Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

Thank God!" he said, and kissed her. Kissing Mairelon was much nicer than anything she had ever dared to imagine, despite the headache.

That's how I do this life sometimes by making the ordinary just like magic and just like a card trick and just like a mirror and just like the disappearing. Every Indian learns how to be a magician and learns how to misdirect attention and the dark hand is always quicker than the white eye and no matter how close you get to my heart you will never find out my secrets and I'll never tell you and I'll never show you the same trick twice. I'm traveling heavy with illusions.

That's magic I admire, using something that exists anyway and turning it round into a curse.

That's the thing about magic; you've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.

That's the tragedy of fairy tales. The whole world puts them on a pedestal. People want their lives to be magical, but what people don't understand is that happiness is sacrificed. There is so much more to the story than what is written. The Cinderella you think she's so unfortunate with her mean sisters and stepmom. You think she deserves a happy ending with a prince, but the twenty-page journey is all you see. You learn little about who she is. What if Cinderella's just a good actress who has everyone fooled, when really, she sucks. She more than sucks.

That’s the beauty of magic. You can get it no matter how rich or poor you are.

That's the Wildcat I remember.

That's what you people never understand," said Rincewind, wearily. "You think magic is just something you can pick up and use like a, a -" "Parsnip?" said Nijel. "Wine Bottle?" said the Seriph. "Something like that," said Rincewind cautiously, but rallied somewhat and went on, "But the truth is, is -" "Not like that?" "More like a wine bottle?" said the Seriph hopefully. "Magic uses people," said Rincewind hurriedly. "It affects you as much as you affect it, sort of thing. You can't mess around with magical things without it affecting you. I just thought I'd better warn you." "Like a wine bottle," said Creosote, "that -" "- drinks you back," said Rincewind.

...that witchcraft requires no potions, familiar spirits, or magic wands. Language upon a silver tongue affords enchantment enough.

The best teacher you'll ever have is yourself. I'm not your teacher! I'm here only to show you the way towards what you already know, and also, show you a way to find out what you don't know but feel that it exists.

The bet comes to the place it knows, It does not miss its former path, No kind of magic holds it back It comes to those who give it water.

The best writing speaks when the heart whispers.

The boy was twelve, reveling in the strange dust-smelling murk of a New Orleans library, watching motes flash gold in a beam of sun. He loved the ceiling lights on chains and the table lamps with their green glass shades. The room was as beautiful as another world.

The Boy looked at him for a long time before responding. “Well, as long as you’re my friend, I’ll never ignore you,” he said with conviction. “I know what it’s like to be invisible to other people.

The cards give you images and symbols to focus your vague intentions and transform them into action. Your will is the magic. In other words, you are the magic. If you can create something in your heart and then act on it to make it happen, that is magic. Very simple, very straightforward—no witches, no spells, and no broomsticks.

The city had fallen, his parents had died, no shred of their old lives would be left by the shape-shifters, but there were still lords galloping around on horses that could uphold the old rules. The destruction and desperation had afforded Alistair a few moments of freedom to practice magic, but now he would go back to the life of poverty and misery and powerlessness that he had been born to.

The cracks grew over him like vines, faster and faster. At first he bucked, whinnying metallic screeches. Then he gradually stilled, looking up at me with frightened glass eyes. He was growing. New, molten glass leeched out between his fissures, cooled and hardened only to crack again and make room for more liquid glass. The gears inside him moaned and creaked, and metal filings gathered at the base of his transparent stomach, only to fly up again and form more joints and chains and gears. Black smoke poured from his nostrils. Soon he was the size of a large dog, then a man, and still he grew and grew until he towered over my bed, as big as any plow horse I’d ever seen. Glass dripped down his flanks like sweat, a few rivulets still glowing with molten heat.

The creatures of human myth flourish in Ourea. Trees are this world's skyscrapers. Magic its currency. And while the rest of Earth forgot what it means to dream big, Ourea kept alive its wonder.

The darkness offered no comfort. It only shrouded the true nature of that place. It hid the mocking and gloating eyes of the unseen. The cold, dank air chilled everything in the room and had long since seeped into the very marrow of the girl’s bones. It gave no relief and only aggravated the already sore skin around her wrists and ankles. The skin that had been rubbed raw by the manacles that bit into them. The manacles that kept her chained to the stone slab on which she was forced to lie. The girl did not know how long she had been there, nor where ‘there’ was. All that she knew was that she had been forsaken, and that there were only two ways she would ever see the outside of that room again, and neither of them were desirable.

The deepest of powers are often the most subtle. Something that most fail to realize... ☥

The deeper magic always comes, in the intense sorcery of your inner silence.

The denizens of Feyland find the absence of magic to be quite funny. I mean no offense. ” “None taken.” “For example – In the Land Over the Crystal River (for that's how we refer to humans), there was once a man and a woman. And the man was in love with the woman, and wanted her for himself. But because he had no magic, he couldn't feel whether or not there was a “pull” towards her or not, so he didn't know whether she loved him or not. So what did he do?” “What?” “He had to ASK her!” Kian couldn't help laughing. “I don't get it!” “Ask her!” said Kian. “It's funny – because he didn't have magic.” His laughter grew louder and less controlled, tinkling like bells in the winter snow. “He had to ask her!” I realized that there were some cultural barriers Kian and I might never transcend.

