Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

If you feel afraid of magic, then you've been enchanted.

If you haven’t seen, touched, or felt him, how do you know he is real?

If you have the understanding to first notice the signs, continue with the courage to follow them.

If you keep doing it everyday as regularly as soldiers go through drill, we shall see what will happend and find out if the experiment succeeds. You learn things by saying them over and over and thinking about them until they stay in your mind for ever, and I think it will be the same with Magic. If you keep calling it to come to you and help you, it will get to be part of you and it will stay and do things.

If you look hard and long, you can find us. If you listen hard and long, you can hear any of us, call any of us that you wish.

If you never tell anyone the truth about yourself, eventually you start to forget.

If you're an artist, always keep at it, there will be someone out there who sees the universe and soul in what you've created. Maybe they can't afford it, but it calls them like the siren in a sea, and they've saved for months and scraped, thinking all the time about how one piece you made has moved them. You can change a person's moment with your work, don't forget that. If you're an author, someone out there has read your work. They've laughed with your characters. They've cried with them. They've escaped into your fantasy or memories, and they've been changed by you. Nothing they do afterward will be the same. You will forever make them different and who they will become. Please don't forget that. If you're a singer or musician, you inspire others. People sing when they feel great emotion. If you're one of those who bursts into song at a moment's notice, imagine what that can do to brighten someone else's day. People are listening. They see you, who you really are. They are feeling the magic of those moments with you. You never know who's life you can change. You never know who is listening. Never forget that. It doesn't matter what kind of magic you create, don't ever stop. There is beauty, pain, and so many other things that depend on you to continue. Never stop. Let the world see your magic. Perform your craft with all of the fibers of your being. Shine with your light. Edge with your darkness. Do what you must, but never stop. Your creations are a gift to the world, so give with all your might. You never know who might need it.

If you’re waiting for a path to emerge magically before you actively start building your dream, you’re going to be waiting for an awfully long time.

If your thoughts and actions are in sync.... Magic happens... success happens...!

If you say that the China Cat might have lost its ear-tips in battle you are the kind of person who always makes difficulties, and you may be quite sure that the kind of splendid magics that happened to Tavy will never happen to you.

If you still believe in magic, you're subject to enchantment.

If you take any activity, any art, any discipline, any skill, take it and push it as far as it will go, push it beyond where it has ever been before, push it to the wildest edge of edges, then you force it into the realm of magic.

If you tell me I am just my flesh and blood than I will make magic out of it

If you use magic outside the school, we are going to get into more trouble than ever. I’m still not allowed to eat sweets after the last trouble we got into. They will lock us up and there will be no sweets and no adventuring ever again.

If you understand what makes him tick-what is magic for him- then you can understand anyone

If you want more Magic, use your own imagination

If you want something you have never had, you must do something you have never done.

If you want to see and feel magic first hand, read a book to your kid before bedtime. —Richard Due

If you want to see magic, love someone and see the magical transformation.

I got into magic because I got into alchemy. Which I got into because I was into chemistry, which I was learning about because I wanted to get better with botany, which I had taken up studying in an effort to grow some killer weed

I grabbed a shard of glass and spun around, brandishing it in front of me. It was a pretty, stippled blue piece, nice and sharp. “Hold on, tiger. I give up.” A bear of a man stood in front of me, hands raised in mock surrender— well, except for the shotgun in his right hand. He towered well over six feet and was shaped like a linebacker, one who’d gone a little too long between haircuts. Dark curls hugged the collar of a basic black T-shirt that almost camouflaged a black shoulder holster holding some type of nasty-looking black handgun. It all matched his black jeans and boots. He looked like the poster child for an upscale GQ mercenary. The only shred of color on him was his eyes, and they were dark brown. Mr. Monochromatic. He laid the shotgun on the table near the door and stepped back, hands up, watching me from beneath hooded lids. A lesser woman would have noticed the thick muscles moving under his tanned skin when he raised his arms, or the T-shirt that fit just snugly enough to send a girl’s thoughts to the Promised Land. Good thing I don’t notice stuff like that. “If you want to search me for more weapons, I’m game.” My eyes shot back to his, and I felt my cheeks flush, hot and bothered on the way to angry. Leave it to a guy to open his mouth and ruin a perfectly good moment.

I grabbed back at him just as incautiously with my hand and my magic both, even as he pressed magic on me from his side as well. His breath huffed out sharply, and our workings caught on one another, magic gushing into them.

I had to admit, sometimes I sensed the strangeness of the world tugging at my sleeve, like a mischievous toddler, and I wanted to follow it.

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

I had done magic. Sometimes, when people in stories encounter the paranormal, they react with horror as the fabric of reality shreds and they are faced with the dawning recognition that everything they once believed was a lie. As I stared down at my phone, I had that exact feeling, except the opposite: not horror but a giddy, mounting joy. This was what all those books had promised. I knew it, I thought. I knew the world was more interesting than it was pretending to be.

I had stood and stared at the webbing of steel then wished for a hole to climb through. The wires had just unraveled without setting off the klaxon. I remembered thinking with a horrible kind of panic that I had somehow done withcraft, and was convinced I was the blackest kind of evil. Then I realized how ridiculous I was being, and figured it was a coincidental gift from the universe, or something.

