Magic Quotes - Page 36

He sat beside her. "What sort of things did you dream of?""Oh, what most young girls do, I imagine. Fey tales. True love." She gave a small, self-conscious laugh. "You.

You know how it is -- you get older, you get wiser, you start to ask yourself 'is it any use being able to summon creatures of the nether deeps when I could be watching BBC 4?

Not every winged Creature is considered a bird or a bat. Some wings are made of magic.- Raani York – 2013 -

My cooking spoon,My magic wand, Of this dish,You will be fond.

The real protagonist of the story, however, is the magic ring, because it is the movements of the ring that determine those of the characters and because it is the ring that establishes the relationships between them. Around the magic object there forms a kind of force field that is in fact the territory of the story itself. We might say that the magic object is an outward and visible sign that reveals the connection between people or between events. . . We might even say that in a narrative any object is always magic.

I believe in magick because I am proof. A soul can be crushed into powder,yet dares to rise in love.Hope is a magick of it's own-And I it's most natural object of passion and power.

If you focus on the humanity of your stories, your characters, then the horror will be stronger, scarier. Without the humanity, the horror becomes nothing more than a tawdry parlor trick. All flash and no magic, and worst of all, no heart.

She didn't know any better. Nobody had ever told her that she couldn't. Because of this, she moved through the city like some faerie creature. She walked roads no one else could see, and it made her music wild and strange and free.

Dammit Bard, you're going to set the cat on fire.

The true magic of novels dwells within us individually. Each reader will interpret every single character, scene, and metaphor in a slightly different way

Maybe magic and love, together, can achieve what magic alone cannot.

I don’t sell spells, and I don’t sell tricks. I don’t carry illusions or marked cards or weighted coins. I can not sell you an endless purse or help you win the lottery. I can’t make that girl you’ve got your eye on fall in love with you, and I wouldn’t do it even if I could. I don’t have a psychic hotline to your dead relatives, I don’t know if you’re going to be successful in your career, and I don’t know when you’re going to get married. I can’t get you into Hogwarts or any other kind of magic school, and if you even mention those stupid sparkly vampires I will do something unpleasant to you.

Lorth spoke a word and came into focus, though he had learned from experience that his features, the ghost-pale skin of a Northman with the gold-green eyes of a wolf, were almost as unnerving to a Tarthian as the shadowy form of a cloaking spell.

...for a country whose people ceased to believe in magic soon lost much of their ability to imagine and dream, and before long, they ceased to believe--or hope-- for anything.

Oooh, sneaky, I thought. Must be how normal mothers operate instead of yelling.

Do you believe in magic?Tell me if you doI believe in magicHow about you?

But Gemma, you could change the world.""That should take far more than my power," I say."True. But change needn't happen all at once. It can be small gestures.""Moments. Do you understand?" He's looking at me differently now, though I cannot say how. I only know I need to look away...We pass by the pools, where the mud larks sift. And for only a few seconds, I let the magic loose again."Oi! By all the saints!" a boy cries from the river."Gone off the dock?" an old woman calls. The mud larks break into cackles."'S not a rock!" he shouts. He races out of the fog, cradling something in his palm. Curiosity gets the better of the others. They crowd about trying to see. In his palm is a smattering of rubies. "We're rich mates! It's a hot bath and a full belly for every one of us!"Kartik eyes me suspiciously. "That was a strange stroke of good fortune.""Yes it was.""I don't suppose that was your doing.""I'm not sure I don't know what you mean," I say.And that is how change happens. One gesture. One person. One moment at a time.

This time he had no choice but to look into her eyes. He did not look away. It was the bright fierce gaze that she remembered so vividly from their first meeting. He’d reminded her of an eagle, the Castellan of Amyth

Do you think magic exists if it can be explained?

She once told him about the mysterious trampled-down places found in fields, which the peasants superstitiously called werewolves' nests. Coming across one of these sites, she fell to her knees and buried her face in the flattened yellow grasses, hoping to inhale the odor of a werewolf, a csordásfarkas. As if his scent was a charm. She smelled nothing but hay burned by the afternoon sun.

Magic and miracle they are nothing but manipulation of sight and heart.

