Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

To me, you are magic.

Tomorrow,” she murmured. “We face whatever comes next.

To my mind, ‘magic’ is the hard-to-define quality of the things that stir up mystical feelings like amazement, curiosity, imagination, and above all wonder. Magic is that which renders something beautiful in a spiritual sense. It is that which makes one feel as if the world is more than it is presently understood to be, and yet at the same time the world is working itself out in a good and beautiful way. Magic underlies the relationship between us, and the greater immensities of birth and death. Thus the experience of being in the presence of something magical is an empowering, uplifting experience. Magic, understood this way, contributes meaning to life.

Tonight I had wrought magic powerful enough to have drawn the attention of a goddess. In that moment, though, I was certain of one thing: Of all the magic I possessed, none of it could begin to compare to the magic he and I created together.

Too many cold, hungry nights had taught her a special kind of practicality, but in that moment, she believed in his magic.

Too many people confuse real magic with magical thinking. Real magic isn't a trick and it transforms our lives. Magical thinking is denial. Real magic is what happens when we break old belief patterns and have the courage to employ the native laws of the Universe

To prove the (rather scurrile) point, the writer acts both roles—that of the giving mother and the recipient child—on his own person. He gives to himself, out of himself, beautiful words and ideas, thus establishing an autarchy. That "magic gesture," acted on oneself, showing how the neurotic child in the writer allegedly wanted to be treated—kindly and lovingly—presents in the adult an unconscious tendentious alibi and is specific for the artist. Whereas the typical neurotic needs two people (himself and an object) for unconscious re-enactment of an infantile fantasy, the writer combines both roles into one.

To resist and subdue Nature is to make for one's self a personal and imperishable life: it is to break free from the vicissitudes of Life and Death.

Touch magic. Pass it on.

To understand how to create change, you must understand the sequence of events it entails. The cycle is as follows: Knowing – Witchcraft – Magic.

Traveling together into what the poet Adrienne Rich has called ‘the cratered night of female memory,’ they undertook a shared process of self-discovery, working together to probe the possibility of woman’s creative power. Through their exploration of hermetic and magical paths, they developed a common pictorial language, derived from the realms of domestic life, the fairy tale and the dream.

Trataré de descubrir qué significa para mi la magia pues creo que hay magia en todo lo que nos rodea.

Trust in the fictive process, in the occult interweaving of text and event must be unwavering and absolute. This is the magic place, the mad place at the spark gap between word and world.

Trust was something the Kumari couldn't afford. Not with friends, not with her siblings, not even her children. There were only two things a Kumari should trust; the magic that ran through her veins and the love of her bonded mates.

Truth is not a right to be claimed, but a gift for those who are able to conquer it. ☥

Trying to hang on to what's gone just causes pain. It's better to focus on what we have.

Tuoni takes her by the shoulders and turns her to face him. “Remember this Anya. Dreams have power; they show old truths you are too blind to see on waking. They make you remember memories that are lost in the blood flowing through your veins. Remember her magic. Remember what she did when you wake,” he says before he pushes her off the cliff.

Tu crois encore secrètement que la magie existe dans ce monde ? Erreur, le monde n'est qu'un amas de molécules sans âmes qui se cognent les unes aux autres au hasard.

Tut! Magic, indeed! As if there weren't marvels enough without magic. Pictures traveling by telephone, and men bouncing up and down on the moon? Trees and floors and children growing? There are your real marvels.

Turning her attention back to her Aunt she sighed softly.  “I’d really like my security deposit back on this place, so if you do end up having to kill him… well…” Nabha laughed softly, patting her niece on the arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it outside.” “Good.”  Devon sighed with relief. That was one less thing to worry about.  “As long as we’re on the same page.

Two things never mix: one is enchantments and the other is meddling with them.

Ultimately, the purpose of magic is to free our potential, not bind us to ideas.

Unbelievable,” Gavin said. “There’s a whole legion of magical beings living on Earth and only Aquarians know about them.” “We come in peace,” Ilauria said, surprised at her attempt at levity. A wide grin replaced his serious expression. “Lucky for us.

Under his feet he felt the hillroots going down and down into the dark, and over his head he saw the dry, far fires of the stars. Between, all things were his to order, to command. He stood at the center of the world.

Under the influence not I know of he hardest cider but of his own inner joy at life for a moment as it should be, as it was meant to be in his nature, Phineas recaptured that magic gift for existing primarily in space, one foot conceding briefly to gravity its rights before spinning him off again into the air. It was his wildest demonstration of himself, of himself in the kind of world he loved; it was his choreography of peace.

Unicorns aren't magical and beautiful. They're just predatory horses that have horns and love to eat virgins.

Upon first glance I felt a sense of familiarity with you. Like we had been down this road a thousand times before, why I felt this with a complete stranger I am yet to know but I trust further down the road our chance meeting will make perfect sense.

Unlucky is a kind of magic.

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets: Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!

Vane’s lips tightened to suppress a smile. “Why so hostile, love?” “You whacked me on the head with a ball!” “You deserved it.

Unicorns and rainbows exist because we want them to.

Unravel my magic carpet. Shake the gold dust from my trips to the sun & take it for a spin, to the center of your universe; Within.

Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long.

Vane grabbed me. “DuLac, let’s chat.” Chat. British-speak for “Stand still while I yell at you.