I have a little theory that I'd like to air here, if I may. What is it that you think makes you magicians?" More silence. Fogg was well into rhetorical-question territory now anyway. He spoke more softly. "Is it because you are intelligent? Is it because you are brave and good? Is is because you're special? Maybe. Who knows. But I'll tell you something: I think you're magicians because you're unhappy. A magician is strong because he feels pain. He feels the difference between what the world is and what he would make of it. Or what did you think that stuff in your chest was? A magician is strong because he hurts more than others. His wound is his strength. Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But you, my friends, you found another way: a way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. You have learned to break the world that has tried to break you.

I have always been obsessed with fragrances. The burgundy tenderness of fragrances gives me a high. The Intoxication of fragrances casts a magic spell on me.

I have been, I think, altogether disparaging about the ‘escapist’ elements of the genre, emphasizing its powers to address social, moral and even philosophical issues at the expense of celebrating its dreamier virtues. I took this position out of a genuine desire to defend a fictional form I love from accusations of triviality and triteness, but my zeal led me astray. Yes, fantastic fiction can be intricately woven into the texture of our daily lives, addressing important issues in fabulist form. But it also serves to release us for a time from the definitions that confine our daily selves; to unplug us from a world that wounds and disappoints us, allowing us to venture into places of magic and transformation.

I have dreamed of that song, of the strange words to that simple rhyme-song, and on several occasions I have understood what she was saying, in my dreams. In those dreams I spoke that language too, the first language, and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. In my dream, it was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick og everything. In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly; once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, 'Be whole.' and they would become whole, not be broken people , not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping.

I have become well versed in magic.

I have grown to realize that there are very few impossibilities in our world.

I have no cause to love Mr. Norrell- far from it. But I know this about him: he is a magician first and everything else second- and Jonathan is the same. Books and magic are all either of them really care about.

I haven't believed in magic because I don't believe in anything that I haven't seen with my own eyes. Therefore, I must go to Paelsia as soon as I can and learn the truth for myself

I have the idea that we grandmothers are meant to play the part of protective witches; we must watch over younger women, children, community, and also, why not?, this mistreated planet, the victim of such unrelenting desecration. I would like to fly on a broomstick and dance in the moonlight with other pagan witches in the forest, invoking earth forces and howling demons; I want to become a wise old crone, to learn ancient spells and healers' secrets. It is no small thing, this design of mine. Witches, like saints, are solitary stars that shine with a light of their own; they depend on nothing and no one, which is why they have no fear and can plunge blindly into the abyss with the assurance that instead of crashing to earth, they will fly back out. They can change into birds and see the world from above, or worms to see it from within, they can inhabit other dimensions and travel to other galaxies, they are navigators on an infinite ocean of consciousness and cognition.

I hear rustling in your dark magic; the old seas of midnight.

Imagine, they said, living an existence where the words out of your mouth changed the very fabric of the world around you.

I just read few books, and this books made a magic in my life.

I just think when extraordinary people are discovered, extraordinary exceptions should be made. " ~ Sarajane From Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy)

I knew all about reading a lot. About how it could take you to a world what was better than the real one. A world where there were adventures and mysteries and magic. Except, of course, books ended eventually, and then you had to go back to being yourself.

I know Caraval can be magical and romantic and wonderful, but the spells it casts aren’t easily shaken off, and half the time I don’t even think people realise they have been bewitched.

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

I know I make you uneasy. I don’t need to be psychic to notice that,” Madame Luna says. “Being around magic is never comfortable for those who don’t dabble in it.” “And rightfully so,” Gwen says as she drops the cigarette into an empty bottle. “It’s unnatural. No two ways about it.

I know, ” she said, flatly. “Antimei warned me that you would ‘transform’ me. I was hoping it would be into a frog, or a racquiel, or perhaps a bear -- I’ve always wanted to be a bear! Not a ‘proper young lady’!” she said, bitterly.

I know this will be hard, Arram. Do not be heroic. I have often done this on my own with Daleric's people. Sometimes I work here with two mastery students. I--" "Two mastery students!" Arram cried, as close to hysterics as he had ever been in his life. "Then why not at least bring another instead of using only me?" Ramasu raised his eyebrows until Arram caught his breath. Then he said, his voice kind and firm, "Because I knew you would be enough.

Ik stak één straat eerder door naar 4th Avenue, omdat ik niet langs de kerk wilde lopen; er zat soms een stenen waterspuwer op die me de stuipen op het lijf joeg. Het was niet die waterspuwer zelf die ik eng vond, maar het was dat "soms" waar ik de zenuwen van kreeg. Waterspuwers zijn beeldhouwwerkjes, ze horen deel uit te maken van een gebouw. Als er een zit, hoort die daar altijd te zitten en niet af en toe.

I liked him, but since his particular field of interest was Remote Suggestion--the skill of projecting thoughts into people's heads from a distance--I didn't know whether I actually liked him or he was just suggesting I like him, which was both creepy and unethical. In fact, the whole Remote Suggestion or "seeding" idea had been banned once it was discovered to be the key ingredient in promoting talent less boy bands, which had until then been something of a mystery.

I live in a world without magic or miracles. A place where there are no clairvoyants of shapeshifters, no angels or superhuman boys to save you. A place where people die and music disintegrates and things suck. I am pressed so hard against the earth by the weight of reality that some days I wonder how I am still able to lift my feet and walk.

I like to believe magic is all around us, finding its way into everyday life one miracle at a time.

I'll make my own magic'" - A.D.Y.Howle