Quotes About Magic

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

And suddenly you know... It's time to start something new and trust the magic of new beginnings.

Desserts are the fairy tales of dining — a happily-ever-after to supper.

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.

Now and again some anxious, troubled soul fears that fairy tales will harm the children. Children need fairy tales because they are the purest product of the highest kind of imagination. The lovely thing about them is exactly that they are so far removed from the actual world and so close to that better, fairer one where children dwell.

This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal... His goal attracts him, because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal... This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. Nothing is effected by daemons, there are no daemons. Everyone can perform magic, everyone can reach his goals, if he is able to think, if he is able to wait, if he is able to fast.

plum blossoms in the moonlit glow of a late February calm cool night — magical soul-stirring springtime sight

Every day, spread the magical stardust of thankfulness into your life.

...the fairy dust of poetry and glittery hope of dreams...

Sensation invested itself in form and color and radiance, and what his imagination dared, it objectified in some sublimated and magic way. Past, present, and future mingled; and he went on oscillating across the broad, warm world, through

My talismans are not obviously useless.

My clever baton holds your unnatural sorcery in abeyance.

Turjan closed the book, forcing the spell back into oblivion. He robed himself with a short blue cape, tucked a blade into his belt, fitted the amulet holding Laccodel's Rune to his wrist. Then he sat down and from a journal chose the spells he would take with him. What dangers he might meet he could not know, so he selected three spells of general application: the Excellent Prismatic Spray, Phandaal's Mantle of Stealth, and the Spell of the Slow Hour.

Shimrod gave the boy a copper penny. 'Bring me now a goblet of good tawny wine.' By a sleight of magic Shimrod augmented the acuity of his hearing, so that the whispers of two young lovers in a far corner were now clearly audible, as were the innkeeper's instructions to Fonsel in regard to the watering of Shimrod's wine.

Mazirian made a selection from his books and with great effort forced five spells upon his brain: Phandaal's Gyrator, Felojun's Second Hypnotic Spell, The Excellent Prismatic Spray, The Charm of Untiring Nourishment, and the Spell of the Omnipotent Sphere. This accomplished, Mazirian drank wine and retired to his couch.

Mazirian shook off the spell, if such it were, and uttered a spell of his own, and all the valley was lit by streaming darts of fire, lashing in from all directions to spit Thrang's blundering body in a thousand places. This was the Excellent Prismatic Spray — many-colored stabbing lines. Thrang was dead almost at once, purple blood flowing from countless holes where the radiant rain had pierced him.

The archveult Xexamedes, digging gentian roots in Were Wood, became warm with exertion. He doffed his cloak and returned to work, but the glint of blue scales was noticed by Herark the Harbinger and the diabolist Shrue. Approaching by stealth they leapt forth to confront the creature. Then, flinging a pair of nooses about the supple neck, they held him where he could do no mischief.

Madouc considered. 'I would like a wand to do transformations, a cap of invisibility, swift slippers to walk the air, a purse of boundless wealth, a talisman to compel the love of all, a mirror—' 'Stop!' cried Twisk. 'Your needs are excessive!

Rosehips and crab apples, They are my fruit. Rabbit foot, snakeskin And eye of newt, Duck's beak and antler Ground up for a spell. I am the witch's child But I wish you well.