Quotes About Magic

What a thing of fantasy a woman may become after dusk.

Ah! Comme une existence peut devenir orageuse entre les quatre murs d'une mansarde! L'ame umaine est une fée, elle métamorphose une paille en diamants; sous sa bageutte les palais anchantés éclosent comme les fleurs des champs sous les chauds inspirations du soleil.

Moartea vine pe neasteptate, iar viata e fragila si scurta. Nimeni nu poate sa schimbe asta, nici prin rugaciuni, nici prin vraji.

We sit and listen and are enthralled anew, for good stories, it seems, never lose their magic.

Don't you feel something magical when you're in love?... I do, I certainly do ... but I think that feeling of magic is a hardwired psychological response. It's a chemical thing in the brain. It's a flow of chemicals and electrical currents, and it developed over millions of years in the process of evolution to aid in the procreation of the species.

Unwinter did not wind his Horn or glance back. He did not lift an armored hand to summon his knights. He did not command them to follow. And yet. The whisper became a rustle, the rustle deepened to a throbbing, the throbbing swelled into a roar. The highborn fullbloods of Unwinter, pale and wasted, sallied forth clasped in their own black armor, riding by two and three on the nightmare mounts enticed from the Dreaming Sea's foaming edge.

Dryads gathered in knots, hushed, and for once satyrs did not chase them but stood solitary sentinel, horned heads upflung and broad nostrils quivering. Kelpies and selkies hesitated, between horseform and biped shape, their wicked teeth gleaming as they snorted and stamped; among them, night-mares or elfhorses along the shores of the Dreaming Sea—which touches all shores, always—tossed their manes but did not neigh.

You learn to have a high weirdness tolerance as a witch.

Tristan. The killspell is meant for him. Protect him, just as he would protect you.

He said it aloud, in a great ringing voice. Yuth-Kaathak ngom'm! Ygar naa Ithorthak! Sh'ayaa Ubb nagarr'nya Ib! Ib-nya gryalak!

A full-length suit of fantastic armor, made of the blue metal called nthium, stood in one corner. When the Illusionist addressed it the metal creature creaked into life and motion. "Hail, master!" boomed a hoarse voice from within the empty helm.

Tal vez había cambiado de verdad. Y tal vez, si ella se ponía unas zapatillas rojas y entrechocaba los talones, aparecía en Kansas.

All the world is happy when Santa Claus comes.

No wizard has ever made himself useful by magic, or, if they've tried, they've only made matters worse. No wizard ever stopped a war or mended a fence. It's better that they stay in their marshes, out of the way of worldly folk like farmers and soldiers and merchants and kings.

Beauty and its allowance to be selective is a magic reserved for young women, not old girls.

The fey wonders of the world only exist while there are those with the sight to see them.

Magic lies in between things, between the day and the night, between yellow and blue, between any two things.

All my life I've wanted to be the kid who gets to cross over into the magical kingdom.

The trouble with magic is that there's too much it just can't fix. When things go wrong, glimpsing junkyard faerie and crows that can turn into girls and back again doesn't help much. The useful magic's never at hand. The three wishes and the genies in bottles, seven-league boots, invisible cloaks and all. They stay in the stories, while out here in the wide world we have to muddle through as best we can on our own.

When you're touched by magic, nothing's ever quite the same again. What really makes me sad is all those people who never have the chance to know that touch. They're too busy, or they just don't hold with make-believe, so they shut the door without really knowing it was there to be opened in the first place.

That's the thing with magic. You've got to know it's still here, all around us, or it just stays invisible for you.

Like legend and myth, magic fades when it is unused.

I'd say that any character or setting can be given a bit of an otherworldly sheen and be the better for it. The one thing I insist on with my own writing is that I won't let magic solve my characters' real world problems. The solutions have to come from the characters themselves.

A name can't begin to encompass the sum of all her parts. But that's the magic of names, isn't it? That the complex, contradictory individuals we are can be called up complete and whole in another mind through the simple sorcery of a name.