Magic for Dummies." And I can keep casting the same friggin' spell at you until you roll over and die. You can have your finely-crafted watch -give me the sledgehammer to the face any day. ENERGY DRAIN!
Vaarsuvius: While I respect your clear mental discipline, I will not allow you to injure my allies.
Laurin: Don't tell me what I'm "allowed" to do, elf. You people up there in your lush forest while the rest of us have to fight for scraps - you can shove your false respect, because you don't know anything about me!
Vexxarr: Subcreatures, eh?
Foss: What is... er... that thing?
You call yourself some kind of goddess and you know nothing, madam, nothing. What don't die can't live. What don't live can't change. What don't change can't learn. The smallest creature that dies in the grass knows more than you. You're right. I'm older. You've lived longer than me. but I'm older'n you. And better than you. And, madam, that ain't hard.
You may as well try to catch starlight as bring the Eldar to battle.
— Imperial Navy Saying, Warhammer 40,000
The eldar were warriors, aesthetes, pirates, philosophers and killers. But most of all, they were liars.
— Commander Sarpedon of the Soul Drinkers, Warhammer 40,000