Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

We wait, starving for moments of high magic to inspire us, but life is full of common enchantment waiting for our alchemists eyes to notice.

We walked the length of Jackson Square, stopping to look at the work of a couple of artists who'd set up their sidewalk shops for the day. "Look." Eugenie stopped in front of an acrylic painting of a mustached man with curly dark hair, hooded eyes, and a big hooked nose. He looked like he'd steal the hubcaps off your grandmother's Cadillac. "It's Jean Lafitte, our most famous pirate," the artist said. "He was quite a character." She had no idea. She also had badly missed the mark on his looks. His hair wasn't that curly, he'd been clean-shaven the whole time I'd known him, his nose was straight and in perfect proportion to the rest of his features, and he didn't have hooded black eyes. Still, he might find it entertaining. "How much?" I asked.

We were born in the '70s, back when twins were rare, a bit magical: cousins of the unicorn, siblings of the elves.

What a magical place," she whispered in an awed voice. "I expect a unicorn or fairies to appear." "What would the fairies be doing?" Shermont asked. "Waltzing with the butterflies," she answered before thinking.

What are you doing?" Alain asked. "Starting a fire, of course." Mari held up the thing in her hand. "It's a fire-starter. A really simple device. Haven't you ever seen one?" Alain shook his head. "Never. That thing seems very complicated. I do not understand how it can work." "How do you start fires?" That was a Guild secret. Or was it? The elders had told him that no Mechanic could understand how it worked. What would this Mechanic say if he told her? "I use my mind to channel power to create a place where it is hot, altering the nature of the illusion there," Alain explained, "and then use my mind to put that heat on what I want to burn." "Oh," Mechanic Mari said. "Is that actually how you visualize the process?" "That is how it is done," Alain said. "That's...interesting." She grinned. "So, instead of making fire by doing something complicated or hard to understand like striking a flint, you just alter the nature of reality. That is a lot simpler.

What did she know about the Black Forest? Only what she’d been able to glean from the maps in the library and from Luc’s fairy tales: Castles hidden in glens. Trees as tall as city buildings. Wolves and stags and bears. Mad princes who drowned in lakes. None of Mada Vittora’s books described an ancient academy deep in the woods, a place where it always snowed, where girls wanted magic badly enough to die for it.

What can I tell you about the alchemy of twins? Twins are two bodies that dance to each other’s joy. Two minds that drown in each other’s despair. Two spirits that fly with each other’s love. Twins are two separate beings conjoined at the heart!

What did you do?" Kate asked. "Nothing. We're inside the wards." Simon laughed and drank the elixir. She looked around with surprise. "How can you tell? At night? In the snow?" "That tree." He indicated an ash tree standing amidst other ash trees. "It looks like a thousand other trees." "No, it looks like you." Simon took a shallow, pained breath, but smiled. "It's my marker." Both Kate and Malcolm stared at the tree. Kate cocked her hip. "It looks like me? A tree? That's flattering." "Yes. See how the curves--" Simon worked his hands in an hourglass shape. "It looks like you.

What do you do,' said Jean, 'with, ah, "ungifted" children when you have them?' 'Cherish them and raise them, you imbecile. Most of them end up working for us, in Karthain and elsewhere. What did you think we'd do, burn them on a pyre?' 'Forget I asked

What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink. Suddenly I felt the slight weight of his body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed against my ear. "How human you are," he whispered.

What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink. Suddenly I felt the slight weight go this body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed adjacent my ear. "How human you are," he whispered.

Whatever form it might take, enjoy the magic! Remember, Disneyland is all about you.

What good is magic, if you can't use it to help people?

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

What if we lean in to life even with the messes and the mysteries to find the magic in it all?

What is?', he said. 'What if?' is a question that belongs to magic.

What I say is misdirection, what you see is an illusion and what results is magic.

What it leads to is the mischief of confusing liturgy with magic -- of imagining there are only a handful of properly effective formulas for conjuring up the mystery, when in fact the mystery is always at work, independent of any formula whatsoever.

What magic is this?' the muse says to the man. 'A flower, a dream, a fairy-tale wish,' the man says to his muse. The muse smiles.

[W]hat my grandmother and my mother and I all know is that our beauty is no miracle. It is bought and paid for.

[W]hat should I have done? Gather dirt in my purse?

What's wisdom if not the will to learn the lessons, which Nature puts in one's way at every step?

What's the point of all this magic, if no one really knows how to use it? But I guess the same could be said about life. Which is another form of magic, only less showy.

What's this place called?' He told me and, on the instant, it was as though someone had switched off the wireless, and a voice that had been bawling in my ears, incessently, fatuously for days beyond number, had suddenly been cut short; an immense silence followed, empty at first, but gradually, as my outraged sense regained authority, full of a multitude of sweet and natural and long forgotten sounds: for he had spoken a name so familiar to me, a conjuror's name of such ancient power, that, at its mere sound, the phantoms of those haunted late years began to take flight.

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.

