Magic Quotes - Page 14

Although she was a logical, practical person, she believed that in books there existed a kind of magic. Between the aging covers on these shelves, contained in tiny, abstract black marks on sheets of paper, were voices from the past. Voices that reached into the future, into Claire's own heart and mind, to tell her what they knew, what they'd learned, what they'd seen, what they'd felt. Wasn't that magic?

Having books standing on a shelf in a room is like having completely different worlds at the ready, waiting to be explored.

So, the MacGregors."t"Yeah." Jane nodded with a long sigh. "The MacGregors."t"I don't get what the big deal is with them," Charlotte said.t"If you saw under their kilts, you would get what the big deal---" Annabelle tried to break in.

Number three: Stay away from the church. In the battle over science vs. religion, science offers credible evidence for all the serious claims it makes. The church says, 'Oh, it’s right here in this book, see? The one written by people who thought the sun was magic?' I for one would like to see some proof that there is a God. And if you say 'a baby’s smile' I’m going to kick you right in the stomach.-Stewie

[W]hen you try too hard to hold on to something, you break it. Sometimes, we need to let go so that other people can have their chance at the magic.

When you find that one book, that one that makes you tingle. It's almost like you found a little piece of magic.

I refuse to believe that we’re going to go through life without something magical happening

Life has this beautiful way of opening doors when you least expect it. How thy open is sometimes never known. But does that not only further justify the magic and the possibility to the thought, that there is more to life than that which meets thee eye.

Those secrets residing in their hearts and minds held magnificent Energy. Humans were too inept to see it as anything but evil.

If I am going to be a monster, the least I could do is be well fed!

I may be permitted, kind reader, to doubt whether you have ever been enclosed in a glass bottle, unless some vivid dream has teased you with such magical mishaps.

Saying good-bye properly afforded me a measure of peace. It was a binding of a different sort, absent of the earth's power, but still hard proof that there is magic yet in the world.

I talked to Zrakovi this afternoon,” Alex said, giving me an undecipherable look. “He’s putting me back on sentinel duty for the next few weeks while you handle a special assignment.”Special assignment had an ominous ring to it. “What kind of special assignment? And why am I hearing it from you instead of Zrakovi?” Elder Z was my boss, not Alex, however Mr. Bossy liked to think otherwise.“You’re going to be babysitting Jean Lafitte and making sure he doesn’t try to take revenge on anyone for what happened last month.” At my horrified, speechless gape, Alex gave me a grim smile and held his glass of port up in salute as my dessert congealed into a lump in my stomach. “Good luck with that, Jolie.

Sam could feel his jaw drop open, but it took him a moment to gather himself together enough to shut it. He blinked at Jazz. "Did that cat just talk, or am I losing my mind?"tKoshka laughed, a bizarre sound coming from something with whiskers and ear tufts. "So you believe in witches but not to talking cats? You have a very limited worldview, Human. You might want to work on that.

Did you ever face Death and let it stare back at you right in the Eyes? ☥

He could be distracted, still, by beauty, by the wonder of a stroke of sunlight. Perhaps at such times he made himself open to wizardry-or conversely, was as warded and safe at such moments as Ynefel at its strongest. Perhaps threats simply slid past his attention and he made himself immune.

Magic isn’t something that can be explained: it simply is. It takes while it gives. So” – the spinner steps closer, his outstretched hand demanding – “I have given you magic, and now it must be paid.

Sometimes the dim veil between sanity and insanity is perception.

Some of these images intricately make me feel that I know these places. I see them like I've lived them...a stirring that is so real. A longing a sadness a connection that pulls fully and really

Believe in your heart that you're meant to live a life full of passion, purpose, magic and miracles.

(Evil people) do not believe in forgiveness. Their transgressions are either punished or not punished. That is the only result that matters.

Maybe he's not coming,' I whispered to Damar. 'He's crazy after all. Maybe something shiny caught his attention and he forgot about me.

I think that old magic draws much of its strength from that acknowledgment: that we are a part of that world.

