magic

You may think the thing dangling between a guy's legs is his most sensitive part, but it's not. It's his precious ego. Never forget that, Allie.

Eugenie looked great, her short spiky auburn hair edged with conservative blond tips and her face wearing a minimum of makeup. Must be Mr. Natural__ influence. I gave her a hug and turned to meet Quince, who was sitting across from her.Okay, I could see the attraction. He had thick, honey-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail not unlike my own, and a green gemstone stud in one ear. He reached out a grasped my hand, shaking it firmly. __t__ great to meet you. Eugenie talks about you all the time.___he talks a lot about you too, Quince._ The man had no idea.He smiled and his blue-green eyes were almost enthralling. __ost people call me Rand, but Eugenie likes my real name better than my nickname.__fter a half hour of small talk, I wasn__ sure I liked Quince Randolph. He was drop-dead gorgeous, no question about that. But there was something off about him I couldn__ quite pinpoint. He stared too hard when he talked to you, made my eye contact than a normal person. I tried to dig into his head a little but came up blank, which was weird, except I__ done a heavy grounding ritual this morning.__ou know, I just noticed something._ Eugenie had a funny look on her face. __ou guys have the same hair and eye colo. I__ never realized it till I saw you sitting there across from each other.___aybe we__e very distantly related._ Rand smiled.__ doubt it,_ I said, frowning. __ don__ have much family. And if we were related, I__ be pissed off that you have better cheekbones.

Keeping up with him would require running, and there is no dignity in running after any man for any reason, injured or not.

Strong hands slipped over her shoulders as Alex joined us, standing so close, I could feel his body heat radiating up my back_.He squeezed my shoulders a little hard for it to be a show of solidarity. I__ probably have bruises. He was marking his territory.

Now that he was teaching Quentin could see why the faculty didn't bother trying to improve the climate. It kept people amazingly focused. _ You could actually watch as the determination to seize the moment and live life to the fullest ebbed right out of them, and they resigned themselves to lonely, silent, indoor study instead.

This girl is magic. She's wild incantations. She's that spark that lit me back to life and I'm burning for her.

He__ violent and unpredictable. He hit you once-hard. Oh, sure he saved your life later but it was in his beat interests. Plus, you have absolutely no common sense where he is concerned, and we won__ even mention the dead thing.

its odd to be a writer, you hear someone's experience and you stash it away in some tiny part of your memory and you go on your way again, only to find; in a few lived through chapters of your story a piece of their puzzle became your pathway to hope and you create words from it, like your mind creates some kind of magic. 'Yeah, it's odd being a writer.

I'll tell you something," said Francis,urgent with shoe lace, "if we keep on saying things weren't when we know perfectly well they were, we shall soon dish up any sort of chance of magic we may ever have had. When do you find people in books going on like that? They just say 'This is magic!' and behave as if it was. They don't go pretending they're not sure. Why, no magic would stand it."Book: Wet Magic, Chapter 2

I am not interested in wishing hard and having the Universe provide all I need without any work on my part.

My fingers slipped into his thick, black hair and held tightly. He paused, not wanting to pull away. I didn__ let him. I was going to say goodbye properly. I held tightly, pressing my lips to his, soft at first then hard with desire.

It wasn__ that she believed in voodoo, precisely__ut she believed in the people who believed in voodoo__nd that was scary enough. -Coralee Ayers

logic is tragic, because it has no magic!

I think cinema, movies, and magic have always been closely associated. The very earliest people who made film were magicians.

It is the illusion of magic and the magic of illusion that we are primarily interested in- not the privy tricks or the key to the secrets themselves. We seek the bafflement, the contradictions, the amusements, and the innumerable emotions that ripple uneasily through the audience. It is not knowledge we are after, but mystery and disguises. We want to gaze at the impossible. We are hungry for surprises, astonishment. In short, we are looking for a true story, but one impossible to explain in all its complexity. When we discover that story, we shall have found- magic.

Magic is the fifth fundamental force and is even more mysterious than gravity, which is really saying something.

The trail through the pines and beech trees was bright red. He was surprised the other human couldn__ see it. She was walking slowly, not far from him. He could smell the moisture on her hot skin. She hadn__ noticed his presence yet. She stopped in her tracks and he moved silently behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks. She turned and he saw her face.Oh no not her_he thought before turning and bolting back the way he came.

A weathered black and silver Dodge pickup towing a small motorboat pulled up behind us, and Alex circled back to greet the driver. I couldn__ see who sat behind the crusted and dirty windshield, but Alex stood at the driver__ window and pointed down the block where the boulevard disappeared into floodwater. The truck pulled ahead, maneuvered a deft U-turn, and backed toward the water. Alex motioned for me to follow. By the time I lurched my way to the truck, he and the pickup driver were sliding the boat down the trailer ramp. Sweat trickled down my neck, and if I hadn__ been afraid of being poisoned by toxic sludge, I__ have made like a pig and wallowed in the mud to cool off. I kicked at a fire hydrant, trying to jolt some of the heaviest sludge off my boots, and heard a soft laugh behind me. With a final kick that sent a spray of brown gunk flying, I turned to see what was so funny. I needed a laugh. A man leaned against the side of the pickup with his arms crossed. He was a few inches shorter than Alex, maybe just shy of six feet, with sun-streaked blond hair that reached his collar and a sleeveless blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. His tanned legs between the bottom of the shorts and the top of sturdy black shrimp boots were scored with scars, bad ones, as if whatever made them meant to do serious damage. He__ been grinning when I turned around, flashing a heart-stopping set of dimples, but when he saw my eyes linger on his legs, the grin eased into something more wary.