Venus was rising, holding her own in the sky that was beginning to brighten. As I left the docks and warehouses behind, I came to a marshy shoreline, thick with water reeds. Though the sky above was clear, the water's surface swirled with little mists. I began to sing a song to Isis, made up on the spot, which caught the rhythm of the oars. A breeze sprang up and the reeds sang with me. Then as the first rays of sun dimmed the stars, birds everywhere lifted their voices and rose in line after line into the sky. On the outskirts of the city, I came to what looked like it might have been an abandoned villa or farmstead. I decided to sit down and watch the lake changing colors with the light. That's when I heard it. Not the soft lapping of the water against the shore, but the sound of flowing water. I looked and in the glowing light, I saw a small stream, eally just a trickle washing down a pebbly incline towards the lake. Something prompted me to follow the stream inland. I made my way though brambly thickets of brambling roses. The way seemed to open for me, the thorns all but retracting so as not to catch my cloak or scratch my arms and legs. At the source, I knelt down and parted the thicket, and there it was. The spring at the base of the hill so steep, it was almost a cliff. The water bubbled up from the darkness of earth, giving back the brightness of sky. Like all springs, a way between worlds. I was no stranger to sacred springs and magic wells. I was raised to revere them. I had first glimpsed my beloved on the well of wisdom on Tir n mBan. But this spring. I closed my eyes to listen to its sound, and I knew I had heard it before. The wind picked up, washing over me, scented with fish and roses. When it quieted again, I opened my eyes and gazed at the clear surface of the pool, and for an instant, I saw a tower, and the dawn sky, and the two people standing there. Then the image vanished, but I had seen all I needed to see. Alright, I said to myself, my goddess, to Miriam's know it all angels, Magala is is. And by the way, I added, my name is Maeve.

Very few are brave enough to look at the portals to higher dimensions of conscience that open before their eyes, either they’re confronting them from one perspective or another. These portals represent amazing opportunities for the ones with the courage to see them and cross them. But only a very powerful person possesses the power to open one for others. And if you think that person is what it seems, you will neglect the magician hiding behind the illusion.

Vibe high and the magic around you will unfold.

... waiting for the spell to end, as all spells must.

Walk a bit further. There is a different land not far away. The people in it have the magic to break the icy fingers of the great death. I heard that you don’t even have to pay. However, you have to find their door. It is only found by those who pay the other price.

Walking under Dusk, Moonlit leaf shadows were cast on my skin from the trees above, every step I took was taking a step deeper into magic. Silent whispers of mystical mouthes pulling me in deeper. Then the lights from inside the house turned on. A few seconds later, the fence lights went on. Just like that, the leafy ghosts on my skin ran away and the faery voices ran home. It seems like the creations of man kill magic in so many ways— even the light bulb does this! Oh to be a race of people designing magical things, if someone could capture pieces of Moonlight and place it in a jar; or other things like that, then we could stop killing the magic and be filled with it instead. Or maybe we are already always filled with it. It's the bringing out that we have trouble with. Stop being a doorknob, darling! Be magical, instead!

Was it magic? Of course it was.

Wait until you meet my family. At Thanksgiving, we kill everything we can find, put it into a pot, and call it 'holiday gumbo'.

Was he a real goblin? A minute ago Ben would have scoffed at the prospect, but then came the dragon.

We always underestimated our own participation in magic. That is, we thought of magic as something that existed with or without us. But that’s not true. Things are not magical because they’ve been conjured for us by some outside force. They are magical because we create them, and then deem them so. Ryan and Avery will say the first moment they spoke, the first moment they danced, was magical. But they were the ones—no one else, nothing else—who gave it the magic. We know. We were there. Ryan opened himself to it. Avery opened himself to it. And the act of opening was all they needed. That is the magic.

We are all alchemists with amnesia.

We are about to study the idea of a computational process. Computational processes are abstract beings that inhabit computers. As they evolve, processes manipulate other abstract things called data. The evolution of a process is directed by a pattern of rules called a program. People create programs to direct processes. In effect, we conjure the spirits of the computer with our spells. A computational process is indeed much like a sorcerer's idea of a spirit. It cannot be seen or touched. It is not composed of matter at all. However, it is very real. It can perform intellectual work. It can answer questions. It can affect the world by disbursing money at a bank or by controlling a robot arm in a factory. The programs we use to conjure processes are like a sorcerer's spells. They are carefully composed from symbolic expressions in arcane and esoteric programming languages that prescribe the tasks we want our processes to perform. A computational process, in a correctly working computer, executes programs precisely and accurately. Thus, like the sorcerer's apprentice, novice programmers must learn to understand and to anticipate the consequences of their conjuring. Even small errors (usually called bugs or glitches) in programs can have complex and unanticipated consequences.

We are all beautiful fragments of magic Weaving through the hearts of those that meet us along the way

We are all transformed by stardust, say both the wisest and most unhinged scholars of our day. Therefore, if one could be transported to the stars, one could reform her body and her mind and become a person different than the flawed wretch she currently is. It is a risky proposition, trusting the fickle cosmic winds to better a terrestrial, mortal body, but what is magic if not a declaration that one no longer cares?

We are great magicians. We can magnify the magnificence of a moment with the magic of our minds. Our thoughts can make us see the 'extra' in the ordinary.

We are of the forest and of magi, and we have always been.