Best 3503 quotes in «magic quotes» category

This girl is magic. She's wild incantations. She's that spark that lit me back to life and I'm burning for her.

This is beautiful." Eugenie ran her fingers along a massive mahogany sideboard, on the top of which rested a red velvet sash with fine embroidery on it and, on top of the sash, a silver dagger. That little vignette was Jean Lafitte in a nutshell. Refined gentleman and renegade. Velvet and violence.

This is the back door to the lore kept in store in the whispering pages within. Come in, come embark! Something gleams in the dark, and it's spinning a spell now. Come in! Only first flip the book for the front of it looks like a much better place to begin.

This is the gateway to Hell, baby… Welcome to The Underworld.

This is the Self-Esteem Looking-Glass. You have to look in the mirror and compliment yourself.

This is the simplest of spells, and foundation to all others. Magic seeks to better understand, and eventually to build on, the connection between minds and bodies. Even to calm a storm, you treat the wind and rain as if they were alive and corporeal. That is why blood is part of the spell, along with words and symbols.

This is the story of a boy named Pete Coutinho, who had a spell put on him. Some people might have called it a curse. I don't know. It depends on a lot of things, on whether you've got gipsy blood, like old Beatriz Sousa, who learned a lot about magic from the wild gitana tribe in the mountains beyond Lisbon, and whether you're satisfied with a fisherman's life in Cabrillo. Not that a fisherman's life is a bad one, far from it. By day you go out in the boats that rock smoothly across the blue Gulf waters, and at night you can listen to music and drink wine at the Shore Haven or the Castle or any of the other taverns on Front Street. What more do you want? What more is there? And what does any sensible man, or any sensible boy, want with that sorcerous sort of glamor that can make everything incredibly bright and shining, deepening colors till they hurt, while wild music swings down from stars that have turned strange and alive? Pete shouldn't have wanted that, I suppose, but he did, and probably that's why there happened to him - what did happen. And the trouble began long before the actual magic started working. ("Before I Wake...")

This is why children can see Angels, touch spirits, hear the songs of the trees, and talk to the animals. Quite simply, they acknowledge the magic.

This is the beginning of a new time,” Torius said, “a great moment for us. One of us has learnt the Tongue and freed a princess. I have saved him and killed the guards. No longer will we be slaves. No longer will the guards tell us what to do. No longer will we listen. We will fight till we get what we want!” A roar exploded from the children around him. “This is a revolution,” Torius went on. “You all remember the pain that you have felt when the guards have touched you. You all know the shame we carry within us at being treated like this. No more! We will stand!

This is why I don't trust magic," he muttered, leaning back against the tree. "Inanimate objects like swords and scrolls should not WANT to be found. They should not want anything.

This is why magic is worse even than quantum physics. Because, while both spit in the eye of common sense, I've never yet had a Higgs bosun turn up and try to have a conversation with me.

This is the twilight shift, dear. Neither here nor there. But if you go into the dark, there'll be no turning back. Stay out of the office and you'll be happy. Trust me.

This magical universe is so faithful in waiting for us to get out of our own way. No matter how long you have gone astray, when you take action, the universe moves to support the act. Move in the direction of your goals and watch the magic flow.

This magic does not work with anger.

This is why magic is dangerous. It lures you in. It makes you curious.

this was a moment of magic revealing to us all, for a few moments, a hidden world of grace and wonder beyond the one of which our eyes told us, a world that no words could delineate, as insubstanttial as a cloud, as iridescent as a dragon-fly and as innocent as the heart of a rose.

This, then, is the beast that has never actually been: not having seen one, they prized in any case its perfect poise, its throat, the straightforward gaze it gave them back—so straightforward, so serene. Since it had never been, it was all the more unsullied. And they allowed it such latitude that, in a clearing in the wood, it raised its head as if its essence shrugged off mere existence. They brought it on, not with oats or corn, but with the chance, however slight, that it would come on its own. This gave it such strength that from its brow there sprang a horn. A single horn. Only when it met a maiden’s white with white Would it be bodied out in her, in her mirror’s full length.

This time, I invited it in. I felt the darkness tame my impetuous nature, allowing me to feed slowly on the hatred and control it. The coldness flowed through my veins and to the lengths of each limb. The icy darkness pooled in my chest and chilled my heart.

This time he had no choice but to look into her eyes. He did not look away. It was the bright fierce gaze that she remembered so vividly from their first meeting. He’d reminded her of an eagle, the Castellan of Amyth

This place was as dark and carried the same scent of pine trees that was common to the forest. She could hear the wind lightly swaying the branches, but there were no sounds out of the ordinary. Everything seemed the same. “What am I missing?” Ursula asked curiously, though she wondered whether Aleana had stopped just to see what she’d say or do. Aleana giggled. “So the charm really does hide it from human sight.” She gave the air a knock, and strangely there was a sound, just like she was knocking on wood.

This time Simone did not smile at all. "I cannot tell that to you, child. This is a secret I am not allowed to talk about. I only hope that you will know how to follow the true and right path. And now, farewell!" She turned around and walked away between the bookshelves, disappearing from their sight. Nirupa looked at the book she held in her hand. On its thick front cover she read: "Atlantis." Deep shudders shook her body. She turned her head and looked at Miss Bell, who also looked numb with fear. "Now that we have started the adventure, me must carry it through to the end," Ni whispered to Miss Bell, opening the book. She did not have time to see what was written inside because, once the first page was open, a whirl of warm air sucked Ni and Miss. Bell inside, In the twinkle of an eye they found themselves standing up on the main street of a magnificent bazaar.

