Magic Sandra’s seen a leprechaun, Eddie touched a troll, Laurie danced with witches once, Charlie found some goblins gold. Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf, But all the magic I have known I've had to make myself.
When she listened to songs that she loved on the radio, something stirred inside her. A liquid ache spread under her skin, and she walked out of the world like a witch.
Staring at a world too horrible to comprehend, believing -- by dint of ignorance and innocence -- that beneath this unbearable contract of guilt and blame there is always an older contract that may bind and release in a more salutary way.
One never knows how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her — is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? It is the very least question of definitions.
Your life is your own magnum opus in the crafting. It will not be perfected overnight.
Most people live their lives laying prostrate before a false god, waiting for a cue to rise. There are no cues, only decisions. Shall I have dessert? Shall I have the best of the wine? Shall I love the person next to me? They can all be brought to your table. Rise, I say, rise and look within to the truth, to the light, and tell it your decision.
Yeah, cause that would be a smart choice. So, I should just forget about the whole lying to me thing when you pronounce you will never do it again?” “Yes.” “You’d have a better chance getting a donkey to shit gold.
Lips to lips, mouth to mouth, Comes the speaker of the shrouds, Suck in the spirit, speak the words, Let secrets of the dead be heard.
She's magic, Cassandra. A single flower blooming in an endless desert.
Damn, but that made him want to put on a straightjacket.
Not all vampires are created equal.
WEST SALEM ~ October 2011 A sudden vision, fraught with malevolence and darkness, obscured her sight. The face of a menacing figure turned from the shadows of his grisly handiwork and stared at Sorcha. Her muscles tensed. By the Goddess, could he see her? Please! No! She wanted to scream, to run, but the vision ensnared her into the horrific moment like a fly in a spider's web.
Darla flexed her three-inch claws and swiped a gnarled index finger across her phone screen, scanning another batch of personal ads from Magic Matches, but none of the men looked like a suitable victim.
Come with me And you will find What's been trapped Inside my mind...
Silent. So it should be. You have no place in this world, Luthiel. And there is no other.' Zalos reached out and lifted a few strands of her hair. 'Bright songs and the magic of hope are but a dangerous illusion. The fake comfort of witches charms.
I understand now that magic is not for wickedness, not for the devil, not for those with cruel hearts. It's for hope. For survival. It thrives in the darkness not because it is dark in nature but because the fire shines brightest then.
When you’re outnumbered by trees your perspective shifts.
I believe in the possibility of everything.
In a society of painkillers, people seem to forget that pain has a purpose. It is there to tell us when we’re ailing so we can pinpoint the issue and potentially alleviate it.
Witchcraft is not inherently a religion, thought it can be for some. Witchcraft is more of a spirituality, or rather how one relates to the world of spirit, and that’s going to be unique and individual for each witch.