Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

The world was all magic, and he had a special bottle of it in his right hand.

The would-be sorcerer alone has faith in the efficacy of pure knowledge; rational people know that things act of themselves or not at all.

They call us monsters because it makes it easier to hurt us. Bus monsters are people too.

They call it music, but it's just this side of magic.

They also knew that the most frightening Talent was that which required no fanfare at all, that which slipped unnoticed to lie beside you at night and whispered hello from the other side of the pillow.

They didn’t speak again but sat in disbelief and wonder as the cookies, made with butter, sugar, flour, eggs, and a dollop of exasperation, slowly cooled on their tray.

They dabbled in dark magic like finger painters in first grade art class, and then most of them were either killed by their creations or ran the other way from the nightmares they unleashed.

They have no gods. They work magic, and think they are gods themselves. But they are not. And when they die, they (...) become dust and bone, and their ghosts whine on the wind a little while till the wind blows them away. They do not have immortal souls.

They must be looking everywhere for you," said Tawny, stretching out her wings to their full span - which was very far indeed! It seemed to Luna that Tawny was saying that Maria was looking for her across the whole wide world. "Luna The Moon Pig, The Pig Who Hid

They say that to live in the Wilds, you have to be half-wild yourself. Or at least very brave. And Zane is both.

They took form in a bedroom, Khloe realized with a scowl. He noticed and gave her a sideways grin. Arrogant ass. Laugh it up, demon.

They were different colors: the right one blue, the left green. And her face in the light of the candle on the table startled me at first, just as it had in the icy night air. After seeing it on the street, I was afraid I had only imagined it: a still, luminous face with a silvery sheen. Finely hewn, with a long, straight nose and a wide mouth, it was nearly identical to another face, which I had photographed years before. Not on a person, bu on the fragment of a frieze I found in some ruins near Verona, The frieze, which depicted a band of musicians, had once been shadowed beneath a cornice high on the temple of Mercury, god of magic. Belonging to one of the musicians, it was a riveting face - like a puzzle that could not be solved - which I had never found, or expected to find, on a living woman.

Things are wonderful when we look at them with magic in our hearts.

things like how to tell the age of a tree, the dances of the moon and tides, and the names of the clouds-like cumulonimbus and nimbosttratus-that sounded lie magic spells on his tongue.

Things spoken in love always become reality.

Think like magician, present like magician and perform like magician.

This girl is magic. She's wild incantations. She's that spark that lit me back to life and I'm burning for her.

This is beautiful." Eugenie ran her fingers along a massive mahogany sideboard, on the top of which rested a red velvet sash with fine embroidery on it and, on top of the sash, a silver dagger. That little vignette was Jean Lafitte in a nutshell. Refined gentleman and renegade. Velvet and violence.

This is the beginning of a new time,” Torius said, “a great moment for us. One of us has learnt the Tongue and freed a princess. I have saved him and killed the guards. No longer will we be slaves. No longer will the guards tell us what to do. No longer will we listen. We will fight till we get what we want!” A roar exploded from the children around him. “This is a revolution,” Torius went on. “You all remember the pain that you have felt when the guards have touched you. You all know the shame we carry within us at being treated like this. No more! We will stand!

This is the back door to the lore kept in store in the whispering pages within. Come in, come embark! Something gleams in the dark, and it's spinning a spell now. Come in! Only first flip the book for the front of it looks like a much better place to begin.

This is the gateway to Hell, baby… Welcome to The Underworld.

This is the twilight shift, dear. Neither here nor there. But if you go into the dark, there'll be no turning back. Stay out of the office and you'll be happy. Trust me.

This is the Self-Esteem Looking-Glass. You have to look in the mirror and compliment yourself.

This is the simplest of spells, and foundation to all others. Magic seeks to better understand, and eventually to build on, the connection between minds and bodies. Even to calm a storm, you treat the wind and rain as if they were alive and corporeal. That is why blood is part of the spell, along with words and symbols.

This is the story of a boy named Pete Coutinho, who had a spell put on him. Some people might have called it a curse. I don't know. It depends on a lot of things, on whether you've got gipsy blood, like old Beatriz Sousa, who learned a lot about magic from the wild gitana tribe in the mountains beyond Lisbon, and whether you're satisfied with a fisherman's life in Cabrillo. Not that a fisherman's life is a bad one, far from it. By day you go out in the boats that rock smoothly across the blue Gulf waters, and at night you can listen to music and drink wine at the Shore Haven or the Castle or any of the other taverns on Front Street. What more do you want? What more is there? And what does any sensible man, or any sensible boy, want with that sorcerous sort of glamor that can make everything incredibly bright and shining, deepening colors till they hurt, while wild music swings down from stars that have turned strange and alive? Pete shouldn't have wanted that, I suppose, but he did, and probably that's why there happened to him - what did happen. And the trouble began long before the actual magic started working. ("Before I Wake...")

