c2p-cmd/Good-Quotes-Authors huggingface dataset:
Sometimes the most remarkable things seem commonplace. I mean, when you think about it, jet travel is pretty freaking remarkable. You get in a plane, it defies the gravity of an entire planet by exploiting a loophole with air pressure, and it flies across distances that would take months or years to cross by any means of travel that has been significant for more than a century or three. You hurtle above the earth at enough speed to kill you instantly should you bump into something, and you can only breathe because someone built you a really good tin can that has seams tight enough to hold in a decent amount of air. Hundreds of millions of man-hours of work and struggle and research, blood, sweat, tears, and lives have gone into the history of air travel, and it has totally revolutionized the face of our planet and societies.But get on any flight in the country, and I absolutely promise you that you will find someone who, in the face of all that incredible achievement, will be willing to complain about the drinks.The drinks, people.That was me on the staircase to Chicago-Over-Chicago. Yes, I was standing on nothing but congealed starlight. Yes, I was walking up through a savage storm, the wind threatening to tear me off and throw me into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan far below. Yes, I was using a legendary and enchanted means of travel to transcend the border between one dimension and the next, and on my way to an epic struggle between ancient and elemental forces.But all I could think to say, between panting breaths, was, 'Yeah. Sure. They couldn’t possibly have made this an escalator.
— Jim Butcher, Summer Knight
Conner raised an eyebrow. 'Who told you 
— Chris Colfer
I want them to see the magic of how everything is related: To walk out into the night and see the Green Corn Moon levitate across the sky.
— Autumn Morning Star
I’m a moon junky. Every time I look at the moon I feel less alone and less afraid. I tell my boys that moonlight is a magic blanket and the stars above are campfires set by friendly aliens.
— Amy Poehler
Forthwith I crush this acid lemonFreeing myself of the malefic venomHither I let thee rottenLet my curse be forgotten.
— Camilla Isley, I Wish for You
Magic is neither good nor evil. It merely is.
— R.A. Salvatore, The Last Threshold
I think there is an element of magic in photography — light, chemistry, precious metals — a certain alchemy. You can wield a camera like a magic wand almost. Murmur the right words and you can conjure up proof of a dream. I believe in wonder. I look for it in my life every day; I find it in the most ordinary things.
— Keith Carter
We must stop seeing our anointed men and women of God as Seers, magic workers, Herbalist and native doctors.
— Sunday Adelaja
What it leads to is the mischief of confusing liturgy with magic -- of imagining there are only a handful of properly effective formulas for conjuring up the mystery, when in fact the mystery is always at work, independent of any formula whatsoever.
— Robert Farrar Capon
If honor were reserved only for those who never err, none of us would be worthy," Rain answered.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
Perhaps in the stillness of a summer night they will feel compelled to walk barefoot down a moonlit country road and search for the magic that connects all beings in the Circle of Life.
— Autumn Morning Star
Magic isn’t something that can be explained: it simply is. It takes while it gives. So” – the spinner steps closer, his outstretched hand demanding – “I have given you magic, and now it must be paid.
— Tabi Card, Spinner
Here is the most valuable thing in the whole of Moomin Valley, Groke! Do you know what has grown out of this hat? Raspberry juice and fruit trees, and the most beautiful little self-propelling clouds: the only Hobgoblin's Hat in the world!
— Tove Jansson, Finn Family Moomintroll
Magic is something that surrounds you all the time! Always be happy no matter what happens!
— Lars Andersson
When the Magician waves his magic wand to help you… rest assured he does it because you deserve it.
— Sameh Elsayed
When twelve who wander stand as oneThrough the door the dark will come.The key will be revealed in turn—Unlock the way and you shall learn...
— Galen Beckett, The Magicians and Mrs. Quent
I don't want you to go." She reached up to touch his face and pull him down to her. "I want this, Rain. I want you.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
Challenges not only help form a person, but allow them to experience deeper levels of themselves. Nicole lived through being abandoned by her parents only to recently come to terms with the fact that she does not want them or need them anymore, Bran lost his father to a war and suffered an injury that would have left many bitter, but for his mother's sake has done his best to remain brave and positive through it all….. Aiden, Nicole and Bran have all already faced challenges that have helped them learn who they really are and what really matters to them. They know their personal truths and that gives them the strength they need to find their connection." –Morgana le Fey/ Morgana Cornwall
— J.M.  Briggs, The Iron Realm
Ellysetta Baristani." Belliard's voice caused her to stop and turn back around. "Even should you clothe yourself in rags and dirt, you would bring honor to the Fey.
— C.L. Wilson, Lord of the Fading Lands
Trust in the fictive process, in the occult interweaving of text and event must be unwavering and absolute. This is the magic place, the mad place at the spark gap between word and world.