What this world doesn't have is the three-wishes, go-to-the-ball-and-meet-your-prince, happily-ever-after kind of magic. We have all the mangling and malevolent kinds. Who *invented* this system?

What would this have been, if it had more power to give?" "This may come as a surprise to you," he replied dryly, "But I am not an Ancient. Nor am I, human philosophy aside, a living construct." "Which means you don't know." "Which means, as you so succinctly put it, I do not know." - Kaylin & Tiamaris

What we could consider magic, may just be science that we don’t understand yet.

What you knew in your childhood is true; the Otherworld of magic and enchantment is real, sometimes terribly real - and certainly more real than the factual reality which our culture has built up, brick by brick, to shut out colour and light and prevent us from flying.

When change cometh, she will bring peace at her back. She will not bend to your will; you must bend to heres.

When a unicorn is slain, men have destroyed again the image of beauty that they seek.

Whenever a decision is made in the heat of the moment—when we allow ourselves to be carried on joy or sorrow or mere simplicity and quiet—whatever it is, a moment of magic is created. Not always good magic, of course. But magic, nonetheless.

Whenever anyone harbored ill will toward the beast or said he'd got what he deserved, the spell increased and the evil grew stronger and stronger in the gargoyle. It became more and more difficult for people to forgive-and love-not only the beast, but each other as well. This, too, made the evil increase.

When he reached his own room again, he found Khloe curled up on his bed, asleep. He stood over her, watching her sleep peacefully for a few moments before taking a deep breath and moving to the other side of the bed. He sat down on top of the covers next to her and watched the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. He withdrew a leather bond journal from the nightstand drawer and tried to push Hecate’s words from his mind. Khloe is yours to deal with.

When first I set eyes on The Isle of Wight Polar Bear, my world was filled, in that instant, with the magic and wonder of childhood - Suzy Davies, Author, "Snugs The Snow Bear

When he caught his breath, he regarded her with glowing, half-closed eyes. "If I'm very, very good, shei'tani, will you do that again when we're alone?

When fully united, without ego or weakness, we become the greatest invisible force this world has ever witnessed.

When I look at my bookcase and see one book after the other upon its shelves, I think to myself, There is a God.

When I was a teen, I liked to hang out around popular girls, I thought they had some magic, secrets that only they knew and I wanted to learn it... Though pretty soon I realized... popular girls were just like spam... they promised a lot, but only thing they had and could use were their well-built bodies and ability to apply make-up here and there. Mostly they were deceptive and had no senses... they had no idea about friendship, kindness and beauty as it is. Friendship for them was not something more than poor relations, sort of like in "God Father". Love for them was not something bigger than sex. Kindness for them was to have a kitty or a dog (which was already very rare case)... And beauty for them was... well, you can imagine. Concentrated selfishness

When I see you, Jolie, I see a woman who is far more than she realizes but who will someday grow into her powers. One who is much stronger than those who would trap her inside their cages or try to put her to harness. One with a bold intelligence, with whom I can laugh. One who surprises me." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear. "I see a woman who makes me feel alive again, like a man, and not like a wraith who has lived beyond his usefulness in a world that no longer needs him.

When I was a boy, Ray Bradbury picked stories from his books of short stories he thought younger readers might like and published them as R Is for Rocket and S Is for Space. Now I was doing the same sort of thing, and I asked Ray if he'd mind if I called this book M Is for Magic. (He didn't.) M is for magic. All the letters are, if you put them together properly. You can make magic with them, and dreams, and, I hope, even a few surprises...

When something flipping out to the worse, don't feel bad. But be strong and make yourself hard so that the situations stop taking chance to hurt you.

When Mikolay and Julia are not at school, they usually go exploring and adventuring. Mikolay’s and Julia’s mummies are both witches and are in charge of fixing things.

When scorching passion only leaves ashes of unfulfilled dreams, hope may entice the sprinkling magic of our imagination into livening up the footlights on a new stage of life. ("Taken for a ride")

When the artist leaves a painting on a wall with the full confidence that the mastery of his skill, soul and vision will draw others into its vortex long after he is gone, he is using the grip of seduction. When the musician’s performance, the manipulation of her instrument and the command of her talents are so raw and uninhibited that onlookers feel connected to the cosmos, bridged by the pure genius they are now experiencing, she is using the mystery of seduction. The unexplainable feeling fans get when the athlete ceases to be an athlete and rises to the level of the untouchable magician that can make anything happen, is nothing less than the power of seduction at work. The immense value of seduction is its ability to skillfully allure others into one’s world . . . .

When the Magician waves his magic wand to help you… rest assured he does it because you deserve it.

When the magic show pulls its last rabbit out of your head, it'll be time to find a new animal to work with.

When twelve who wander stand as one Through the door the dark will come. The key will be revealed in turn— Unlock the way and you shall learn...

Where science is a dignified waltz in three-quarter time, magic is an improvised saxophone solo: all gut checks and synchronicities.

When we blaze, when we fight, when we rejoice, then I am all us, for that is all we are. When I am...afraid...we do not understand, do not like these things. We are me. It is...frightening, having to be me.