Deep Magic Quotes

Sometimes when deep magic is before you, it can be taken as something quite ordinary. Only when looking back does one question what had just taken place, and make note that it had been queer or unusual. The deeper a magic is, the more normal it can appear. ~ Gabriel Brunsdon

Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written. ~ C.S. Lewis

It means that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still that she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of Time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and darkness before Time began, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and death itself would work backwards. ~ C.S. Lewis

And so," continued the Witch, "that Human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my property."
"Come and take it then," said the Bull-with-the-man's-head in a great bellowing voice.
"Fool," said the Witch with a savage smile that was almost a snarl, "do you really think your master can rob me of my rights by mere force? He knows the Deep Magic better than that. He knows that unless I have blood as the Law says, all Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water."
"It is very true," said Aslan; "I do not deny it."
"Oh, Aslan!" whispered Susan in the Lion's ear. "Can't we--I mean, you won't, will you? Can't we do something about the Deep Magic? Isn't there something you can work against it?"
"Work against the Emperor's magic?" said Aslan, turning to her with something like a frown on his face. And nobody ever made that suggestion to him again. ~ C.S. Lewis

It means," said Aslan, "that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward. And now - ~ C.S. Lewis

When asking for advice, search not for what is on the surface, Dig deeper, questioning what does this person believe in? ~ J.R. Rim

Rider scooped Willow into his arms and carried her outside to the nearest tree, Miriam right behind him.
Awkwardly shifting his burden, he sat in the shade and settled Willow in his lap. "Mrs. Brigham, could you lend me a hand?" he asked anxiously. "I think we should loosen her clothing or something."
Rider propped Willow's limp form over one arm, giving Miriam access to the back of the girl's dress. As the corset came into view, he snorted in disgust. "Unlace that contraption, too. No wonder she fainted; she can't breathe."
Miriam looked aghast. "Oh, but I can't do that! It wouldn't be decent."
"She's wearing something under it, isn't she?"
"Well, yes, but--"
"Good God, I'll do it myself!" His free hand produced a small knife from his pants pocket. The blade flashed and before Miriam could stop him, the corset ribbons were severed.
Immediately, Willow inhaled deeply. Rider shifted her back into the bend of his arm and gently patted her cheeks. "Come on, little girl, open those big blue eyes."
Inhaling another deep breath, Willow gradually came around. She blinked at the leafy roof overhead, then focused a confused gaze on Rider's smiling face. "What happened? How did I get out here?" Glancing around, she impatiently brushed a few errant strands of hair from her eyes.
"Oh, my dear, you fainted," Miriam fussed.
"Fainted! I've never fainted in my life. I'm not the fainting kind."
"Maybe not under normal circumstances," Ride ~ Charlotte McPherren

There's a deep knowing beneath the epicenter of our anxious asking. Meet me there, & stillness will voice its soothing certainties with us. ~ Curtis Tyrone Jones

A piece of writing is like a piece of magic. You create something out of nothing. ~ Susanna Clarke

If everything in the universe evolves toward increasing disorder, it must have started out in an exquisitely ordered arrangement. This whole chain of logic, purporting to explain why you can't turn an omelet into an egg, apparently rests on a deep assumption about the very beginning of the universe. It was in a state of very low entropy, very high order. Why did our part of the universe pass though a period of such low entropy? ~ Sean Carroll

Mistaken belief that racial animus is necessary for the creation and maintenance of racialized systems of social control is the most important reason that we, as a nation, have remained in deep denial. ~ Michelle Alexander

Give me something to go on, here. What kind of black magic are we talking? Elphaba,Wicked Witch of the West-type stuff or Slytherin-type stuff? ~ Chloe Neill

Because it's magic, this place ... beautiful. And you're beautiful ... beautifully separate. It all fits. ~ Lucy Christopher

I'd just like to say," he said, "if we don't get out of this, that ... I'll have known, deep down inside, that there was a spark of goodness in you." "That's right," said Crowley bitterly. "Make my day." Aziraphale held out his hand. "Nice knowing you," he said. Crowley took it. "Here's to the next time," he said. "And ... Aziraphale?" "Yes." "Just remember I'll have known that, deep down inside, you were just enough of a bastard to be worth liking. ~ Terry Pratchett

One of Duke's very strict rules was to take his dick out any time a woman demanded it of him. He reached deep and put his favorite friend carefully on the fake wood.
She turned and cringed. "Jesus, dicks are so fucking ugly. Why you think putting your grandmother's jewelry on it will make it more fetching is beyond me."
Duke covered his dick's ears and snarled back at Dove, "You'll hurt his feelings. ~ Debra Anastasia