Do you think I am a foo, Masha? All this time, and you speak to me as though I were a flighty pinprick of a girl. I am a magician! Did you ever think, even once, that I loved lipstick and rouge for more than their color alone? I am a student of their lore, and it is arcane and hermetic beyond the dreams of alchemists. Did you ever wonder why I gave you so many pots, so many creams, so much perfume?...Cosmetics are an extension of the will. Why do you think all men paint themselves when they go to fight? When I paint my eyes to match my soup, it is not because I have nothing better to do than worry over trifles. It says, I belong here, and you will not deny me. When I streak my lips red as foxgloves, I say, Come here, male. I am your mate, and you will not deny me. When I pinch my cheeks and dust them with mother-of-pearl, I say, Death, keep off, I am your enemy and you will not deny me. I say these things, and the world listens, Masha. Because my magic is as strong as an arm. I am never denied.

Magic is something that surrounds you all the time! Always be happy no matter what happens!

It’s not that any sufficiently advanced technology is magic, it’s that any technology taking place beyond the threshold of our senses is.

magic swirls about us like an invisible fog of energy that can be tapped by those gifted enough, using a variety of techniques that center on layered spelling, mumbled incantations, and a burst of concentrated thought channeled through the index fingers. The technical name for this energy is "variable electro-gravitational mutable subatomic force," which doesn't mean anything at all--confused scientists just gave it an important-sounding name so as not to lose face. The usual term is "wizidrical energy," or simply "the crackle.

She heard him mutter, 'Can you take away this grief?''I'm sorry,' she replied. 'Everyone asks me. And I would not do so even if I knew how. It belongs to you. Only time and tears take away grief; that is what they are for.

His was the gaze of a high-end predator, throwing it's prey a seductive look, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

He was a prince. There was no hope in saying yes to the boy with the garnet eyes who left me reckless and confused at every turn. There was no future with him. None. Darren had duty. To the Crown. Gods only knew Priscilla and Blayne had spent enough time reminding me of that.

I am not a fan of the magical quick fix in any fiction, including fantasy, scifi and comic books. Unless Dr. Who is involved, and then only because we get to use the phrase 'Timey-wimey wibbliness' which, I'm sure you'll agree, there are not enough occasions to drop into ordinary adult conversation.

Placing his mouth next to her ear, he breathed. "I want to be alone with my wife, Lady O'Brien." He felt the goose bumps rise on her skin and the shiver his breath caused.She let her head fall back and the lust-filled look in her eyes made him weak in the knees. "And I with my husband, Lord O'Brien.

Science, you don't know, looks like magic.

Leave the comfort of your dark cocoon... Allow your imagination to take flight. Embrace those marvelous magical wings and soar!

I was thinking that being a demon and a ghost must be very difficult, even for Charles; if he ever forgot, or let his disguise drop for a minute, he would be recognized at once and driven away; he must be extremely careful to use the same voice every time, and present the same face and the same manner without a slip; he must be constantly on guard against betraying himself. I wondered if he would turn back to his true self when he was dead.

I know." He leaned back, looking into her eyes. "But I'm not going anywhere, Jenny. I'll fight to stay with you.

Shapeshifting requires the ability to transcend your attachments, in particular your ego attachments to identity and who you are. If you can get over your attachment to labeling yourself and your cherishing of your identity, you can be virtually anybody. You can slip in and out of different shells, even different animal forms or deity forms.

There are no monsters in the dark.

Sometimes, the smallest moments in your life have the greatest impact. They soar straight into a place deep inside you, and resonate with the very core of your heart, sinking deep into your memory, to remind you later, that life and love can bring you magic you didn’t know existed.

First rate magician perform first rate magic effects, second rate magician performs third rate magic effects.

No, the magic doesn't wear off at midnight. It's much more powerful than that. It comes from you. You wanted something, and so it came to be.

That's the tragedy of fairy tales. The whole world puts them on a pedestal. People want their lives to be magical, but what people don't understand is that happiness is sacrificed. There is so much more to the story than what is written. The Cinderella you think she's so unfortunate with her mean sisters and stepmom. You think she deserves a happy ending with a prince, but the twenty-page journey is all you see. You learn little about who she is. What if Cinderella's just a good actress who has everyone fooled, when really, she sucks. She more than sucks.

