Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

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 law of manifestation operates like a triangle: First, know what you want and visualize it as if you already had it; Second, see it behind the illusion of reality, practice it in your decisions, choose the people you hang out with, etc; Third, believe, have faith and work on your emotions to be at the right frequency. This triangle of manifestation is one of the secrets of many religions: Christianity, Scientology, and Freemasonry. In Masonry is seen as "heart, mind and desire"; in Scientology is perceived as "reality, communication and affinity"; in Christianity is understood as "Father, son and holy ghost"; basically, "actions, learnings and emotions". In Christianity, the Father equals reality or the Creator of the illusion, the son is the way, the path, he road of our decisions and actions, and the holy ghost is our heart, instincts and desires manifested in that same path. In word words, through Jesus, and with the power of the holy ghost, you reach God. This is an allegory that not many Christians can understand. Jesus represent behavior - right and wrong, the holy ghost is our faith, your heart and emotions reflecting back at you what you attract, it's the energy that connects you to your dreams, and God represents the Architect of Reality. So, through moral behavior and positive emotions, your understand God and life, and then you receive "paradise". This paradise is whatever you dream for yourself. Furthermore, if someone has shown you this way, he has been as an angel to you, a messenger of God; if someone stopped you from reaching it, he has been as a demon, a worker for Satan, the enemy, if you failed in seeing this path, you have redirected yourself towards hell. And if you hate your life, you are already in hell. If you want to get out of hell, you must accept the truth, and this truth is that you must know God, for He is the truth. He and the truth are one and the same.

The lifting of an arm or leg is magic.

The light changed slightly. Mari looked up and over at one wall. There was now a narrow, roughly door-shaped hole in it. Standing in the hole was Mage Alain. Mari stood up, realizing that her mouth was hanging open. That wall was solid. I felt it. There wasn't any opening. She watched as the Mage took two shaky steps into the cell, then paused, some of the strain leaving his face. She blinked, wondering what she had just seen, as the hole in the wall vanished as if it had never been. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. ... Mari took a long slow breath. 'They use smoke and mirrors and other 'magic' to make commons think they can create temporary holes in walls and things like that. It's all nonsense.' "Mages actually can make real holes in walls." "No." Her head hurting with increased intensity, Mari glowered at the Mage. "You didn't make a hole in the wall?" "I made the illusion of a hole in the illusion of the wall." Mari looked at Mage Alain for what felt like a long time, trying to detect any sign of mockery or lying. But he seemed perfectly sincere. And unless she had completely lost her mind, he had just walked through that solid wall. ... "We can get out the same way that you got in?" Mari asked. "Through imaginary holes in the imaginary wall?" She wondered how her guild would feel about seeing that in her report. Actually, she didn't have to wonder, but she wasn't about to turn down a chance at escape. The Mage took a deep breath and swayed on his feet. "No." "No?" "Unfortunately—" Alain collapsed into a seated position on the cot next to her—"the effort of finding you has exhausted me. There were several walls to get through. I can do no more for some time. I am probably incapable of any major effort until morning." He shook his head. "I did not plan this well. Maybe the elders are right and seventeen is simply too young to be a Mage." Mari stared at him. "Are you telling me that you came to rescue me, following a metaphorical thread through imaginary holes, but now that you're in the same cell with me you can't get us out?" "Yes, that is correct. This one erred." "That one sure did. Now instead of one of us being stuck in here, we're both stuck in here." The Mage gave her a look which actually betrayed a trace of irritation. He must have really been exhausted for such a feeling to show. "I do not have much experience with rescues. Are you always so difficult?

The lonesome and desperate kids out there, that pain will translate to magic perhaps.

The logic behind magic is that we create what we are imagining.

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.

The magic that turns dreams into reality is YOU! When you are inspired by a dream, create a good plan; that turns it into a goal. Then, live your life in a way that will bring that dream, that goal, to life. The magic is you.

...the magic was a tool, though a natural, mysterious tool. In its awareness of the magic, his human nature had desired to connect with it, to use it. The whisperings were the voice of his own awakening, not the seductive call of a dark power. Using it was not corruption, but a natural extension of his being. And he could control the manner in which he used it. He would.

The Magic Circle by John William Waterhouse [...] stuck in my mind because of the subject's flagrant health and safety violation. As any competent practitioner will tell you, you always complete your protective circle *before* you start your workings.

The magic fades too fast the scent of summer never lasts the nights turn hollow and vast but nothing remains...nothing lasts.

The magic had started to degrade, and Rosemary had slowly but surely become thoroughly, gruesomely human. And there were few things worse in this world than humans.

The magic of a story is when the characters come to life, and defy our expectation.

