Quotes About Enchantment

But Fairyland is an old place, and old things have strange hungers.

Hounds and hearthstones, girl, haven't you ever heard a story about Koschei? He's only got the one. Act one, Scene one: pretty girl. Act one, Scene two: pretty girl gone!

This is some hard-core, triple-X, keep-it-in-the-back-room-under-a-curtain, Alice in Wonderland action is what this is," Decibel said with total delight.

Who knows what wild things Sleeping Beauty dreamt of while waiting to awake?

You are a Witch. I am a Prince. In all the books, where there is a Witch and a Prince there is a way.

For a witch is nothing without her Spoon.

Sometimes, magic is like that. It lands on your head like a piano, a stupid, ancient, unfunny joke, and you spend the rest of your life picking sharps and flats out of your hair.

He meant to kill me...No, not kill me – make me forget. Forget everything. He said we'd live together in a house of pumpkin and gold – yes, once I couldn't remember why I'd come to Fairyland-Below, or recall Fairyland-Above, or even Omaha and Mother and Father and any reason not to live in Tain and feast every night! How could he? That's as bad as killing, to take away everything a person is.

She still longed for the best heights of magic, to see dragons and mermaids, to see the naked world.

The Heart of Fairyland is a story

The only words that ever satisfied me as describing Nature are the terms used in fairy books, charm, spell, enchantment. They express the arbitrariness of the fact and its mystery.

It is Unity that doth enchant me. By her power I am free though thrall, happy in sorrow, rich in poverty, and quick even in death.

dispor espelhos em círculo para transformar uma centelha em encantamento.

She knew him. Somehow. And wasn't that quite marvelous?

Das Ewig Weibliche zieht uns hinan.

Wonder shows in the light of our eyes. Without it, they become dull and old.

The object of true art is to charm the imagintion...

A precious – mouldering pleasure – 'tis – To meet an Antique Book – In just the Dress his Century wore – A privilege – I think – His venerable Hand to take – And warming in our own – A passage back – or two – to make – To Times when he – was young... His presence is enchantment – You beg him not to go – Old Volumes shake their Vellum Heads And tantalize – just so –

Spread your wings and let the fairy in you fly!

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn...

A lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet.

A rustle in the wind reminds us a fairy is near.

Fairies glitter our hearts with giggles.

Nobody is too old for fairy tales.