— Alan Moore, Voice of the Fire
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
— Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka: 1914-1923
...if it feels like a true magic might be possible
—  it is truly a Blue Moon experience....
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.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
For a while, my self-control and my power of reason quailed to uselessness.
— Kaoru Kurimoto, The Battle of Nospherus
It was Jaenelle's voice, but...She was medium height, slender, and fair-skinned. Her gold mane--not quite hair and not quite fur--was brushed up and back from her exotic face and didn't hide the delicately pointed ears. In the center of her forehead was a tiny, spiral horn. A narrow strip of gold fur traced her spine, ending in a small gold and white fawn tail that flicked over her bare buttocks. The legs were human and shapely, but changed below the calf. Instead of feet, she had dainty horse's hooves. Her human hands had sheathed claws like a cat's. As she shifted position to slip another shard into place, he saw the small, round breasts, the feminine curve of waist and hips, the dark-gold triangle of hair between her legs.Who...?But he knew. Even before she walked over and looked at him, even before he saw the feral intelligence in those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes, he knew. Terrifying and beautiful. Human and Other. Gentle and violent. Innocent and wise.*I am Witch,* she said, a small, defiant quiver in her voice.*I know.* His voice had a seductive throb in it, a hunger he couldn't control or mask.
— Anne Bishop
When he caught his breath, he regarded her with glowing, half-closed eyes. "If I'm very, very good, shei'tani, will you do that again when we're alone?
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
Aren’t faeries supposed to be, like, really tiny? With wings and a wand and faerie dust?”“I’m not Tinker Bell!
— Rachel Morgan
I'm convinced Midnight Gulch can't be the only magical town in the world. I bet there's a snicker of magic on every street, in every old building, every broken heart, every word of a story. Maybe it's hidden away and you need to look harder for it. Or maybe the magic is right there, right in front of you, and all you have to do is believe.
— Natalie Lloyd
His hand trailed down the side of her face, brushing back spiraling tendrils of hair. "Come, shei'tani, dance the skiles with your mate.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
As soon as he stood in front of her, she folded her arms and looked cross.	"You don't have any gardening skills. You turned down a prestigious job to weed the garden?	"I will be rewarded richly in treasures untold."	She raised a brow.	"I've heard dragon-shifters pay a lot of money to merchants and the like.	"Aaagh, but you are also a dragon-shifter of a sort. 	Yes, but I am a gardener, which means I don't go on high-risk missions to earn my gold.
— Terry Spear, Phantom Fae
Will you return to your home if Prince Grotto's reign is ended?"	"Yes. It is home."	"Will you take me back as your gardener?
— Terry Spear, Phantom Fae
Ena," Brett said.	"Lady Ena, Ryker corrected from the doorway.	Brett smiled. He couldn't imagine her wanted to be called anything but Ena, but he would call her anything that pleased her.	The sharp look she gave her butler made Brett think calling her Lady Ena was out.	Ryker, being his usual unflappable self, just looked at her as if he was in charge and she would go by her new title or else.
— Terry Spear, Phantom Fae
Great! I hope different police officers are here this time." 	"Might be, but we're in the same police jurisdiction. I'm certain from the last time you were here, they probably have a record about you. What was it you said? You were playing some game re-enactment the last time you were injured?"	"Yes. How did your brother come up the idea of a paint-ball game? That's a good one."	"He's played them here before. He would like to bring the game back to our world, but we fight for real.
— Terry Spear, Phantom Fae
If this be magic, let it be an art lawful as eating.
— William Shakespeare
He can surround a sword with flames." 	Freya sounded proud of him. That irritated Ena. He was her prisoner and only she had the right to feel proud of him as far as she was concerned.
— Terry Spear, Phantom Fae
Teach him something useful, will you?"	Elorian shook his head. "It is like housebreaking a puppy. There are bound to be lots of accidents and lots of cleanups." 	Frustrated beyond measure with the whole situation, her missing staff, an out-of control mage, a frozen mage, and a cursed phantom fae turned raven, Ena couldn't believe the mess they were in.
— Terry Spear, Phantom Fae
Oh, Ellie, you look beautiful. Like a Fey-tale princess.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
She glanced down and gasped, and her arms slapped into place to cover all her most interesting bits. He grinned. The robe and gown were sheer and he had not spun undergarments.She scowled. "This is not what I would call being 'very, very good.'""That is a matter of perspective, shei'tani. From where I'm standing, it looks very, very good indeed.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
If I get in the water in this outfit, the cloth will turn completely transparent.""I know, and I'm looking forward to it more than you can imagine.
— C.L. Wilson, Lady of Light and Shadows
You will never win anyone through pity. You must create the right kind of dream, the sober, adult kind of magic: illusion born from disillusion.