This is why children can see Angels, touch spirits, hear the songs of the trees, and talk to the animals. Quite simply, they acknowledge the magic.

This is why magic is dangerous. It lures you in. It makes you curious.

This is why I don't trust magic," he muttered, leaning back against the tree. "Inanimate objects like swords and scrolls should not WANT to be found. They should not want anything.

This is why magic is worse even than quantum physics. Because, while both spit in the eye of common sense, I've never yet had a Higgs bosun turn up and try to have a conversation with me.

This magical universe is so faithful in waiting for us to get out of our own way. No matter how long you have gone astray, when you take action, the universe moves to support the act. Move in the direction of your goals and watch the magic flow.

This magic does not work with anger.

This place was as dark and carried the same scent of pine trees that was common to the forest. She could hear the wind lightly swaying the branches, but there were no sounds out of the ordinary. Everything seemed the same. “What am I missing?” Ursula asked curiously, though she wondered whether Aleana had stopped just to see what she’d say or do. Aleana giggled. “So the charm really does hide it from human sight.” She gave the air a knock, and strangely there was a sound, just like she was knocking on wood.

this was a moment of magic revealing to us all, for a few moments, a hidden world of grace and wonder beyond the one of which our eyes told us, a world that no words could delineate, as insubstanttial as a cloud, as iridescent as a dragon-fly and as innocent as the heart of a rose.

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

This time Simone did not smile at all. "I cannot tell that to you, child. This is a secret I am not allowed to talk about. I only hope that you will know how to follow the true and right path. And now, farewell!" She turned around and walked away between the bookshelves, disappearing from their sight. Nirupa looked at the book she held in her hand. On its thick front cover she read: "Atlantis." Deep shudders shook her body. She turned her head and looked at Miss Bell, who also looked numb with fear. "Now that we have started the adventure, me must carry it through to the end," Ni whispered to Miss Bell, opening the book. She did not have time to see what was written inside because, once the first page was open, a whirl of warm air sucked Ni and Miss. Bell inside, In the twinkle of an eye they found themselves standing up on the main street of a magnificent bazaar.

This, then, is the beast that has never actually been: not having seen one, they prized in any case its perfect poise, its throat, the straightforward gaze it gave them back—so straightforward, so serene. Since it had never been, it was all the more unsullied. And they allowed it such latitude that, in a clearing in the wood, it raised its head as if its essence shrugged off mere existence. They brought it on, not with oats or corn, but with the chance, however slight, that it would come on its own. This gave it such strength that from its brow there sprang a horn. A single horn. Only when it met a maiden’s white with white Would it be bodied out in her, in her mirror’s full length.

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.

This world is Pure Magic, and you are no less than a miracle.

This was the kind of romantic moment any man, dead or alive, would remember forever. A thread of magic that would become stitched inside of a freeze frame of memory.

Those of strong character and training are chosen by fate. They cannot help but rise to the forefront when their nations are troubled.

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

Those who wish to learn magic ought to begin by looking around them.

Though in this genre we write about the fantastic, the stories work best when there is solid grounding in our world. Magic works best for me when it aligns with scientific principles. Worldbuilding works best when it draws from sources in our world. Characters work best when they’re grounded in solid human emotion and experience.

Though Queen Victoria in England had suggested that makeup was impolite, even vanity, Gideon saw it as yet another weapon. It was not so different from magic.

Thoughts are powerful, one thinking for something makes big changes... you try... Imagine this say "I want to fuck", then imaginate a girl. A woman which is 18 years old, blonde hair, white skin, big ass, big boobs, long legs, and likes to play with dicks... Think few times on such type of stuff and look the magic!

Threshold is where the madness ends and the magic begins.

Three. I had just made my first, second, and third kill. Before I had even obtained my mage’s robes. I bent over and vomited into the grass. There was no pride, no justice, just the appalling sense that I had lost my innocence. That I was a monster.

Three generations before I was the one meant for the necklace. I saw him when I was three years old, so clear and strong that he could slip his warm hand in mine, he could lift me in the air, yes, lift my body, but I refused him. I turned my back on him. I told him, You go back to the hell from which you came. And I used my power to fight him.

Throughout his life, Bradbury liked to recount the story of meeting a carnival magician, Mr. Electrico, in 1932. At the end of his performance Electrico reached out to the twelve-year-old Bradbury, touched the boy with his sword, and commanded, Live forever! Bradbury later said, I decided that was the greatest idea I had ever heard. I started writing every day. I never stopped.

Thus the writing of ethnography becomes a magical act, no less than the creation of a ritual, the making of a spell, or the manufacture of a sacred object: the ethnographer is by definition a magician.