#magi

When I used to do musical theatre, my dad refused to come backstage. He never wanted to see the props up close or the sets up close. He didn't want to see the magic. ↗

— Nia Vardalos

#close #come #dad #i #magic

There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds. ↗

— Gilbert K. Chesterton

#architecture #castle #clouds #rules

I've never been in love, but I've always imagined it--weirdly--like some sort of OxiClean commercial. The TV host shows a scene from an ordinary day, and then takes a big old sponge soaked in love and swipes away the stains. Suddenly that same scene is missing all the mistakes, all the loneliness. The colors are like jewels, ten times richer than they were before. The music is louder and clearer. "Love," the host will say, "makes life a little brighter. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#imagination

I know it is something of a cliche to say that love makes all things possible, but I believe it does. It is not a magic wand that can be waved over life to make it all sweet and lovely and trouble free, but it can give the energy to fight the odds and win. ↗

— Mary Balogh

#love #magic #wand #life

If you don't beleve in yourself, who will?' ~Maybeck ↗

— Ridley Pearson

#disney #friendship #humor #magic #teen-fiction

The man who cannot visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot. ↗

— André Breton

#imagination #art

Magnus raised his hands above his head and clapped once. The room flooded with light. "You see? You think that would be possible without magic? "Actually," replied Simon, "It is. If you watched infomercials you'd know that. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#magic #magnus-bane #funny

Kate's Speciality: Killing things, with much bloodshed. Talking trash, infuriating authority. Driving Beast Lord crazy. ↗

— Ilona Andrews

#ilona-andrews-website #kate-daniels #magic-bleeds #funny

Cleansing and clearing are two words which suit the essence of Imbolc, as this is February, the Roman month of purification. This can be a cleansing of the self, in undertaking a good ‘detox’, or a clearing and cleansing of the home, in keeping with the tradition of spring-cleaning. ↗

— Carole Carlton

#carole-carlton #imbolc #irish-celts #lughnasadh #moon-magic

At home I walked through a haze of belongings that knew, at least vaguely, who they belonged to. Grampar’s chair resented anyone else sitting on it as much as he did himself. Gramma’s shirts and jumpers adjusted themselves to hide her missing breast. My mother’s shoes positively vibrated with consciousness. Our toys looked out for us. There was a potato knife in the kitchen that Gramma couldn’t use. It was an ordinary enough brown-handled thing, but she’d cut herself with it once, and ever after it wanted more of her blood. If I rummaged through the kitchen drawer, I could feel it brooding. After she died, that faded. Then there were the coffee spoons, rarely used, tiny, a wedding present. They were made of silver, and they knew themselves superior to everything else and special. None of these things did anything. The coffee spoons didn’t stir the coffee without being held or anything. They didn’t have conversations with the sugar tongs about who was the most cherished. I suppose what they really did was physiological. They confirmed the past, they connected everything, they were threads in a tapestry. ↗

— Jo Walton

#home