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
Stupid girl. You will never win anyone through pity. You must create the right kind of dream, the sober, adult kind of magic: illusion born from disillusion.
— Sylvia Plath
Would you like me to magically strip you and put you in gear?” Mr. Fell asked. “In front of everybody?”“That would be a thrill for everybody, I’m sure,” said Matthew. Ragnor Fell wiggled his fingers, and green sparks spat from his fingertips. James was pleased to see Matthew actually take a step back. “Might be too thrilling for a Wednesday,” Matthew said. “I’ll go put on my gear then, shall I?”“Do,” said Ragnor.
— Cassandra Clare, Nothing but Shadows
It's better to be the hero of your own story than to become the villain of someone else's.
— Chris Colfer
Even the smallest magics can grow.
— Cassie Beasley, Circus Mirandus
A good motto in life, he'd reckoned, was: don't eat anything that glows.
— Terry Pratchett, The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents
I view magic as simply the realization of unrecognized potential.
— Daniel   Thompson, The Great Apocalypse
For Magic to happen in our lives, we need to be open minded about magical things happening
— Steven Aitchison
Love is a magical shelter where you will feel yourself safe beneath it!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
I don't want to move out of bed."	"I don't want to move out of bed either. Let's live here.
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
For ya, love, I will be anything ya want... even a potato.
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
Would it make you feel better if I had a panic attack?" Jane sat on the couch and suppressed a small yawn. "I mean, it's almost four in the morning and a little early for a panic attack, but I can try to muster up the energy to fake one.
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
The sun is shining - the sun is shining. That is the Magic. The flower are growing - the roots are stirring. That is the Magic. Being alive is the Magic - being strong is the Magic. The Magic is in me - the Magic is in me. It is in me - it is in me. In every one of us.
— Frances Hodgson Burnett
Ya smell like honey," he said.	"I'm allergic to bees," she whispered.	"I'll do my best not to sting ya, love.
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
He took her hand from her head and held it in his. "Your beauty could make a rose blush."	"Are you... drunk?
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
Is he all right?" Jane asked.	"Oh, sure, probably losing a fight against a squirrel," Angus said.	"Or his shadow...
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
So, the MacGregors."	"Yeah." Jane nodded with a long sigh. "The MacGregors."	"I don't get what the big deal is with them," Charlotte said.	"If you saw under their kilts, you would get what the big deal---" Annabelle tried to break in.
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
Angus skidded to a stop and lifted his jaw as if sensing he was being watched. He looked in her direction and instantly covered his manhood as his eyes caught Jane's shocked face in the tree limbs. "Oh, lassie."	"Oh, naked man," Jane teased before she could stop herself.
— Michelle M. Pillow, Spellbound
We know what wood is and what earth and stone are and that they have a color and texture, a smell and even a taste, but matter as a perceptible material substance independent of the nature of the wood, earth and stone composed of it seems incomprehensible. In order for us to regard a thing as real it must possess at least some distinctive physical qualities. We must be able to experience it as a physical thing before we can decide it is real. Matter as proposed by modern science, however, has no distinctive or definite physical qualities at all. Matter is simply some unimaginable stuff possessing no conceivable definition whatsoever. The concept of matter, then, proves to be just as elusive and abstract as the concepts of spirit, soul or the life-principle.
— Ojo Blacke, Dr. Monroe A. Dunlop's Paranormal Studies Lecture Series, Mind and Reality: A Psychedelic Trip to the Doormat of the Unknown: Fictional Nonfiction, Fifth Edition
No, the magic doesn't wear off at midnight. It's much more powerful than that. It comes from you. You wanted something, and so it came to be.
— Emily Croy Barker, The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic
How?’ a still shaken Nechtan demanded.Britha had always hated to give magic as an answer. More often than not, another answer could be found.‘Magic,’ she said.
— Gavin G. Smith, The Age of Scorpio
The world of “magick” is, nine times out of ten, a world where people can hide their deep-set insecurity and personal damage behind illusion, constructed identities and claims to privileged knowledge, power or spiritual status. A gaudy carnival magic show, conducted with props that have long since begun to disintegrate with age, that seems to function only to distract people from the real magic that is occurring all around them, in every facet of their lives, every day of their lives. While the rituals and magical techniques of the Temple seem overly simplistic in comparison with the loftier Qabalahs, tables of correspondences and secret formulae of “high” magick, they have one thing which high magick quite often forgets: a concrete function.
— Jason Louv, Thee Psychick Bible: Thee Apocryphal Scriptures ov Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Thee Third Mind ov Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth
[W]hen you try too hard to hold on to something, you break it. Sometimes, we need to let go so that other people can have their chance at the magic.
— Cassie Beasley
All Librarians are Secret Masters of Severe Magic. Goes with the territory.
— Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two
I believe in magic. Writing is my magic wand, and through my magic I create my own secret world, away from all these worries and responsibilities. Love, honesty and humanity is essential to enter this beautiful world of magic. I dwell among White magical peacocks, glowing unicorns, fire breathing turquoise dragons, talking trees, flying horses, talking wise jackals and wolves, crystal water falls, secret pathways hidden in urban gardens and books with doorways to secret worlds. You need to believe in magic to experience it.
— Ama H. Vanniarachchy
I’m related to one. Can you believe that? It was bad enough thinking I was paranoid, going crazy or maybe just cursed, but to find out Gods are real and that I’m related to one… life sucks lemons and I’ve run out of tequila and salt.
— Jane Cousins, To Date A Disaster
Do you believe in magic?," she asked. "I believe in you," he said. "And you're the closest thing to magic that I've found.
— J.M. Green
She scrambled to her feet, uncaring that a stray knee and elbow had Erik wincing. “How can you be groaning about a simple knee to the groin when you’ve just been battered by flying furniture, candelabras and hit on the head by a pot plant that must weigh a ton or more?”“I’ll have you know there is nothing simple about my groin…” He shot her his predatory grin, the one he often reserved for her breasts. Run little girl, run far and run fast… take those tempting curves, enticing kissable lips and award winning breasts with you.
— Jane Cousins, To Date A Disaster
No, her I brought back because..." Niko lifted his chin toward the moon. "She's magical.""I get that, if by 'magical' you mean 'hot.'""I also mean magical.
— Molly Ringle, Underworld's Daughter
The magic of love is available to us all; we have to learn how to align ourselves so we can connect to its source, doing so will allow magic an opening to manifest in our lives
— Micheline Jean Louis
Jade blinked. It was only for a fraction of a second but she could have sworn the the house had changed shape.
— Richard J. Ward, The Hermit and the Time Machine
You must create the right kind of dream, the sober, adult kind of magic: illusion born from disillusion.
— Sylvia Plath
She knew him as much as the knowing of her own heart’s secret: she was destined for the forest.
— Lori J. Fitzgerald, Love Lies Bleeding
Ah! That glance of yours did some magic on me, you were not aware of. For once I died and was reborn.
— Ramana Pemmaraju
You can't lie in a magical forest! It will ruin all the magic!
— Michael Delaware, Blue and the Magical Forest: The Power of Hopes and Dreams
When Rhiannon was small and had just learned to read, her mother brought her into the hall one day when her father was on campaign, and led her to the large table upon which a great map of their lands lay. She instructed Rhiannon to read the words of the landmarks: castle, road, mountain, forest, village. The young girl touched words inscribed over a place where trees met craggy peaks. “What does that say, my love?” her mother prompted. “Here be dragons,” Rhiannon answered, glancing up at her mother. Her mother nodded, smiling. She knelt down in front of Rhiannon so they were at the same height. The lady’s hazel eyes sparkled as she whispered, “I have a secret to share. But I can only share it with a little girl with red and gold hair,” she pulled playfully on Rhiannon’s braid,” who knows how to read.” Rhiannon giggled. “Are you a little girl such as this?” Rhiannon nodded eagerly, and her mother laughed. She stood up and gestured at a tapestry on the wall. “Come, child, the dragon guards our treasure.” Hand in hand they walked to the tapestry of the sleeping dragon. “Your great-great grandmother wove this tapestry when she was an old woman. It took her a long time to complete, with her hands gnarled so, like the twisted oak by the drawbridge.” The dragon was curled up in front of a turret, with stone dolmens in a semi-circle behind it, interspersed with trees and a mountain peak in the background and bright blue sky above. The dragon’s scales were crimson and woven through with glittering gold thread, and its curved horns and talons were gold. As they paused in front of the large tapestry, Rhiannon looked closely at the eyes of the dragon; she thought perhaps she could see a slit of gold, as if the dragon were only pretending to be asleep.  Rhiannon’s mother stood on tiptoe and moved part of the tapestry to the side, revealing a slit in the stone wall. With her free hand she reached in and drew out a large leather-bound tome. She motioned her daughter to come sit with her on one of the benches that lined the walls. “Look and listen well, my daughter,” she said, and ran her fingers along the smooth cover, “this book is our special treasure, and it contains many secrets within its pages. I am going to teach you how to read them.” She opened the book as Rhiannon snuggled closer to her, her mother’s loose red-gold hair falling over the girl’s shoulder and brushing the crinkly parchment pages of the book which she turned until she came to the picture of a girl.