Often, when I am able to check out a book, I read it a dozen times before returning it, desperate to remain lost in the magic of someone else's story. ~ Amy Engel

The surviving human beings there could do nothing but wait for the end to come. They chose different ways to live out their final days. That was the plot.** It was a dark movie offering no hope of salvation. (Though, watching it, Aomame reconfirmed her belief that everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come.)
**
On the Beach, the 1959 movie, director: Stanley Kramer, writer: John Paxton, starring: Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner, Fred Astaire & Anthony Perkins. On the Beach, the 1957 novel, writer: Nevil Shute. ~ Haruki Murakami

When do you feel most loved? Are you willing to be loved today? Self-love is the magnet that attracts deep and profound expressions of love from others ~ Iyanla Vanzant

That natural disasters are required to provide Americans with a glimpse of reality in their own country is an indication of the deep rot infecting the official political culture. ~ Tariq Ali

I've always felt, in all my books, that there's a deep decency in the American people and a native intelligence
providing they have the facts, providing they have the information. ~ Studs Terkel

I think one's art goes as far and as deep as one's love goes. I see no reason for painting but that. If I have anything to offer, it is my emotional contact with the place where I live and the people I do. ~ Andrew Wyeth

perpetual inbox obsession wasn't an organizational expectation; rather, it was fueled by a deep insecurity that something important was going to happen and that he wouldn't respond in time to contribute meaningfully to the conversation. ~ Todd Henry

The last eight years have created a lot of deep-seated hostility. People take political decisions very personally, and today there is a constant, ongoing attack, with one side or the other being maligned. ~ Fred F. Fielding

The song she heard from the meadow was the same tune as the bird's call.She looked up in the trees.For a moment she thought she'd lost the bird, and she nearly cried out for him, but he fluttered down,landed right at her feet, and grew into a man."
"Oh." Meg sighed.She'd always liked that part.
"He whistled the tune once more, then the fey man said, 'My lady,will you dance?"
"'I will.' She crossed the bridge to the meadow,and danced with the whistler."
"Tell us they married," Meg said.
"The story doesn't go like that," Poppy reminded.
"It should." Meg stroked Tom's blood-clotted hair.
I fumbled with the charcoal in my blackened fingers. As the story went, the girl danced through the seasons, but when she wandered home at last and reached her cottage door, she was a shriveled-up old women, for a hundred years had passed while she danced with the whistler,and everyone she'd known in her former life had died.
Meg knew how it went.But when our eyes locked, I saw tonight she couldn't bear it. I found another bit of charcoal. "That very spring when the meadow was in bloom,the whistler, who had fey power to transform into a bird and sing any girl he wished to into the wood, chose the one girl who'd followed him so bravely and so far to be his wife. And she lived with him and the fey folk deep in Dragonswood in DunGarrow Castle, a place that blends into the mountainside and cannot be seen with human eyes unless the fairies will it so."
I d ~ Janet Lee Carey

Love is a spell created by mortals ~ Kami Garcia

Chapter Eleven

She did not spend long in the supermarket at Riverwalk, confining her purchases to supplies she would need for the next few days. There was beef for stew, a large pumpkin, a packet of beans, a dozen eggs, and two loaves of bread. The pumpkin looked delicious - almost perfectly round and deep yellow in colour, it sat on the passenger seat beside her so comfortably as she drove out of the car park, so pleased to be what it was, that she imagined conducting a conversation with it, telling it about the Orphan Farm and Mma Potokwane and her concerns over Mma Makutsi. And the pumpkin would remain silent, of course, but would somehow indicate that it knew what she was talking about, that there were similar issues in the world of pumpkins.

She smiled. There was no harm, she thought, in allowing your imagination to run away with you, as a child's will do, because the thoughts that came in that way could be a comfort, a relief in a world that could be both sad and serious. Why not imagine a talk with a pumpkin? Why not imagine going off for a drive with a friendly pumpkin, a companion who would not, after all, answer back; who would agree with everything you said, and would at the end of the day appear on your plate as a final gesture of friendship? Why not allow yourself a few minutes of imaginative silliness so that you could remember what it was like when you believed such things, when you were a child at the feet of your grandmother, listening t ~ Alexander McCall Smith

