Quotes About Magic

Like wine, Provençal magic had its own distinctive terroir. It was rich and chaotic and romantic. It was a night-magic, confabulated out of moons and silver, wine and blood, knights and fairies, wind and rivers and forests. It concerned itself with good and evil but also with the vast intermediate realm in between, the realm of mischief.

Nothing made you feel more like a fucking sorcerer than aviating under your own power. Yippee ki-yay, motherfuckers.

For the true magician there is no very clear line between what lies inside the mind and what lies outside it.If you desire something, it will become substance. If you despise it, you will see it destroyed. A master magician is not much different from a child or a madman in that respect. It takes a very clear head and a very strong will to operate once you are in that place. And you will find out very quickly whether or not you have that clarity and that strength.

That was magic for you, right? The thing about magic, the real kind: it didn't make excuses, and it was never funny.

The others were conspicuously silent, or talked among themselves, elaborately play-acting that they were unaware of the fact that Quentin was conversing with a drunk magic bear.

Quentin did a magic trick. Nobody noticed. They picked their way along the cold, uneven sidewalk together: James, Julia, and Quentin. James and Julia held hands. That's how things were now. The sidewalk wasn't quite wide enough, so Quentin trailed after them, like a sulky child. He would rather have been alone with Julia, or just alone period, but you couldn't have everything. Or at least the available evidence pointed overwhelmingly to that conclusion.

Magic: it was what happened when the mind met the world, and the mind won for a change. There

It would be like Prospero's island, but in a good way: not a country of exile, a model world, safe and peaceful and private. A magician's land.

He was finally on the other side, down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass. He was going to sign the papers and he was going to be a motherfucking magician.

The study of magic is not a science, it is not an art, and it is not a religion. Magic is a craft. When we do magic, we do not wish and we do not pray. We rely upon our will and our knowledge and our skill to make a specific change to the world.

Well, look, I was angry. I don't think I commit a lot of gratuitous violence, but this was war, and he was a jerk, and I made a mess of him. I threw him through a couple of doors, and he cried like a fucking baby. You know what they used to write on cannons? The last argument of kings . I guess you could say magic is the last argument of queens.

Your magician self, that loopy doppelgänger, was always with you, tugging at your sleeve, whispering silently that your real life was a fake life, a crude and undignified and inauthentic charade that nobody was really buying anyway.

Now he knew his way around a ward-and-shield or two. He could chuck a magic missile with the best of them. He was a damn one-man magic-missile crisis.

Bzzt!" Eliot pressed an imaginary game-show button on the arm of the chair. "The answer I was looking for was, 'She's not my girlfriend, she's a crazy magic rage-demon.

Most of the students, and probably the faculty, were ambivalent about the whole idea of Disciplines. They were socially divisive, the theory behind them was weak, and everybody ended up studying pretty much the same curriculum anyway, so what was the point? But it was traditional for every student to have one, so a Discipline every student would have. Alice called it her magic bat mitzvah.

But I'm sorry, where did you think you were, motherfucker? Connecticut? You're in a magic safe house in Bed-Stuy, borough of Brooklyn. There was a considerable Venn diagram overlap between people who lived in Bed-Stuy and people who had motherfucking guns. Fool.

Nothing happened, then broke Poppys hand the smoth surface like the Lady in the lake, except thst the hand, instead of holding a magical sword, in this case only did a big, entusiastic thumb up-sign

That's how you roll when you're a secret teenage magician

Loosening his tie with one hand, Quentin stepped out into the cold clear winter air and flew.

The Deeper Magic always seemed to come up when Ember didn't feel like doing something, or needed to close a plot hole.

You need to do more than memorize, Quentin. You must learn the principles of magic with more than your head. You must learn them with your bones, with your blood, your liver, your heart, your deek." He grabbed his crotch through his dressing gown and gave it a shake.

With the caveat that it is much more difficult and much more dangerous and much more interesting to be a magician than it is to be a carpenter.

Labyrinths were old sorcery, and subtle: good for recharging one's magical resources when they were running low.

He was going to sign the papers and he was going to be a motherfucking magician.