— Lori J. Fitzgerald, The Dragon's Message
The land around Ankh-Morpork is fertile and largely given over to the cabbage fields that help to give the city its distinctive odor.The gray light of pre-dawn unrolled over the blue-green expanse, and around a couple of farmers who were making an early start on the spinach harvest.They looked up, not at a sound, but at a travelling point of silence where sound ought to have been.It was a man and a woman and something like a size five man in a size twelve fur coat, all in a chariot that flickered as it moved. It bowled along the road toward Holy Wood and was soon out of sight. A minute or two later it was followed by a wheelchair. Its axle glowed red-hot. It was full of people screaming at one another. One of them was turning a handle on a box.It was so overburdened that wizards occasionally fell off and ran along after it, shouting, until they had a chance to jump on again and start screaming.Whoever was attempting to steer was not succeeding, and it weaved back and forth across the road and eventually hurtled off it completely and through the side of a barn.One of the farmers nudged the other."Oi've seen this on the clicks," he said. "It's always the same. They crash into a barn and they allus comes out the other side covered in squawking chickens."His companion leaned reflectively on his hoe."It'd be a sight worth seeing that," he said."Sure would.""'Cos all there is in there, boy, is twenty ton of cabbage."There was a crash, and the chair erupted from the barn in a shower of chickens and headed madly toward the road.The farmers looked at one another."Well, dang me," said one of them.
— Terry Pratchett
If you want to see and feel magic first hand, read a book to your kid before bedtime. —Richard Due
— Richard Due
A few years back, they jacked David Copperfield in West Palm Beach, for Chrissake. Yes, it's funny: "Yo, empty your pockets," and he pulls out a bunny rabbit. But it's also depressing. If someone who can make himself disappear isn't safe, who is?
— Colin Quinn, The Coloring Book: A Comedian Solves Race Relations in America
So Blue sat down on the path and faced Grayson, and told him all about his world. He told him about the humans, his mother and sister, and how they went away. He told him about the long nights alone in the kennel, and the sadness that seemed to come from other dogs. All the while Grayson stared at him with his wide yellow eyes. He seemed amazed, and even sometimes frightened, as Blue recounted all the details.Finally, when he was finished telling his story, Grayson said 'You come from a scary world, Blue. A very scary and sad world indeed. It's so different from the magical forest where no one is ever alone, and no one is ever sad. ..
— Michael Delaware, Blue and the Magical Forest: The Power of Hopes and Dreams
For magic to exist, it must be shared. Always remember to pass along your kindness to others... A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.
— Michael Delaware, Blue and the Magical Forest: The Power of Hopes and Dreams
I’m in mid-passage, darling,” he said, beginning to talk like a queen so as to demystify himself, so as to destroy the very qualities John Schaeffer had fallen in love with, “I’m menopausal, change of life, hot flashes, you know. Wondering how much longer I can go without hair transplants and whether Germaine Monteil really works on the crow’s feet. I’ve had it, I’ve been through the mill, I’m a jaded queen. But you, dear, you have that gift whose loss the rest of life is just a funeral for—why else do you suppose those gray-haired gentlemen,” he said, nodding at his friends on the floor, “make money, buy houses, take trips around the world? Why else do they dwindle into a little circle of close friends, a farm upstate, and become in the end mere businessmen, shop-owners, decorators who like their homes filled with flowers and their friends flying in on Air France and someone pretty like you at the dinner table? It is all, my dear, because they are no longer young. Because they no longer live in that magic world that is yours for ten more years. Adolescence in America ends at thirty.
— Andrew Holleran, Dancer from the Dance
I was not being mean. Mean was her mother giving her the name Bernice Woodward.Ryals, R.K.. Cursed (The Thorne Trilogy Book 1) (Kindle Locations 66-67). . Kindle Edition.
— R.K. Ryals, Cursed
There was something in the moonlight tonight. It was stroking the stonework and spires, leaning into cracks between the cobblestones, caressing the stained-glass windows. She felt her heart lift with magic.
— Jaclyn Moriarty, The Cracks in the Kingdom
Sheer male interest filled his gaze which was entirely focused on her. She'd never before felt so female, so utterly desirable, so wanton.
— Jo Grafford, Viking For Hire
Such is my curse, Branwyn O'Tyre. Every woman I touch is forced to lavish her affections upon me.
— Jo Grafford, Viking For Hire
This is beautiful." Eugenie ran her fingers along a massive mahogany sideboard, on the top of which rested a red velvet sash with fine embroidery on it and, on top of the sash, a silver dagger. That little vignette was Jean Lafitte in a nutshell. Refined gentleman and renegade. Velvet and violence.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
Lord help her, but she was instantly drawn to his scent - a mixture of smoke and salt and mystery - as well as his strength. The pulse of his heart, the hum of blood through his veins, the aura of power and danger surrounding him.