Truth is a painful sword. It cuts deep and stings, but the pain evaporates, the blood dries, and in the place of such savagery is a gleaming absolution and an absolute purity.
It's blinding.
It hurts.
And it is utterly beautiful.
You can't escape it.
Truth demanded a leap,
I took it. ~ Cat Porter

A book a week I heave a sigh;
That Slogan's peremptory cry
I will not hear, I will not heed.
How can They say that I should need
The book They bid me weekly buy?
But Slogans change, as days go by;
My Psyche listens, fluttering shy,
To newer message "Come and Read
A book a week."
To read! to read! O wings that fly
O'er sun-kissed lands, through clouded sky
That bear us on where Great ones lead!
I too must follow, so I plead
For magic wings. I'll read (or try)
A book a week! ~ Alexander Ireland

Desire doesn't want exposure, the light or the sun. Lust seeks darkness, a deep, secret heat, something buried, a treasure to find. ~ Selena Kitt

To become an Asetian is to die and be reborn. To forget all you have learned and learn all you have forgotten. ~ Luis Marques

I'm fanatical about movies: African, European, Viking, Roman. I got into witchcraft and magic from watching 'Bewitched' and 'The Wizard of Oz,' which shows in some of my outfits. I dress to reflect the whole spectrum of the universe. ~ Afrika Bambaataa

Technically, the dance worked best when done naked, but I didn't feel like prancing in the nude into Morrigan Hound's arms. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see me. ~ Ilona Andrews

The only reason you need me at all, John, is because Magick actually works. If it were all just smoke and mirrors and stage magic, if the world worked the way religion or science says it works, then we wouldn't have Vampyres in the first place. I'd be out of a job. ~ Abramelin Keldor

He existed in his own terms and I followed it without hesitation. ~ Pushpa Rana

There were dumplings on the train, sold by grim men and women with deep lines cut into their faces by years and worry and hunger and misery. This was the provinces, the outer territories, the mysterious China that had sent millions of girls and boys to Canton to earn their fortunes in the Pearl River Delta. Matthew knew all their strange accents, he spoke their strange Mandarin language, but he was Cantonese, and these were not his people.
Those were not his dumplings. ~ Cory Doctorow

An older witch once told me about this French saying – vous tombez bien."
"What does that mean?" Alec asked.
"You've fallen well. ~ Lisa Carlisle

Libraries are sanctuaries from the world and command centers onto it: here in the quiet rooms are the lives of Crazy Horse and Aung San Suu Kyi, the Hundred Years' War and the Opium Wars and the Dirty War, the ideas of Simone Weil and Lao-Tzu, information on building your sailboat or dissolving your marriage, fictional worlds and books to equip the reader to reenter the real world. They are, ideally, places where nothing happens and where everything that has happened is stored up to be remembered and relived, the place where the world is folded up into boxes of paper. Every book is a door that opens onto another world, which might be the magic that all those children's books were alluding to, and a library is a Milky Way of worlds. ~ Rebecca Solnit

I'm not worried about tomorrow. I'm worried about right now, with you, under this Christmas tree." Blake supported her neck as he laid her on the floor.
Livia turned her head. "You'd better convince me. So far you've talked about the dog going to the bathroom, trash, and dirtiness."
Blake kissed her jaw and turned her head gently, kissing her mouth as she bit her lips together.
"Can't I just convince you with my manly ways?" He wiggled his eyebrows.
He could, of course, do just that - but she shook her head. She loved the playful sparkle in his green eyes. His five o'clock shadow just made him more handsome, framing his kissable lips with scruff.
"Okay." He put his fingers at the bottom of her shirt, lifting it gently so he could circle her belly button with his index finger. "You're the sexiest, most beautiful woman on this planet. So sexy, in fact, that I had to have you. I had to make you bear my children because my universe and yours had to be combined. Everything I've ever been needed to be buried inside of you, so deep, so full of love that we created life. Twice."
He lifted her shirt and kissed the tops of her breasts, whispering his devotion into her skin. "And it's never enough. Unless I can hear you coming, I can't think of anything else. All day every day. For years now. You're that powerful, Livia. This. Us. It's so intense that years haven't cured me. I can't stop wanting to make love to you."
"Wow." Livia smiled and pulled ~ Debra Anastasia

Composition is a process of combination, in which thought puts together complementary truths, and talent fuses into harmony the most contrary qualities of style. So that there is no composition without effort, without pain even, as in all bringing forth. The reward is the giving birth to something living
something, that is to say, which, by a kind of magic, makes a living unity out of such opposed attributes as orderliness and spontaneity, thought and imagination, solidity and charm. ~ Henri Frederic Amiel