I had said before that all stories were magic. It had never occurred to me that all magic was stories.

She was the kind of eleganceThat would never tarnish. A mixture of lace and mesh, Like a classic heirloom that begged to be worn.She was sharp intellect and quick wit.The type of woman that spoke her mind,Even if it shook.(Or even if no one was listening.)She was beautiful.But not someone you’d see in magazines, Her hips were too wide, her hair a mess of wispy tendrils, (Rather, she was actually very ordinary.) My, was she stubborn! She’d drive you mad!(Sometimes, you’d probably call her crazy.)But mostly, her laughter was a joyful moments. Like a warm towel fresh from the dryer,Or finding a twenty-dollar bill in your winter coat.And that was the true revelation.That magic does exist, It ran through her like a wild, fiery current.

When the mind, body, and spirit work together I believe anything is possible.

I would much rather have a life filled with magic than one filled with the mundane.

Of all the magic words in existence, words of kindness create the greatest transformation spells.

Barrie wanted to fall into him, her lost to his found, her need to his want. Kissing was like the physical form of magic, all potential and the sense that anything might happen. When she was kissing Eight, she felt like she could fly.

What if I can’t be their hero? What if I’m destined to be the villain?~attributed to Harry Potter

its odd to be a writer, you hear someone's experience and you stash it away in some tiny part of your memory and you go on your way again, only to find; in a few lived through chapters of your story a piece of their puzzle became your pathway to hope and you create words from it, like your mind creates some kind of magic. 'Yeah, it's odd being a writer.

Gansey always thought that, after dark, it felt like anything could happen. At night, Henrietta felt like magic, and at night, magic felt like it might be a terrible thing.

The magic had started to degrade, and Rosemary had slowly but surely become thoroughly, gruesomely human. And there were few things worse in this world than humans.

It is an interesting thing, love ,” the Princess stated. “It can turn lambs into heroes, and heroes into lambs.

You can't lie in a magical forest! It will ruin all the magic!

Perhaps I am too tame, too domestic a magician. But how does one work up a little madness? I meet with mad people every day in the street, but I never thought before to wonder how they got mad. Perhaps I should go wandering on lonely moors and barren shores. That is always a popular place for lunatics - in novels and plays at any rate. Perhaps wild England will make me mad.

Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold...The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of a traveller who would report them. And while he is there it is dangerous for him to ask too many questions, lest the gates should be shut and the keys be lost.

M.T. Stone was the poster boy for what an assassin should look like.

Drugs have a long history of use in magic in various cultures, and usually in the context of either ecstatic communal rituals or in personal vision quests. However compared to people in simple pastoral tribal situations most people in developed countries now live in a perpetual state of mental hyperactivity with overactive imaginations anyway, so throwing drugs in on top of this usually just leads to confusion and a further loss of focus.Plus as the real Shamans say, if you really do succeed in opening a door with a drug it will thereafter open at will and most such substances give all they will ever give on the first attempt.

i want to be in love with youthe same wayi am in love with the moonwith the lightshiningout of its soul.

I did exactly as Sampson said and I conjured up a creature with rabbit ears,a wolf face, a snake body, frog feet, a pig tail, and spikes running from the top of its head to the end of its tail.“Now,” Sampson said. “This is thekind of magic that you shouldn’t do.

I wanted to pull out his toenails and poke them in his eyeballs.

Do you really think you can win?''Yeah. Hell, Ortega is only the third or fourth most disturbing thing I've tangled with today.''But even if you do win, what does it change?''Me getting kiilled now. That way, I get to be killed later tonight instead.'- Susan Rodriguez & Harry Dresden, Death Masks, Jim Butcher

It's entirely conceivable that life's splendor surrounds us all, and always in its complete fullness, accessible but veiled, beneath the surface, invisible, far away. But there it lies—not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If we call it by the right word, by the right name, then it comes. This is the essence of magic, which doesn't create but calls.