— Jo Grafford, Viking For Hire
Rosy ferried the drinks back to the table, slid the Guinness his way. “You said you have a show. Is it a comedy?”“No, but you will laugh, I hope, after hearing my qualifications.” His eyes glittered. “I do magic, with a twist. The twist is, my clothes are the first thing to disappear.”Rosy gaped.“Yes. I do magic… naked. I not only have a big ego.” Marek wiggled his middle finger. “I have a big wand.
— R.G. Manse, Screw Friendship
My heart might very well beat itself from my chest," she whispered, "and 'tis difficult to breathe.""How odd." Passion thickened his voice. "I seem to be suffering the same symptoms. Does anything else plague you?""A terrible weakness," she whispered shakily. "If you let me go, I am not entirely certain I shall be able to stand."He buried his face in her neck. "Then I shall never let you go.
— Jo Grafford, Viking For Hire
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.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
Certain voices heardare heardnot becausethey are phonetic...But,from one soulthey head,to another,in the form of magic.(Poem: When, When a not, Book: Ginger and Honey)
— Jasleen Kaur Gumber, Ginger and Honey
Since when do wizards wear robes?" I whispered. "That's falling into every human stereotype ever created." Jeezum. Next thing you knew, they'd be waving around magic wands."The First Elder thought they'd look more intimidating in robes than in business suits," Alex whispered back. "They look like they're on their way to a costume party at Hogwarts.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
When I see you, Jolie, I see a woman who is far more than she realizes but who will someday grow into her powers. One who is much stronger than those who would trap her inside their cages or try to put her to harness. One with a bold intelligence, with whom I can laugh. One who surprises me."He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was so soft I had to strain to hear. "I see a woman who makes me feel alive again, like a man, and not like a wraith who has lived beyond his usefulness in a world that no longer needs him.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
Then I shall tell you the truthful answers to the questions you asked, about my own intentions and motivations. They are not so simple."...He cocked an eyebrow and his cobalt eyes took on a playful sparkle."If I were to avow that you are my immortal life's great passion, that I would give up immortality itself to be at your side and in your bed, you would not believe me, n'est-ce pas?
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
I didn't dare put down the staff with Etienne popping in and out like a half-burned, bloodsucking whack-a-mole.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
He pulled out handcuffs and snapped them around my wrists. "Where's your bag? You didn't bring your staff?""I have it. It's hidden." Charlie was currently tucked inside the leg of my Harry Potter pajama bottoms, which were beneath my jeans, but that fell under the category of TMI.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
The greatest magic of life is that all things in life can be changed!
— Mehmet Murat ildan
We walked the length of Jackson Square, stopping to look at the work of a couple of artists who'd set up their sidewalk shops for the day."Look." Eugenie stopped in front of an acrylic painting of a mustached man with curly dark hair, hooded eyes, and a big hooked nose. He looked like he'd steal the hubcaps off your grandmother's Cadillac."It's Jean Lafitte, our most famous pirate," the artist said. "He was quite a character."She had no idea. She also had badly missed the mark on his looks. His hair wasn't that curly, he'd been clean-shaven the whole time I'd known him, his nose was straight and in perfect proportion to the rest of his features, and he didn't have hooded black eyes. Still, he might find it entertaining. "How much?" I asked.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
Alex leaned over and treated me to a Rhett Butler kiss, slow and deep but not too sweet. He once told Scarlett something to the effect of how badly she needed kissing, and by someone who knew what he was doing. Alex knew what he was doing. By the time he finished proving it, I was breathless. I rested my head on his shoulder, basking in his warmth and filling my lungs with his scent. "What was that for?""That was to show you how glad I am that we got out of that mess in one piece and that we're here together." He extracted his arm from around my shoulders and sat back. "Now let's talk about your crazy stunt."Damn it, Rhett did that, too. He'd kiss Scarlett silly, then lecture her.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.
— Sanober  Khan, A Thousand Flamingos
it's often been said, she's easy on the eye but the moment she shows you a slice of her personality, you'll feel for the first time, something of magic is walking on this earth.
— Nikki Rowe
What was a book? Not just ink and fiber and stitchery: a series of processes. To a wizard, it was not a static object--but a human thought caught and bound, made concrete through sacred technology. Magic, then, and a deep form of it.
— Elizabeth Bear, Shattered Pillars
The Earth created magic to protect the magic that is the Earth.
— Sarah Warden
If I am going to be a monster, the least I could do is be well fed!
— Cristina M. Sburlea, 19/21
Two things never mix: one is enchantments and the other is meddling with them.
