Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

There was a lonely summer Where I took the string and unraveled the magic circle from everything It was because of you, and what you did to me

(There was an idea much beloved and written about by this country’s philosophers that magic had to do with negotiating the balance between earth and air and water; which is to say that things with legs or wings were out of balance with their earth element by walking around on feet or, worse, flying above the earth in the thin substance of air, obviously entirely unsuitable for the support of solid flesh. The momentum all this inappropriate motion set up in their liquid element unbalanced them further. Spirit, in this system, was equated with the fourth element, fire. All this was generally felt to be a load of rubbish among the people who had to work in the ordinary world for a living, unlike philosophers living in academies. But it was true that a favourite magical trick at fetes was for theatrically-minded fairies to throw bits of chaff or seed-pods or conkers in the air and turn them into things before they struck the ground, and that the trick worked better if the bits of chaff or seed-pods or conkers were wet.) Slower creatures were less susceptible to the whims of wild magic than faster creatures, and creatures that flew were the most susceptible of all. Every sparrow had a delicious memory of having once been a hawk, and while magic didn’t take much interest in caterpillars, butterflies spent so much time being magicked that it was a rare event to see ordinary butterflies without at least an extra set of wings or a few extra frills and iridescences, or bodies like tiny human beings dressed in flower petals. (Fish, which flew through that most dangerous element, water, were believed not to exist. Fishy-looking beings in pools and streams were either hallucinations or other things under some kind of spell, and interfering with, catching, or—most especially—eating fish was strictly forbidden. All swimming was considered magical. Animals seen doing it were assumed to be favourites of a local water-sprite or dangerously insane; humans never tried.)

There was never a time when she felt herself falling. It wasn’t until she crashed, heart first and head last, that she realized she had fallen at all.

There was a time in Africa the people could fly. Mauma told me this one night when I was ten years old. She said, “Handful, your granny-mauma saw it for herself. She say they flew over trees and clouds. She say they flew like blackbirds. When we came here, we left that magic behind.” She looked at my face, how it flowed with sorrow and doubt, and she said, "You don't believe me? Where you think these shoulder blades of yours come from, girl?" We weren't some special people who had lost our magic. We were slave people, and we weren't going anywhere. It was later I saw what she meant. We could fly all right, but it wasn't any magic to it.

There were fat cats and skinny cats. The long-tailed and the bobbed. The daring young leapers, and the old windowsill sleepers. Balls of waddling fluff, smooth-coated prowlers, and hairless ones that looked fragile and wise. The tiger-striped, the ring-tailed, and the ones with matching coloured socks and mittens. There were tabbies and calicos. Manx and Persians. Siamese and Bombay. Ragdolls and Birmans. Maine Coons and Russian Blues. There were Snowshoes and Somalis, Tonkinese and Turkish, and many, many more. Brown and beige and orange and grey and black and white and silver cats, each with gleaming eyes of emerald, or sapphire, or amber. A rainbow of precious stones.

There was something in the moonlight tonight. It was stroking the stonework and spires, leaning into cracks between the cobblestones, caressing the stained-glass windows. She felt her heart lift with magic.

There ya are.” Erik grinned at her as he came bounding down the steps two at a time. He stepped around his statue of a sister as if such a thing were normal. Perhaps here it was. He paused, nodding at Malina. “Morning, banshee.” He gave a small brotherly laugh and poked his thumb toward her face. “She does kind of look like a banshee with her hair flying around like that and her mouth all open. Yeah, ma froze her good. See how her eyes don’t move?” Erik leaned closer to her and grinned as he looked into her mouth. “Ha, Euann put a mint in there.

There you are! Aren't you precious?

The role of a story was, in the broadest terms, to transpose a single problem into another form. ... It was like a piece of paper bearing the indecipherable text of a magic spell.

The room was full of magical objects, animals, photographs, paintings, strange looking plants and many flying books. I only found this room a few days ago and it seems that it keeps changing every time I come.

The same bourgeois magic everywhere the mail train sets you down.

The same good folk who would burn me for a psychal now paid me to use my cursed gramarye to guard their sheep.

The sea loved the moon When she was supposed to love the shore. The moon knew And hence made his intentions known. That she should love the shore Who was destined for her. Yet his protests seemed weak. And even when he pushed her towards the shore- She always retreated back. To want, to need, to love the moon For all she's worth. Everyone said, it wasn't meant to happen. Yet, the Tsunami rose that night for their union.

The search for magic in life is not a search for truth. If anything, it's the opposite. You don't want to see behind the curtain. You don't want explanations. As profound as the truth may be, odds are it's going to break your heart. You learn how they pull a rabbit out of a hat and you'll never see it the same way again. The magic is gone forever.

The second the door closed after him Laire started jumping, a huge smile on her face and her body shaking in repressed excitement. “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go. You don’t even like the Oracle. Let me.” Before the first words were out of Laire’s mouth, Fallon started to shake her head, and as soon as the green-haired woman took a breath, Fallon used it as her opportunity to say, “No way.” “Please please please.” “Let me rephrase. No way in hell.” Laire stopped jumping, a small pout coming to her lips. How she had been able to prevent an ankle fracture while jumping on those spikes, Larissa would never know. “Why not?” “Because if they have an orgy going on, you’ll want to join. And if they don’t have an orgy going on, you’ll want to start one. I’ll take Aislynn with me.

The secret of good magic is another magic.

These hips are mighty hips. These hips are magic hips. I have known them to put a spell on a man and spin him like a top

These hapless livers were probably not always mere myths, and these legends which traced their spilt blood in the purple bloom of the violet, the scarlet stain of the anemone, or the crimson flush or the rose were no idle poetic emblem of youth and beauty fleeting as the Summer flowers.