Guru Arjun tells us that the truth we seek is within ourselves, and I agree. The answers to many of our greatest desires, needs, and longings are inside. We only need to know how to retrieve them. The most powerful vehicle for retrieving our longed for answers is applied intelligence, which is the combination of information and experience. Applied intelligence brings true wisdom because it includes experience, usually on a deep level. ~ Dharma Singh Khalsa

How could I have missed it? Easy. Deep in grief over Casey leaving, I'd gone on automatic pilot this morning, barely glancing in the mirror as I brushed my hair, smoothed on my makeup. I clamp down on the impulse to dig out a mirror and check out the 'mark. ~ Magda Alexander

I'll tell you what," she said, prepared to make a deal. "Let's see how your 'diplomacy' would profit us. If you can give me a decent solution to a pretend situation, I'll agree to have you accompany me instead of Shanks. Although, I don't know how wise it is to leave a Viidun captain on the Kemeniroc in your absence."

Derian agreed to the test. "Okay, what's your question?"

She thought hard for a moment; her eyes scrunching in concentration, lips pulled down to one side. Then, as a crooked grin spread across her lips, she set up an imagined scenario.

"Pretend we're down on the planet with this King Wennergren when he graciously offers to walk us through his cherished garden. While we're there he begs me to touch his favorite, award-winning flower, hoping my powers will make it thrive and blossom. But for some strange reason it doesn't respond to me the way plants do on our world. Instead of thriving, the flower withers and dies right before his shocked and furious eyes. Now pretend he's easily offended and has a horrible temper…"

Derian cut it. "You have no idea what his temperament is like."

"I know. That's not the point." Her eyes scolded him for interrupting. "Just pretend that he becomes outraged by my actions, assuming that I purposefully destroyed his prized plant. The angry king orders both of us to be seized and thrown into his deep, dark, inescapable dungeon. But, somehow we manage to dodge his line of soldiers a ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

We are not really surprised that God has redeemed us. Somewhere
deep inside, in the secret chambers of our hearts, we harbor the notion that God owes us His mercy. Heaven would not be quite the same if we were excluded from it. We know that we are sinners, but we are surely not as bad as we could be. There are enough redeeming features to our personalities that if God is really just, He will include us in salvation. What amazes us is justice, not Brice. ~ R.C. Sproul

The people who are most discouraged and made despondent by the barbarity and stupidity of human behaviour at this time are those who think highly of Homo Sapiens as a product of evolution, and who still cling to an optimistic belief in the civilizing influence of progress and enlightenment. To them, the appalling outbursts of bestial ferocity in the Totalitarian States, and the obstinate selfishness and stupid greed of Capitalist Society, are not merely shocking and alarming. For them, these things are the utter negation of everything in which they have believed. It is as though the bottom had dropped out of their universe. The whole thing looks like a denial of all reason, and they feel as if they and the world had gone mad together.

Now for the Christian, this is not so. He is as deeply shocked and grieved as anybody else, but he is not astonished. He has never thought very highly of human nature left to itself. He has been accustomed to the idea that there is a deep interior dislocation in the very centre of human personality, and that you can never, as they say, 'make people good by Act of Parliament', just because laws are man-made and therefore partake of the imperfect and self-contradictory nature of man. Humanly speaking, it is not true at all that 'truly to know the good is to do the good'; it is far truer to say with St. Paul that 'the evil that I would not, that I do'; so that the mere increase of knowledge is of very little help in the struggle to outl ~ Dorothy L. Sayers

Margaret Fuller Slack I WOULD have been as great as George Eliot But for an untoward fate. For look at the photograph of me made by Penniwit, Chin resting on hand, and deep - set eyes - Gray, too, and far-searching. But there was the old, old problem: Should it be celibacy, matrimony or unchastity? Then John Slack, the rich druggist, wooed me, Luring me with the promise of leisure for my novel, And I married him, giving birth to eight children, And had no time to write. It was all over with me, anyway, When I ran the needle in my hand While washing the baby's things, And died from lock - jaw, an ironical death. Hear me, ambitious souls, Sex is the curse of life. ~ Edgar Lee Masters

This person was standing under Lavery's portrait of Lady Walpole-Wilson, painted at the time of her marriage, in a white dress and blue sash, a picture he was examining with the air of one trying to fill in the seconds before introductions begin to take place, rather than on account of a deep interest in art. ~ Anthony Powell