— Lloyd Alexander, Taran Wanderer
I thought that you would be frozen in awe when you found the sequence, when you heard a bird's song repeating my Morse code, my cry for help, my S.O.S, when you saw the same numbers in the petals of a flower and the structure of a pine cone, when you saw with your own eyes the interconnectedness of all things.But I was wrong.You searched for a male god, a creator, an intelligent designer, or you banished the beauty and mystery of the world beneath the cold concrete grave of closed-eye skepticism. The few of you who could still hear my music felt tortured and misunderstood; you reached out for any conspiracy theory large enough to explain your alienated despair, your sense that the Earth was dying and no one cared.But listen to me -- you are not alone. Run your fingers through the grass and grab it in your fists, feel my pulse echoing through your blood. You. Are. Not. Alone. And I -- I am not dead yet.
— Sarah Warden, Blood of Earth
Magic will find those with pure heats, even when all seems lost. And love is the greatest magic of all. I know this to be true.
— Morgan Rhodes
Be the woman who is remembered for living life to its fullest!
— Erin Fall Haskell
Because, between ‘reality’ on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there’s a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic.
— Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch
He’s 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’t even mention the dead thing.
— Suzanne  Johnson, River Road
DJ, are you awake? Freaking elf. “Go home, Rand.” I am home. Where are you? I frowned and burrowed my face into the soft down pillow. Which wasn’t my pillow. Holy crap. What had happened? I sat up and took in several observations at once, none of which made sense and all of which sent my heart rate jack-rabbiting hard enough to send my blood pressure into the ozone. First, I was lying beneath a heavy bedspread woven in a rich blue-and-cream print. The bed was an elaborate confection made to look like an antique half-tester, and a brass chandelier hung overhead. I recognized the Hotel Monteleone. I recognized Jean Lafitte’s bedroom in the posh Eudora Welty Suite in the Monteleone. I didn’t have a clue as to how I got here. Second, I wore only underwear. My clothes were thrown across a chair in the corner. I had no recollection of removing them. Third, the pillow next to mine still held the clear indentation of a head, and there was water running behind the closed bathroom door. What in God’s name had I done? Rand! Where are you? So help me, if that elf was behind this, I’d splay him open like a catfish and watch his guts fall on the floor. Then I’d batter and deep-fry him. God, Dru. Stop shrieking like an elven shrew. I think you got too cold and went into a survival state.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
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’s 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. “It’s great to meet you. Eugenie talks about you all the time.”“She talks a lot about you too, Quince.” The man had no idea.He smiled and his blue-green eyes were almost enthralling. “Most people call me Rand, but Eugenie likes my real name better than my nickname.”After a half hour of small talk, I wasn’t sure I liked Quince Randolph. He was drop-dead gorgeous, no question about that. But there was something off about him I couldn’t 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’d done a heavy grounding ritual this morning.“You know, I just noticed something.” Eugenie had a funny look on her face. “You guys have the same hair and eye colo. I’d never realized it till I saw you sitting there across from each other.”“Maybe we’re very distantly related.” Rand smiled.“I doubt it,” I said, frowning. “I don’t have much family. And if we were related, I’d be pissed off that you have better cheekbones.
— Suzanne  Johnson, River Road
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’d probably have bruises. He was marking his territory.
— Suzanne  Johnson, River Road
Magic is the fifth fundamental force and is even more mysterious than gravity, which is really saying something.
— Jasper Fforde
I talked to Zrakovi this afternoon,” Alex said, giving me an undecipherable look. “He’s putting me back on sentinel duty for the next few weeks while you handle a special assignment.”Special assignment had an ominous ring to it. “What kind of special assignment? And why am I hearing it from you instead of Zrakovi?” Elder Z was my boss, not Alex, however Mr. Bossy liked to think otherwise.“You’re going to be babysitting Jean Lafitte and making sure he doesn’t try to take revenge on anyone for what happened last month.” At my horrified, speechless gape, Alex gave me a grim smile and held his glass of port up in salute as my dessert congealed into a lump in my stomach. “Good luck with that, Jolie.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Pirate's Alley
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’t see who sat behind the crusted and dirty windshield, but Alex stood at the driver’s 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’t been afraid of being poisoned by toxic sludge, I’d 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’d 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.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Royal Street
I grabbed a shard of glass and spun around, brandishing it in front of me. It was a pretty, stippled blue piece, nice and sharp.“Hold on, tiger. I give up.”A bear of a man stood in front of me, hands raised in mock surrender— well, except for the shotgun in his right hand. He towered well over six feet and was shaped like a linebacker, one who’d gone a little too long between haircuts. Dark curls hugged the collar of a basic black T-shirt that almost camouflaged a black shoulder holster holding some type of nasty-looking black handgun. It all matched his black jeans and boots. He looked like the poster child for an upscale GQ mercenary. The only shred of color on him was his eyes, and they were dark brown. Mr. Monochromatic.He laid the shotgun on the table near the door and stepped back, hands up, watching me from beneath hooded lids. A lesser woman would have noticed the thick muscles moving under his tanned skin when he raised his arms, or the T-shirt that fit just snugly enough to send a girl’s thoughts to the Promised Land. Good thing I don’t notice stuff like that.“If you want to search me for more weapons, I’m game.”My eyes shot back to his, and I felt my cheeks flush, hot and bothered on the way to angry. Leave it to a guy to open his mouth and ruin a perfectly good moment.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Royal Street
I’d pulled my unruly blond hair out of its usual ponytail for the occasion, loaded on some makeup to play up my teal eyes, and poured myself into a little black skirt, short enough to show off my legs while not offending Lafitte’s nineteenth-century sensibilities. It must have worked, because the pirate was giving me that head-to-toe appraisal guys do on instinct, like they’re assessing a juicy slab of beef and deciding whether they want it rare, medium, or well-done. “You really are lovely, Drusilla.” The timbre of Lafitte’s voice shivered down my spine, and I fought the urge to check out the biceps underneath that linen shirt. Holy crap. This was just wrong. I should not be absorbing his lust.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Royal Street
Cleery said, "We'll pass it on, Knobs. There'll still be magic in the world.