DJ, are you awake? Freaking elf. “Go home, Rand.” I am home. Where are you? I frowned and burrowed my face into the soft down pillow. Which wasn’t my pillow. Holy crap. What had happened? I sat up and took in several observations at once, none of which made sense and all of which sent my heart rate jack-rabbiting hard enough to send my blood pressure into the ozone. First, I was lying beneath a heavy bedspread woven in a rich blue-and-cream print. The bed was an elaborate confection made to look like an antique half-tester, and a brass chandelier hung overhead. I recognized the Hotel Monteleone. I recognized Jean Lafitte’s bedroom in the posh Eudora Welty Suite in the Monteleone. I didn’t have a clue as to how I got here. Second, I wore only underwear. My clothes were thrown across a chair in the corner. I had no recollection of removing them. Third, the pillow next to mine still held the clear indentation of a head, and there was water running behind the closed bathroom door. What in God’s name had I done? Rand! Where are you? So help me, if that elf was behind this, I’d splay him open like a catfish and watch his guts fall on the floor. Then I’d batter and deep-fry him. God, Dru. Stop shrieking like an elven shrew. I think you got too cold and went into a survival state.

To my mind, ‘magic’ is the hard-to-define quality of the things that stir up mystical feelings like amazement, curiosity, imagination, and above all wonder. Magic is that which renders something beautiful in a spiritual sense. It is that which makes one feel as if the world is more than it is presently understood to be, and yet at the same time the world is working itself out in a good and beautiful way. Magic underlies the relationship between us, and the greater immensities of birth and death. Thus the experience of being in the presence of something magical is an empowering, uplifting experience. Magic, understood this way, contributes meaning to life.

If only they could live in the twilight of their dreams, in the tiny moment before the harsh light of reality found them, perhaps they could be happy.

Helping someone feel they belong is a magic all its own.

There are very few things that live in both this world and the world of dreams. Most are gods, angels and demons. The Stone you hold was made by Vlad Valkire the son of an angel and a demon. By the divine blood that ran in his veins, Valkire could see the light and hear the song of creation -- if only as glimmerings and whispers. "Over time, he became aware of the light and the music and as he grew so did his understanding of it. At the age of twenty two, he began his greatest labor -- the making of the Wyrd Stones. In them he captured the light and song of creation and by them some of the powers of gods, angels and demons fell into the hands of elves and men. A sorcerer who knows its secret may -- like a god, angel, or demon -- stand with one foot in this world and another within the world of dreams. "Your Stone is a gateway into the world of dreams, Luthiel. When you sing, it opens and you are, in part, taken there. Others who hold a Wyrd Stone like yours may know when someone crosses into dream. When you sang, I could hear you quite clearly.

In this world in which we live simplicity and kindness are the only magic wands that work wonders

Books are a portable kind of time travel. We go back as well as forward when we read them. When we come back into the now, after being immersed in worlds previously unknown to us, we find ourselves, transformed. Touched by their magic, nothing we ever perceived beforehand remains quite the same.

If love is an illusion, you must be pure magic.

Whether I'm a good wife doesn't have anything to do with what he was like.

There are times when the unseen can be even more dangerous than what our eyes behold.

[M]y grandmother and I sit across from each other at the Gryphon Tea Room, on the grandest section of Bull Street.

Magic is a trick, and the trick is to believe it's real.

This time, I invited it in. I felt the darkness tame my impetuous nature, allowing me to feed slowly on the hatred and control it. The coldness flowed through my veins and to the lengths of each limb. The icy darkness pooled in my chest and chilled my heart.

That's the beauty of it. Have you seen the contraptions these magicians build to accomplish the most mundane feats? They are a bunch of fish covered in feathers trying to convince the public they can fly, I am simply a bird in their midst.

Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the Universe together into one garment for us.

A long time ago I lived in Lisbon,' she said, in softly slurred Portuguese that made the name of the city Leesh-boa. 'But before that, meus neto, my tribe was in the mountains where there are only old things, like the trees and the rocks and the streams. There are truths to be learned from the old things -' She hesitated, and her brown, shrunken claw closed over Pete's hand. 'Do you know the truth, Pedrinho?'("Before I Wake...")