Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There’s magic in that. It’s in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that… there are many kinds of magic, after all.

Erin Morgenstern
The Night Circus

Speaks to your soul

July 4, 2020

Music can transport you to another time with a couple of notes. It makes you feel the heartbreak or the love, right along with the singer. The right song speaks to your soul in a way nothing else can. It’s magic.

Cindi Madsen
Cipher

touched by magic

June 28, 2020

Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live.

Nora Roberts
Charmed

Alone

June 21, 2020

Sometimes, I feel the least alone
when I’m alone
creating characters from ashes
watching them fly around my ceiling
twirling and swirling in smooth circles
leaving trails of stories behind
before they leap out the window
throwing themselves into the night. I gather up the dust
rub it between my fingers
and whisper the magic words –
then, I get to work.

Kristen Costello

magic

June 2, 2020

There is no such things as magic, though there is such a thing as knowledge of the hidden ways of Nature.

H. Rider Haggard
She: A History of Adventure

She was trying, as do all the nostalgic, for the magic of strange garments which transform the spirit at the same time as the body, and thus revive for an hour the grace of a vanished era. I loved her for reviving the sacred fires of ruined temples and wreathing broken statues with roses.

Renée Vivien
A Woman Appeared To Me
tran. Jeanette H. Foster

actually a magic spell

April 20, 2020

Poetry is not a fancy way of giving you information; it’s an incantation. It is actually a magic spell. It changes things; it changes you.

Philip Pullman
Interview in The New Yorker, 29th September 2019

mysterious island

March 23, 2020

The little island seemed to float on the dark lake-waters. Trees grew on it, and a little hill rose in the middle of it. It was a mysterious island, lonely and beautiful. All the children stood and gazed at it, loving it and longing to go to it. It looked so secret – almost magic.

“Well,” said Jack at last. “What do you think? Shall we run away, and live on the secret island?”

“Yes!” whispered all the children.

“Let’s!”

Enid Blyton
The Secret Island

At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern & left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations & capabilities impossible to any less magical & quiet hour.

H.P. Lovecraft
letter to Lillian D. Clark, 1st September 1924

My whole life has been spent trying to bring together ‘real life’ and the world of fantasy, in particular by finding new and interesting ways of expressing a sense of the magical in my writing. Ever since I was five years old, hunting down fairies in the back alley behind my parents’ house, a sense of more to life than meets the eye has been part of who I am. When I was a child, life was one big fairy tale. That was how I felt. But how to get into that fairy tale? How to make that fairy tale my life, and make it real and be a part of it?

It was through stories that I found the way. I couldn’t write when I was five years old, but I could make up stories and that was what I did, standing at the garden fence, telling them out loud to the big children in the house next door, lined up on their side of the fence asking, ‘What happened next?’ But those stories, made up off the top of my head, were ephemeral. They were fly-by-nights, whereas words on paper had a strange new durability which I discovered when I learnt to write. Describing Winnie the Pooh hunting honey made me part of the story. Adventuring with the Famous Five turned them into a Famous Six. I made those things my own, and I made them real – and simply by writing about them.

Pauline Fisk
Wild Edric (and me)