Quotes About Spell

for it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Running through caverns of darkness.… —HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, "The Courtship of Miles Standish," 1858.

We play two games. Larynx, I spell. Valance. Quince. Zygote. I hold the glossy counters with their smooth edges, finger the letters. The feeling is voluptuous. This is freedom, an eyeblink of it. Limp, I spell. Gorge. What a luxury. The counters are like candies, made of peppermint, cool like that. Humbugs, those were called. I would like to put them into my mouth. They would taste also of lime. The letter C. Crisp, slightly acid on the tongue, delicious. I

Life, life, you sang with every cell, compelled into dancing as the spell held you enchained and you burned air.

Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos!

Did all the answers lie beyond the open door? Is the future beyond the open door? For after all, why could this not become, in spite of everything, a mere chapter of her life, marked off and seldom reread, once she had returned to the outside world where she had been kept all these years, quite beyond the spells and enchantments that were now claiming her? Oh, but it wasn't going to be. Because when you fell prey to a spell this strong, you were never the same.

A witch is a person who can attract and manipulate unseen forces," said Aaron.

Oh, come on. I have to know about the who-do voodoo that you do. (Nick)

Sebastos Eudorus Parthenopaeus. He is really going to hate us when he has to learn to spell all that." – Acheron

Tell me, Sorcerer, is there any spell you have that can take this agony from me? (Talon) Aye, Celt. I can show you how to bury that pain so deep inside you that it will prick you no more. But be warned that nothing is ever given freely and nothing last forever. One day something will come along to make you feel again, and with it, it will bring the pain of the ages upon you. All you have hidden will come out and it could destroy not only you, but anyone near you. (Acheron)

What? Had a dry spell of killing people lately? (Susan) As a matter of fact, yes. If it doesn't end soon, I might get out of practice. (Otto)

Passion is the salt of life, and that at the times when we are under its spell this salt is indispensable to us, even if we have got along very well without it before.

Don't be intimidated by Caesar's Hollywood fake versions of religiosity. If life has a meaning for you beyond the TV-studio game, you are religious! Spell it out!

A sorceress indeed.

yes I understand your spells—your sex magic—at least, I know this: all lights dim when you walk in...

The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

Each time you call me home in a sweet refrain, Saying things will change, you'll take away the pain, Then we flashback to the first time you put your spell on me, You envelope me, you feel good as hell to me

A letter, Sir, cannot waft down your draw-bridges; the spirit of my affection breathed therein cannot disenchant her from the all-powerful spell of your authority. No. And you surely will not forbid an indulgence so endearing to us, while unimportant to yourself.

Men get opinions as boys learn to spell, By reiteration chiefly.

A dark-haired young woman in bright sunflower barrettes brushed by Matthew; undressing him with a look that he profoundly ignored, though he wouldn't have if he'd felt the fey iciness that a very particular, very exhausting sort of spell cloaked from both him and Kit.

The wand carried a spell that paralyzed the target in a kind of stasis, a forensic sorcerer's tool of arrest and self-defense. Sebastien had always presumed, with-he now understood-inadequate evidence-that it left the target insensible. He wished it so now.

I am a sorcerer, lad, not a cannibal.

Be silent now and do not tell your magic.

Are you reading?" I say. It's not that I don't think Finn can read or anything, but it's just - well, not what I expected to see. I figured Finn spent his time doing whatever it is guys who aren't Josh do when they aren't in school. Burping, or something. "Try not to look so surprised," Finn says. "I read. I can count to ten. Sometimes I can even spell my own name.

Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.