Quotes About Magic

I like to maintain a certain sense of fantasy in my life.

They developed a platform for me to put up another 12 years, and that was my ticket to Cooperstown. Those were the best years of my life. It was like magic.

Life is magical and I guess my thing is I wish that people wanted that magic.

I think people are interested in anything that's a little bigger than life and that's colorful and - you know, what they like? They like fairy tales for grownups.

Our snow was not only shaken from whitewash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely white-ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunderstorm of white, torn Christmas cards.

My tears are like the quiet drift Of petals from some magic rose; And all my grief flows from the rift Of unremembered skies and snows.

There's only a fellow sawing a woman in half this week.' 'Keep a half for me.

A necromancer is one whose magic art makes the dead speak. An archaeologist is one whose spade uncovers forgotten centuries. Sometimes the distinction between the two becomes dismayingly thin.

Go on, strike, said the witch, smiling. Fire is beautiful. Nothing bad will happen.

And yet, there was a witch. There is always a witch.

It's the moonlight. Makes all the girls look pretty.

Nuestro beso convierte el mundo en polvo

The spell was simple and I'd said half of it before she even figured out that it was a spell. Since you like bubbles so, In a bubble you must go. In that bubble you will stay Till your bubbles go away. Sound can't pass from inside out Even if you scream or shout. If you want to be set free, End your spell, that's the key

That horrid little witch Emma sent us here with her magic. Here, what's this?

She stopped and leant her elbows against the parapet of the embankment. He did likewise. There is at times a magic in identity of position; it is one of the things that have suggested to us eternal comradeship.

Then she turned westward, to gaze at the swirling gold. Just where the river rounded the hill the sun caught it. Fairyland must lie above the bend, and its precious liquid was pouring towards them past Charles's bathing shed.

The melody rose, unprofitably magical. It broke; it was resumed broken, not marching once from the cradle to the grave. The sadness of the incomplete—the sadness that is often Life, but should never be Art—throbbed in its disjected phrases, and made the nerves of the audience throb. Not thus had she played on the little draped piano at the Bertolini, and "Too much Schumann" was not the remark that Mr. Beebe had passed to himself when she returned.

But this place has wonderful powers." "What do you mean?" "I don't know." "Because I probably agree with you." "It kills what is dreadful and makes what is beautiful live.

There is at times a magic in identity of position; it is one of the things that have suggested to us eternal comradeship.

But the poetry of that kiss, the wonder of it, the magic that there was in life for hours after it—who can describe that?

Shandril stood, furious and heartsick, and lashed out with spellfire. "Wherever I go! Always beset, always friends and companions hurt! You seek spellfire? Well, then—have it!

Tluin," he whispered, into the gloom around him. "Naed, hrast, and farruking tluin.

Names have power. This is the fundamental principle of magic everywhere. Call out the name of a supernatural being, and you will have its instant and undivided attention in the same way that your lost toddler will have yours the second it calls your name.

As I drove away, I felt deeply comforted knowing that magical things were still living in the world.