The magic of love is available to us all; we have to learn how to align ourselves so we can connect to its source, doing so will allow magic an opening to manifest in our lives

The master initiate of any craft appears magical to the uninitiated.

The memories of beautiful moments are magical.

The moon was reigning over their world, glowing its full splendor to all those willing to look up.

The most fundamental, basic need in magick, is the development of the will. The magus says, “I will, and not heaven nor hell can stop me.” It is in this forming and growing, creating, of the will, where heaven and hell learns to follow the will of the magus. A person who wants to develop the soul must never say, “Maybe” or “If I see a sign” because the master creates his own signs. If you need a star to align in front of a tree because that to you would be a sign, then you make the star align with the tree, if not in this world, in the other worlds and in the other dimensions. There are no “ifs” and there are no “maybes” there are only “I wills.” This is the basic platform of magick, and most people never get past it, because not all can.

The most glorious hour in Manhattan was when twilight fell in sheets across the Great Lawn. Bands of blue turned darker by the moment as the last of the pale light filtered through the boughs of cherry trees and black locusts. In October, the meadows turned gold; the vines were twists of yellow and red.

The most interesting thing was the talk from the customers. Nobody can buy a hat without gossiping. Sophie sat in her alcove and stitched and heard [...] that Wizard Howl’s castle had moved round to the cliffs again, really that man, whisper, whisper, whisper… The voices always dropped low when they talked of Wizard Howl, [...] Then there would be a fleeting, fearful whisper about the Witch of the Waste. Sophie began to feel that Wizard Howl and the Witch of the Waste should get together.

The night King Saran hung my people for the world to see, declaring war against the maji of today and tomorrow. The night magic died. The night we lost everything.

The nature of Paganism is that of exploring, evolution, and opening up.

Then I shall tell you the truthful answers to the questions you asked, about my own intentions and motivations. They are not so simple."... He cocked an eyebrow and his cobalt eyes took on a playful sparkle. "If I were to avow that you are my immortal life's great passion, that I would give up immortality itself to be at your side and in your bed, you would not believe me, n'est-ce pas?

The night! When the outside world is hiding in darkness, you have to turn on the light within in order to see where you put your steps.

Then, idly scratching his nose, he walks to the bookcase in the living room and stoops before a set of drab brown Victorian volumes gathering dust on the second shelf from the bottom. How amusing, he thinks, as he withdraws one of them-amusing that a key to dark and ancient rites should survive in such innocuous-looking form. A young fool like Freirs would probably refuse to believe it. Like the rest of his doomed kind, he'd probably expect such lore to be found only in ancient leather-bound tomes with gothic lettering and portentously sinister titles. He'd search for it in mysterious old trunks and private vaults, in the "restricted" sections of libraries, in intricately carved wood chests with secret compartments. But there are no real secrets, the Old One knows. Secrets are ultimately too hard to conceal. The keys to the rites that will transform the world are neither hidden nor rare nor expensive. They are available to anyone. You can find them on the paperback racks or in any second-hand bookshop.

Then there are the simple things. The way she fits against my side when we’re sitting together. How she can silence my addled thoughts with one look. The sound of my name from her lips. The way she can make a moment, any moment, a thousands times better when she is there. How the simplest pleasures in life become exciting with the promise of sharing the experience with her.

Then what’s changed?” You are the only witch in all of Antebellum who has earned Deasyvla’s trust and fully merged with a dragon. She shrugged. “So?” You, Sanna of Anguis, are now the High Dragonmaster.

the nights would be orphaned without the sound of crickets chirping.

Then it is not uncommon for a man to become lost in a single letter, or hear a voice rise up from the silent page.

The night is Ours. Rejoicing in the ethereal realms where We are kings. Blessed souls of forgotten immortality. They fear Us in every grasp.

Then, things get hard, because once you know magic exists, you have to decide whether to be the bystander, or the magician … and we were all born to be magicians.

The older wounds had long ago taken hold of her body, leaving behind a map of her biggest victories.

The old woman had been bent over a patch of heirloom tomatoes, their aroma seeping up into the air, making indiscernible patterns on the sky. -The Girl with Dragonfly Wings

The old crone smiles crookedly and sighs. “There is more to magic than darkness, my dear.

The only magic that's left in the world right now is the magic that we make ourselves, deliberately. You're not going to stumble over enchantment by chance. You have to be open to it, looking for it, and when you first think you might have glimpsed it, you have to will it into your life with every machination available to you.

The only thing more unpredictable than magic is language.

The people who move forward and overcome their fears do not have some special powers or a magic pill they take; they just have more practice in facing their fears.

The Paco's Loco Tacos sign on my right lures me in. Not for the first time, I wonder if the tacos are crazy, if Paco is crazy, or if we are crazy for buying them. Well, I personally think a touch of crazy is one of the spices of life.