Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

A little manic was okay. A little manic paid the bills and got him up in the morning, made him magic when he needed it most.

All his senses screamed in warning, the very air reeking of forbidden magic, but duty call him forward.

All her senses felt sharper, like she'd been living the past nine months on a flat page and someone had suddenly folded her into shape.

All life is sorcery. In its very essence, the soul is magical, and each process of chemistry, of obeisance and cooperation, of surrender and of struggle—at every scale conceivable—is a consort of sorcery.

All magic comes with a price. A price that is never revealed until after the damage has been done.

All living things have the ability to flourish when they are tended with gentle hands.

All of life is slightly dependent on magic. So is death.

All of science had seemed like magic once, before years of painstaking study had revealed the secret rules that governed atoms, motion, and the void between.

All of sudden I cared what someone thought of me. Because we are friends. And making you miserable and angry makes me miserable and angry. I don’t want to be the person to make you mad or cry, Ryiah. I want to make you laugh. I want you to make me laugh, because gods know you are the only one who can. So, yes, I am sorry, I am sorry because even if I was right, I was also wrong. And I’d rather lose a silly battle than your friendship.

All proper libraries include a trace of everlasting magic.

All that we know, soon shall we abandon. As time will lend itself. Eyes know only what they see. But brave hearts beat on with belief.

All that Mankind has done, thought, gained or been is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of Books. They are the chosen possession of men.

All the same, there were some things they needed to learn. Do not drink milk after a thunderstorm, for it will certainly be sour. Always leave out seed for the birds when the first snow falls. Wash your hair with rosemary. Drink lavender tea when you cannot sleep. Know that the only remedy for love is to love more.

All those old myths and legends and fairytales didn't just appear out of nowhere for no good reason, you know. They came about because there really is such a thing as magic or that it once flourished in the world. Or at least there is something extraordinary that people commonly refer to, or dismiss, as magic.

All was still and quiet. It seemed as if a magician had placed an enchantment upon the earth and that everything in the world was bound in an eternal sleep and would remain frozen and unchanging forevermore underneath the watchful gaze of the twinkling stars.

Almost all men respect the Storyteller... You can mãe time disappear. You can bring us to places we have never dreamed of. You can make us feel sorrow and joy and peace. You have great magic.

A long time ago I lived in Lisbon,' she said, in softly slurred Portuguese that made the name of the city Leesh-boa. 'But before that, meus neto, my tribe was in the mountains where there are only old things, like the trees and the rocks and the streams. There are truths to be learned from the old things -' She hesitated, and her brown, shrunken claw closed over Pete's hand. 'Do you know the truth, Pedrinho?' ("Before I Wake...")

Alphabet soup is my magic eight ball. Served hot or cold, words are delicious.

Although she was a logical, practical person, she believed that in books there existed a kind of magic. Between the aging covers on these shelves, contained in tiny, abstract black marks on sheets of paper, were voices from the past. Voices that reached into the future, into Claire's own heart and mind, to tell her what they knew, what they'd learned, what they'd seen, what they'd felt. Wasn't that magic?

Always give the rabble something to love and something to hate.

Always life would bring with it joy and sorrow combined. To allow herself to love and to love well, she opened her heart to loss, but to live without love would truly be no life at all. Alainn was well aware with any great love there would be great loss. It was both the cost and the reward of loving.

A magician must always value his magic effects more than himself, because after few years audience may not remember his name but they will remember his magic effect.

A magical thought, inspired by the books he had read. But magic . . . surely there was a little magic in the world. The people who denied the existence of magic, they were the ones that it went badly for.

A magician with decreasing practice sessions will give defective performances.

A major determining factor by which a superior human can be isolated from his average counterparts is his very isolation—the degree to which he naturally removes himself from mass-media input and stimuli. You cannot be an elitist, a Magician, and be plugged into the system.

A magical moment reminds us of how magical life can be, but it doesn’t mean its job is to entertain us, or inebriate us, or exalt us, or make us feel special all of the time. That’s putting the burden onto something outside of ourselves.

A magician only shows you magic. The one you love makes you feel it.

A magician reveals himself not only by the magic he presents but also by the respect and entertainment he gives to his audience.

A man from the wood. A stranger from afar. He will break the curse by a hundred kisses...

