magic

Just like when you're young and in love, a seven-hour plane ride can seem like a lifetime.

Inside Ms. Maddox's classroom, it was so quiet you could hear the breathing bounce off the walls.

I was lost in a magical mystic world as I step into the old university library. This place I would say is the birth place of the __riter_ in me and still one of my most loved places in the world. It was always peaceful there. Each and every moment I spent their searching for books or walking on unknown paths with the un-quenching thirst for knowledge, is cherished in my mind forever. The dark dusty corners all brown and the smell of old books untouched by readers for years, the quiet long walking passages between overloaded bookshelves were places where my magical world existed.

No fairy godmother had ever spent time helping a poor and humble milk maid who was destined to die even poorer and humbler.

Once a month, ripe with psychic energy, the moon grows to Her zenith. Blazing full with the sun's rays through the night sky, it is with great compassion and love for her children that she luminesces.

Is the prospect of magic any more outrageous than a dragon train?

I always hated it when TV reporters stuck a microphone in the faces of people who'd just lost a home or a loved one, wanting to know how they felt. They felt like shit. They hurt, and they didn't know how they were going to get through the night. They wanted to scream and cry and hit the guy with the microphone.

I haven't believed in magic because I don't believe in anything that I haven't seen with my own eyes. Therefore, I must go to Paelsia as soon as I can and learn the truth for myself

Unicorns aren't magical and beautiful. They're just predatory horses that have horns and love to eat virgins.

Fall in lovewith the energyof the morningstrace your fingers along the lullof the afternoonstake the spirit of the eveningsin your armskiss it deeply and thenmake loveto the tranquilityof the nights.

The Victorian era was perhaps the last point in Western history when magic and science were allowed to coexist.

If there was any magic in this world that was not magic, it was wine.

I thought you guys could detect witches." Jonathan muttered as soon as he got over his shock at seeing two people materialise in front of him. The wiccan sat on the floor, his shoulder being strapped with a makeshift bandage, by the ever-practical Ian."We detect magic, not witches." Hunter clarified. "We can't feel anything out of the ordinary, unless they start casting.""Oh fantastic!" Jonathan groaned. "I'll remember that excuse later.

Whatever form it might take, enjoy the magic! Remember, Disneyland is all about you.

Grimm always used rabbits, on account of a grudge he had with the Easter Bunny. I__ had a pet rabbit when I was little, and the first time I saw an augury I think I managed to throw up and faint at the same time. After that, Grimm had it done without me. Not that it mattered. After six years in this business, I__ gut Thumper himself for an ounce of Glitter.

She shook her head. "I can't believe you got bit and you didn't even get an orgasm out of it. I guess True Blood isn't true after all.

He sat beside her. "What sort of things did you dream of?""Oh, what most young girls do, I imagine. Fey tales. True love." She gave a small, self-conscious laugh. "You.

It is entirely conceivable that life's splendour forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from our view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come. This is the essence of magic, which does not create but summonsFranz Kafka, 18 October 1921Es ist sehr gut denkbar, dass die Herrlichkeit des Lebes um jeden und immer in ihrer ganzen Fülle bereitliegt, aber verhängt, in der Tiefe, unsichtbar, sehr weit. Aber sie liegt dort, nicht feindselig, nicht widerwillig, nicht taub. Ruft man sie mit dem richtigen Wort, beim richtigen Namen, dann kommt sie. Das ist das Wesen der Zauberei, die nicht schafft, sondern ruft.Kafkas Tagebücher,18 Oktober 1921