The greatest peril of life lies in the fact that human food consists entirely of souls. All the creatures that we to kill and eat, all those that we have to strike down and destroy to make clothes for ourselves, have souls, souls that do not perish with the body and which must therefore be pacified lest they revenge themselves on us for taking away their bodies

The Green Man had stepped into the fire smiling a warm, yet wry smile on his brown face of living wood. She had watched his tall body, which was covered in rich brocade made of leaves, with a crown of holly bright with scarlet berries on his head, disappear into the leaping flames as though they were a cozy blanket. He was gone in a flash as the tall flames engulfed him with a loud whoosh. Tears had coursed down her cheeks while others cheered the onset of the solstice and toasted the beginning of longer days.

The ground keeps changing." He gave her arm a gentle pinch. "Do you still think this is a dream?" "All dreams change," said Saffron. "That's how you know they're dreams." "So does reality," he replied. "That's how you know it's real.

The heartache of your brother and your best friend? I mean, Hayes if it's not your business, then whose business is it?

The Healing spells on his chest were certainly earning their keep tonight. Sullivan got to his feet. The lack of noise from the courtyard indicated that his team had gotten all the mechanical men. “Thanks.” Toru just grunted a noncommittal response as he lifted the feed tray to check the condition of his borrowed machine gun. They didn’t see the final robot inside until it turned on its eye and illuminated the Iron Guard in blue light. Sullivan’s Spike reversed gravity, and the gigantic machine fell upward to hit the steel beams in the ceiling. Sullivan cut his Power and the robot dropped. It crashed hard into the floor where it lay twitching and kicking. The two of them riddled the mechanical man with bullets until the light died and it lay still in a spreading puddle of oil. “Normally, this would be the part where you thank me for returning the favor and saving your life.” “Yes. Normally… If we were court ladies instead of warriors,” Toru answered. “Shall we continue onward or do you wish to stop and discuss your feelings over tea?” Sullivan looked forward to the day that the two of them would be able to finish their fight. “Let’s go.

The Hedgehog I ran away and hid in the woods, I was an imprudent child, in My charmed hedgehog skin, I ran away And I was happy in my fairytale Forest, where no one came in, nor Could have penetrated my white magic, I was protected from any disturbances. I was feeding on blueberries, blackberries, wild Fruits, I ate, wept, and I was looking for The tender raspberry, which, magically, It could change my dreams in reality And could drive all my sadness away; Here in my divine forest I loved And I was much loved...

The heightened sanity of science and the sheer lunacy of magic. It's in the area where they overlap that we both are able to find... ecstasy!

The hidden mist of forgotten truth is not for the mundane eye to see... ☥

The idea of magic being something that is separate from everyday life – known to the magicians but not the ordinary people – still slows down our recognition that it is here, now, of the Earth and Universe, all around us, and perhaps most essentially, in us.

The implication of this particular tale is: Trust strangers. Believe in magic.

Their meal was illuminated by torches, which Gwen found were utterly without fire. What the children called torches were really just small platforms on tall, wooden poles. The reason they radiated light was because fairies had flown up to them to waltz and glow on the tiny dance floors.

The irony was that my real enemy had been there all along right in front of me. Smiling crookedly and convincing me we were friends. Trying to seduce me for the thrill of the chase. Chastising me for not trusting him that first year in the tower stairs at the Academy… Telling me he loved me. And then tossing me aside the second I jeopardized his dreams. I wasn’t what he had wanted all these years. I’d merely been a diversion in his pursuit of the crown. I never should have trusted a prince.

The key to having good scales is a healthy diet of venison when you’re just a wee dragon lad.

The King had advertised the old magic tea set, but for some reason, no one wanted sugar teeth that could gouge their eyes out.

The law of sympathy is one of the most basic parts of magic. It states that the more similar two objects are, the greater the sympathetic link. The greater the link, the more easily they influence each other.

The longer Ellen Cherry thought about it, the more convinced she became that the mission of the artist in an overtechnologized, overmasculinized society was to call the old magic back to life. Could it be done? Yeah, you pessimistic wimps, it could. Could she do it? Probably not, but she could give it a whirl.

The magic in that country was so thick and tenacious that it settled over the land like chalk-dust and over floors and shelves like sticky plaster-dust. (House-cleaners in that country earned unusually good wages.) If you lived in that country, you had to de-scale your kettle of its encrustation of magic at least once a week, because if you didn't, you might find yourself pouring hissing snakes or pond slime into your teapot instead of water. (It didn't have to be anything scary or unpleasant, especially in a cheerful household - magic tended to reflect the atmosphere of the place in which it found itself -- but if you want a cup of tea, a cup of lavender-and-gold pansies or ivory thimbles is unsatisfactory.)

The magic swirling around Bae made her look menacing, almost feral and he wanted her more than he'd wanted any other woman. She was something else entirely.

The magic to attain victory is simple…..Just believe.

The madness of our endless minds bewitched in magic... (fragment from Our last tango, chapter Passion)

The magic happens only after we start believing that it will happen, the tricks may look ordinary in the beginning, but they gain extra-ordinary power once strengthened by hope and determination. Hope is magic, just keep searching for the new tricks.

The magic of love is that it becomes our memory which we never can forget.

...the magic of love runs at cross purposes with the rhythm of living...

The Magician makes the visible, invisible. The Scientist makes the invisible, visible. The Artist stands in between, indivisible.

The magic of everyday life is the sacred moment.

The magic in my blood prickles at the strangeness, but I have no time to think of things beyond this world.

The magic of life hides in the dusty corners of chaos and you must sweep out the cobwebs of confusion before you reach the calm & euphorically moments; your soul believed, existed all along.

The magic of the Kitsune was calling for her to claim it, own it, perhaps even be consumed by it.