A man’s perspective is limited by the brevity of his existence. Even living deliberately, how far up can we reach? Standing on our miniscule patch of time, how far into the future can we see? How much of the past can one truly understand? Yet, only a recreant spends their precious drops of sand before dropping back into the abyss lounging in indulgence, not striving for understanding, knowledge, answers that those of us scourged/consecrated with consciousness should seek with unconquerable passion.

A man’s perspective is limited by the brevity of his existence. Even living deliberately, how far up can we reach? Standing on our miniscule patch of time, how far into the future can we see? How much of the past can one truly understand? Yet, only a recreant spends their precious drops of sand before dropping back into the abyss lounging in indulgence, not striving for understanding, knowledge, answers that those of us scourged/consecrated with consciousness should seek with unconquerable passion. - Far Forest Scrolls Na Cearcaill

A man walked across the moors from Razorback to Lancre town without seeing a single marshlight, head-less dog, strolling tree, ghostly coach or comet, and had to be taken in by a tavern and given a drink to unsteady his nerves.

A man without equals is a dangerous man indeed. He must exercise the most difficult of attributes, restraint.

An amateur magician who keep practising eventually becomes better than a professional magician who stop practising.

Am I the same cold, ragged damp Sara? And to think I used to pretend and pretend and wish there were fairies! The one thing I always wanted was to see a fairy story come true. I am living in a fairy story. I feel as if I might be a fairy myself, and able to turn things into anything else.

An amateur magician with affection is more delightful to watch than an expert magician with arrogance.

An Asetian never tries to talk louder than the crowd surrounding him. An Asetian becomes that crowd.

An alibi is one alliterative consonant short of being a magic carpet

And as if by magic - and it may have been magic, for I believe America is the land of magic, and that we, we now past Americans, were once the magical people of it, waiting now to stand to some unguessable generation of the future as the nameless pre-Mycenaean tribes did to the Greeks, ready, at a word, each of us now, to flit piping through groves ungrown, our women ready to haunt as laminoe the rose-red ruins of Chicago and Indianapolis when they are little more than earthen mounds, when the heads of the trees are higher than the hundred-and-twenty-fifth floor - it seemed to me that I found myself in bed again, the old house swaying in silence as though it were moored to the universe by only the thread of smoke from the stove.

And at 3am you sit near the window and wonder if there is magic... because all you need are some fairies to take your pain away and help you sleep... you take a book to read... you take a pen and a paper to write...you cling on some music that might just make you fall asleep... yet nothing helps... another sleepless night and all you want is the dawn to break soon....

And all the while Stephen started at me as if I were something magical. Not the ugly way other people sometimes stare at me, like he was meeting someone in a foreign country who spoke his language when no one else could. That's how it's been between us ever since. We understand each other, even when we astound each other.

And if you say 'I love you,' and you mean it, then love makes up for a whole lifetime of mistakes. That's some kind of magic.

And I see. I hear. But not with eyes and ears. I'm not outside my world anymore, and I'm not really inside it either. The thing is, there's no difference anymore between me and the universe. The boundary is gone. I am it and it is me. I am a stone, a cactus thorn. I am rain.

And if today was the best day ever on this earth, imagine how simply magical tomorrow is going to be

And I shall watch the ferry boats, and they'll get high, On a bluer ocean against tomorrow's sky, And I will never grow so old again, And I will walk and talk, in gardens all wet with rain. - Sweet Thing

And it was true, there were rocks and there was smog, but there was also stars. The city was like life itself: good and bad, pretty and ugly, kindness and cruelty all in one. But most important, it simply was. And that felt like a kind of magic too.

And I will love you; for such as I am, I do not give my love lightly, but once given it is sure. Only remember this, if ever you make an enemy of me, your life shall be as dust or sand in the wind. For what a demon loves and loses he will destroy, and my power is the mightiest you are ever likely to know.

And now about the cauldron sing Like elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in.

And sometimes I believe your relentless analysis of June leaves something out, which is your feeling for her beyond knowledge, or in spite of knowledge. I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon. What will you do after you have revealed all there is to know about June? Truth. What ferocity in your quest of it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world.

And so my life has become tiny and mean and incomplete and I must begin it again without comfort and without magic.