— Mary Calhoun
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.
— K.S. Marsden, The Shadow Reigns
The sun set, which is everyday magic...
— Terry Pratchett
Never interrupt a faerie circle ceremony. And, if a faerie has appeared to you, visually, do not speak to it until it has spoken to you. These two transgressions are considered so rude, that the faeries may literally attack you, on the spot.
— Alexei Maxim Russell, The New Homeowner's Guide to House Spirits
Never invite any kind of spirit to enter either your home or your person. This is an extremely important point to remember. To do so always risks to unwittingly invite evil spirits in, instead. Good spirits never need to be invited in.
— Alexei Maxim Russell, The New Homeowner's Guide to House Spirits
Science is a way of talking about the universe in words that bind it to a common reality.Magic is a method of talking to the universe in words that it cannot ignore.The two are rarely compatible.
— Neil Gaiman, The Books of Magic
Keeping up with him would require running, and there is no dignity in running after any man for any reason, injured or not.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Elysian Fields
Jean Laffite was a sexy bad boy with a gentleman's manners and an air of barely suppressed danger. Every girl's secret dreamboat in other words. We always say we want a nice, hardworking, decent guy but we're lying to ourselves. - DJ Jaco
— Suzanne  Johnson, River Road
They call it music, but it's just this side of magic.
— Harold Jones
Unicorns aren't magical and beautiful. They're just predatory horses that have horns and love to eat virgins.
— Delilah S. Dawson, Wicked as She Wants
The fight wasn’t over,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’d have won it.”  Probably. “Right,” he said. “And something just flew past your window. It was oinking.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Elysian Fields
- '' That's nonsense young one,  Your dreams are not very logical '' - '' The only non-sense I see here,  is a living a life; blinded, By all that could have taken your breath away.
— Nikki Rowe
Nothing Is Strange
— Mike Russell, Nothing Is Strange
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.
— Lev Grossman, The Magician's Land
An iron? Was he kidding? God
— Suzanne  Johnson, Royal Street
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
— Morgan Rhodes
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.
— Suzanne  Johnson, Elysian Fields
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.
— Nikki Rowe
If you hold back for fear of making a mistake you will never accomplish what you must.And with each challenge you will become stronger.
— Kate Constable the Tenth Power
And that, Pavel, is why you shouldn't use magic for every tiny little thing. Where you can put your trust in science, that's what you should do.
— Sergei Lukyanenko, Новый Дозор
The audience knows the truth, the world is simple. It's miserable, solid all the way through. But if you could fool them, even for a second, then you can make them wonder, and then you got to see something really special.
— Christopher Nolan
For an instant Stile was daunted by the improbability of it all: a man, a cyborg, a robot, an animalhead, and a wooden golem, all riding unicorns through a battlefield strewn with goblins and dragons, pursuing an invaluable ball of power-rock that rolled along a channel cleared by plastic explosive. What a mishmash!
— Piers Anthony, Juxtaposition
art is when you listen the universe, magic is when the universe listens to you.
— Nonymos
Saturday, September 17, 2005: Today in New Orleans, a traffic light worked. Someone watered flowers. And anyone with the means to get online could have heard Dr. Joy’s voice wafting in the dry wind, a sound of grace, comfort and familiarity here in the saddest and loneliest place in the world.”Chris Rose, The Times-Picayune
— Suzanne  Johnson, Elysian Fields
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.
— Sanober  Khan
your gazeacrossmy cheeksturned theminto strawberry fields.
— Sanober  Khan
I do believe something magical can happen when you read a good book
— J.K. Rowling