If the bird was made, it chose to be made. It's here because it chooses to be with you.

I’m not like you. I’ve never cared about keeping relationships or sparing people’s feelings. All I’ve ever cared about is power: how to get it, and how to keep it. I told you as much when we met.

Charlotte." Kate attempted to distract the child from her endless questions and held up the glass tube. "This is wulfsyl. I can't be sure it's correct."The girl looked at Kate with excitement, then asked hopefully, "Will it stop me from eating someone?"Kate looked uncomfortable. "We believe that if you take it now, you will n ever have to eat someone.""But what if I do?""Eat Malcolm," Simon suggested.

Two things never mix: one is enchantments and the other is meddling with them.

Sandry: "There has to be something we can do." Lark: "We're mages. We do what we can, but some problems are too big to fix." Sandry: "Then I wish I weren't a mage. What good is magic, if you can't use it to help people.

At the end of the day…we are anchoring into the peaceful lagoon, smiling at the majestic sun and its flirting rays, slowly slipping into the glittering ballroom of immense night skies, sipping on the platinum moon liquor under the blues of rippling waves kissing my golden foot hanging over the board of gently rocking boat, and diving into the bed of galaxies whispering magical stories of their eternal lives connecting souls…till the dawn…

For a moment or two before the spell took effect, he was aware of all the sounds around him: rain splashing on metal and leather, and running down canvas; horses shuffling and snorting; Englishmen singing and Scotsmen playing bagpipes; two Welsh soldiers arguing over the proper interpretation of a Bible passage; the Scottish captain, John Kincaid, entertaining the American savages and teaching them to drink tea (presumably with the idea that once a man had learnt to drink tea, the other habits and qualities that make up a Briton would naturally follow).Then silence. Men and horses began to disappear, few by few at first, and then more quickly – hundreds, thousands of them vanishing from sight. Great gaps appeared among the close-packed soldiers. A little further to the east an entire regiment was gone, leaving a hole the size of Hanover-square. Where, moments before, all had been life, conversation and activity, there was now nothing but the rain and the twilight and the waving stalks of rye. Strange wiped his mouth because he felt sick.

Be as a seed, a seed for change. Allow my gift to grow and rearrange. Multiple blessings for many. For those with none, let there be plenty. p64

There is darkness in light, there is pain in joy, and there are thorns on the rose.

That's our cue to depart." "They know something " I pointed out. "I know something too. I know we're going to attract a lot of unwanted attention if they keep screaming. And then we have to make up some ridiculous explanation about how we heard screaming through the vents in our rooms and we followed the sound back to the basement and we found these girls lying on the ground and pretending to be tied up by invisible rope because they're practicing for the regional mime championships." I blinked at her. "Is that explanation more or less believable than we woke up because two girls who are actually evil magicians tripped a magical alarm wired to a door in the basement we aren't supposed to know about " Scout paused for a minute then nodded. "Point made.

Religion, mysticism and magic all spring from the same basic 'feeling' about the universe: a sudden feeling of meaning, which human beings sometimes 'pick up' accidentally, as your radio might pick up some unknown station. Poets feel that we are cut off from meaning by a thick, lead wall, and that sometimes for no reason we can understand the wall seems to vanish and we are suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of the infinite interestingness of things.

Do you believe in magic?" she asked. "I believe in you," he said. "And you're the closest thing to magic that I've found.

Light and Darkness. One cannot exist without the other. There is no true Master, without the power of balance. ☥

Like seduction, the Priestess took poisoning to an art form.

The only thing more unpredictable than magic is language.

...there’s no magic in places. Only people, and precious little of that; less and less the older you get.

I mean real magic of course-- because in a few pages, you'll discover that this is a magical pencil box hat, which is pretty lucky really, because you don't find too many of those nowadays.

I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!

[Poetry] was a form of incantation, a means of welding the world inside his head to the one that surrounded him, words the fiery chain that bound it all together.

What was a book? Not just ink and fiber and stitchery: a series of processes. To a wizard, it was not a static object--but a human thought caught and bound, made concrete through sacred technology. Magic, then, and a deep form of it.