Those of strong character and training are chosen by fate. They cannot help but rise to the forefront when their nations are troubled.

This world is Pure Magic, and you are no less than a miracle.

This was the kind of romantic moment any man, dead or alive, would remember forever. A thread of magic that would become stitched inside of a freeze frame of memory.

Those who wish to learn magic ought to begin by looking around them.

Though Queen Victoria in England had suggested that makeup was impolite, even vanity, Gideon saw it as yet another weapon. It was not so different from magic.

Thoughts are powerful, one thinking for something makes big changes... you try... Imagine this say "I want to fuck", then imaginate a girl. A woman which is 18 years old, blonde hair, white skin, big ass, big boobs, long legs, and likes to play with dicks... Think few times on such type of stuff and look the magic!

Though in this genre we write about the fantastic, the stories work best when there is solid grounding in our world. Magic works best for me when it aligns with scientific principles. Worldbuilding works best when it draws from sources in our world. Characters work best when they’re grounded in solid human emotion and experience.

Three. I had just made my first, second, and third kill. Before I had even obtained my mage’s robes. I bent over and vomited into the grass. There was no pride, no justice, just the appalling sense that I had lost my innocence. That I was a monster.

Threshold is where the madness ends and the magic begins.

Three generations before I was the one meant for the necklace. I saw him when I was three years old, so clear and strong that he could slip his warm hand in mine, he could lift me in the air, yes, lift my body, but I refused him. I turned my back on him. I told him, You go back to the hell from which you came. And I used my power to fight him.

Throughout his life, Bradbury liked to recount the story of meeting a carnival magician, Mr. Electrico, in 1932. At the end of his performance Electrico reached out to the twelve-year-old Bradbury, touched the boy with his sword, and commanded, Live forever! Bradbury later said, I decided that was the greatest idea I had ever heard. I started writing every day. I never stopped.

Thus the writing of ethnography becomes a magical act, no less than the creation of a ritual, the making of a spell, or the manufacture of a sacred object: the ethnographer is by definition a magician.

Thus each step in sorcery is also a step in slavery; and that any man should put such power in the hands of another, no matter for what hope of gain, is one of the mysteries of perverse psychology.

Tiffany got up early and lit the fires. When her mother came down, she was scrubbing the kitchen floor, very hard. “Er…aren’t you supposed to do that sort of thing by magic, dear?” said her mother, who’d never really got the hang of what witchcraft was all about. “No, Mum, I’m supposed not to,” said Tiffany, still scrubbing. “But can’t you just wave your hand and make all the dirt fly away, then?” “The trouble is getting the magic to understand what dirt is,” said Tiffany, scrubbing hard at a stain. “I heard of a witch over in Escrow who got it wrong and ended up losing the entire floor and her sandals and nearly a toe.” Mrs. Aching backed away. “I thought you just had to wave your hands about,” she mumbled nervously. “That works,” said Tiffany, “but only if you wave them about on the floor with a scrubbing brush.

Time is self absorbed, takes what it wants and doesn't return the favor. It is greedy, its pockets full of the lives of those left behind. It is a magician and a thief.

Time travel was only a kind of magic, after all. That's why it always went wrong.

Tis just you and me, all alone.” She smiled suggestively. “And there is an inn here before us,” Killian noted. “Just a few steps to the doorway.” She smiled. “They surely have beds.” He grinned.

Time’s relativity is considered and abandoned, for the more revelatory experiences of starlight in strands, and pearly floors that span as far as absolute compassion...

To be content, horse people need only a horse, or, lacking that, someone else who loves horses with whom they can talk. It was always that way with my grandfather. He took me places just so we could see horses, be near them. We went to the circus and the rodeo at Madison Square Garden. We watched parades down Fifth Avenue. Finding a horse, real or imagined, was like finding a dab of magic potion that enlivened us both. Sometimes I'd tell my grandfather about all the horses in my eleborate dreams. He'd lean over, smile, and assure me that, one day, I'd have one for real. And if my grandfather, my Opa, told me something was going to come true, it always did.

To create the magic, you should first believe in it.

Today, there are very few unicorns left, and not many witches or wizards. But there is always magic—the power to create sufficient conditions for spirits to manifest, to bring consciousness from the realms of potential into the world of action.

To dream of a magical world is one thing. To be told it exists is quite another.

To each his own magic.

To find magic in the mending.

To face a real daemon, you must first look inwards and conquer your own darkness. ☥

To fix a problem change the way you look at it. Remind yourself YOU are the one who is in control of your life. Conquer your fears and persuade your problem by looking for the beauty inside ugliness, and let it swallow negativity. You are the one who creates your own path, and makes things happen, and you are the one who creates reasons to be unhappy. lluminate rather than merely to contemplate.The power of change dwells within us.

Together the magicks swirled and danced around us, invisible but tangible, like an breeze. This wasn't defensive or offensive magic. It wasn't used to gather information, for strategy or diplomacy, or to fight a war against supernatural enemy. It simply was. It was fundamental, inexorable. It was nothing and everything, infinity and oblivion, from the magnificent furnace of a star to the electrons that hummed in an atom. It was life and death and everything in between, the urge to fight and grow and swim and fly. It was a cascade of water across boulders, the slow-moving advance of mountain glaciers, the march of time.

Together they’d run away. Together they could find a place to call home. Together they’d finally form their own constellation and never break apart again. He would be her starlight again and she his sun.

To have a story of a Talismanist is to have a story of living talismanic concepts.