These last few months Vida had started believing in all kinds of strange things she'd have laughed at when we lived back in Avalon. She'd tried every spell she could find in the dusty old books she brought home from thrift shops and garage sales; none of them ever worked, and it was awful watching her try.

[the sheep] sidled up beside him and bumped him lovingly with its head. Val looked at it sadly. "I am sorry, you ugly creature," he said. "I have not used my magic in a long time, and I am very out of practice.

The slam of a car door drew her attention to a new arrival. Maxville Deputy Sheriff Zach Manus emerged from his unmarked 2011 Camaro and stalked toward them. Deep sorrow and anger laced across his handsome features. His light-brown hair stood a little more on end than normal. He stopped in front of them, his frown deepening and his golden-brown eyes darkening.

The sonic screwdriver from Doctor Who might have worked, having been canonically established as being ineffective on wood, but nobody had ever figured out how to use the controls on the blasted thing.

The spell...curled around...like smoke before settling in. Sophie: "Okay, do you guys feel protected?" Archer: "Yes. Also a little violated, but that's neither here nor there.

The stories Essie most loved were ones about the Skyweaver, a goddess who spun souls into stars and wove them into the sky.

The stone itself bled the malice of ancient things that had languished in darkness for centuries – consciousnesses that did not slumber, minds that did not dream.

The storm has brought Ulla to the cold shelter of the northern islands, to the darkened caves and flat black pools where she remains to this day, waiting for the lonely, the ambitious, the clever, the frail, for all those willing to strike a bargain. She never waits for long.

The stranger was still smiling. He transformed himself into a rose bush and entwined me. My Christian education meant that ever since childhood I have had a horror of vice and it was not without a quite understandable terror that I discerned the pleasure I felt in the embrace of this vigorous bush whose branches gradually mingled with my limbs, my hair and my looks. When one of its flowers came apart in my mouth, I could feel myself grasping the sorcerer in my arms in my turn. He was transformed into a torrent, and I was a barge, into desert and I was smoke, into a car and I was a road, into a man and I was a woman. 'What we are doing is very wrong,' he said and was off.

The subconscious mind does not know what we call willpower, its magic comes from the imagination.

The strange thing about magic is how easily one can feel familiar with it. Much like a dream, its message can infill the senses of the soul and persuade the consciousness in a way that is undeniable. As intoxicating as the musk of romance and as enlightening as the whispers of hidden wisdom, magic can take you back into the very realm of your childhood ... and leave you there.

The sun was directly overhead, bright against the flower’s exterior. Warm blueish-purple silhouettes pirouetted and danced along interior walls.

The sun might not rise one day and leave the world in perpetual darkness. The moon might fall to the sea and send an endless tide that floods the earth, or I might simply slip in sheep dung and break my neck! How will Danhoul prevent any of that?

The sun set, which is everyday magic...

The sun is shining - the sun is shining. That is the Magic. The flower are growing - the roots are stirring. That is the Magic. Being alive is the Magic - being strong is the Magic. The Magic is in me - the Magic is in me. It is in me - it is in me. In every one of us.

The trail through the pines and beech trees was bright red. He was surprised the other human couldn’t see it. She was walking slowly, not far from him. He could smell the moisture on her hot skin. She hadn’t noticed his presence yet. She stopped in her tracks and he moved silently behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks. She turned and he saw her face. Oh no not her…he thought before turning and bolting back the way he came.

The town lay beneath their feet, its outskirts in ruin from the negligence of arrogant people who thought it was acceptable to let everything fall apart because they could rebuild it without lifting a finger.

The taste of victory, knowing she’ll be responsible for the predator’s demise.

The thing is heavy. --I'm talking the whole Harry Potter series put together heavy. Those are some great books. Totally inaccurate, but great.

The thinnest thing in the world is the border between good and evil... my next The Opposite Of Magic.

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

The truth is that trying to classify something as purely good or purely bad lacks empathy and complex thought. In witchcraft there are no absolutes—nothing is inherently good or bad.

The Universe has your back. Instead of trying to control the outcome, just enjoy the journey.

The truth is that all of the moments of our lives are magical because we are alive in them.

The truth, the all moving magic, the single handed spark of it all was I found art. And this saved my life.

...the universe is energy. All of it. Everything is energy that can be altered simply by willing it to be altered. It's as if we are God's waking dream, each gifted with a small piece of his consciousness; the beauty of that arrangement is that we create the dream for him. If you can understand that, if you can wrap your mind around it, then you can conjure up anything you want from out of the ether. Provided there is material enough to do it.

The universe will bring people whatever they want…Let the magic happen. It’s always there. Abundance and love are always there. Believe in the highest good. There is a higher essence to everything. The realm you’re in has a heaviness that mutes energy. You can penetrate through it, no matter how dark and heavy. Sometimes it has nothing to do with karma. Just don’t forget to keep it open. Don’t get too bogged down…Prosperity can happen at any time. I want to give you everything that you need.-Kuan Yin

The unknown is sexier that the revealed. All magic tricks are a disappointment once you learn how they’re done.

The villagers marked the time in two ways: before the swamp and after. What came before was good. And all that came after was not.

The whole Creation was waiting for Rincewind to drop in. He did so. There didn't seem to be any alternative.

The whole magic trick is in the end you never reveal everything... you reveal drop by drop... little by little - THAT's the best MOVE!

The will of this boy thief flows in golden streams. It is the thread with which I weave, the colors with which I paint, the element with which I create.