Quotes About Magic

Taký brak odmietam písa?! Vrátim sa a poviem mu, aby si ve?mi rýchlo urobil magickú cesnakovú omeletu, inak mu prehryznem kr?nú tepnu" - tá predstava ma tak vyviedla z miery, že som iba dodala: "A potom... potom pôjdem domov alebo ?o..

Non sei una ragazza qualunque, Gwendolyn" bisbigliò, mentre mi accarezzava i capelli. "Sei straordinaria. Non hai bisogno della magia del corvo per essere speciale per me." Il suo viso si avvicinò ancora di più. Quando le sua labbra toccarono la mia bocca, chiusi gli occhi. Okay. A questo punto potevo svenire.

What I'm doing is art - it's low-brow art but there's a magic in that.

In short, I had always believed that the world involved magic: now I thought that perhaps it involved a magician. And this pointed a profound emotion always present and sub-conscious; that this world of ours has some purpose; and if there is a purpose, there is a person. I had always felt life first as a story: and if there is a story there is a story-teller.

As we turn from the galaxies to the swarming cells of our own being, which toil for something, some entity beyond their grasp, let us remember man, the self-fabricator who came across an ice age to look into the mirrors and magic of science. Surely he did not come to see himself or his wild visage only. He came because he is at heart a listener and a searcher for some transcendent realm beyond himself.

magic is indistinguishable from sufficiently advanced technology.

Brockton, if you use magic to open bags of potato chips, you don't really count as a normal human anymore." "That's only because I spent so much time working in a convenience store. Do you know how many bags of chips I opened for kids and old ladies? More than a man should have to open in his life, that's for sure.

Oh for the sweet humpin' love of Tink! ~ Jenks

A witch, a vampire, and a pixy walk into a bar, I thought as I led the way into the Squirrel's End. It was early, and the sun had yet to set when the door swung shut behind Jenks, sealing us in the warm air smelling faintly of smoke. Immediately Nick yanked it open to come in behind us. And there's the punch line.

By Tink's diaphram...!

What would it have been like to live back then, when stories colored the world and even the sky listened?

The Mozart sonata Dad picked out begins to play. When we hear the first note, we open the sacks and the ladybugs escape through the opening, taking flight. It's as if someone has dumped rubies from heaven. Soon they will land on the plants in search of bollworm eggs. But right now they are magic-red ribbons flying over our heads, weaving against the pink sky, dancing up there with Mozart.

Resurrection is a magic trick of the soul unfolded by hands of the Universe.

All recipes are spells and all cooks are witches.

Only when her magic began to return did she realize just how much she'd given away.

believing in the magic of life, the power of hope, the cosmic sanity of chance and change, and the unmistakable power of love.

I rather fancy the story of Laurelyn the Moondreamer and how she built a castle of silver moonbeams, don't you? Silver-mind it was called.

There is something magical about running; after a certain distance, it transcends the body. Then a bit further, it transcends the mind. A bit further yet, and what you have before you, laid bare, is the soul.

It was the Magic Hour, the moment in time when every leaf and blade of grass seemed to separate, when sunlight, burnished by the rain and softened by the coming night, gave the world an impossibly beautiful glow.

Giulia was a mistress of the art of making philters...she knew herbs and the power of talismans; she could even bring about the death of anyone she chose by uttering terrible incantations.

Therefore the scientific quest for knowledge is not nourished by certainty, it is nourished by a radical lack of certainty. Its way is fluid, capable of continuous evolution, has immense strength and a subtle magic. It is able to overthrow the order of things and reconceive the world time and again.

I stepped into the bookshop and breathed in that perfume of paper and magic that strangely no one had ever thought of bottling.

Eight: the age of exploration, of ghosts and secret forays; the age at which a mystery lurks behind every curtain and every armoire opens into a magical world, which you may enter at any time, but who knows when you will return.

The waning crescent Moon and her Goddess rose in the inky midnight sky.. ?