Michael Scott Quotes

Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!

...words are some of the most powerful and important things I know....Language is the tool of love and the weapon of hatred. It's the bright red warning flag of danger--and the stone foundation of diplomacy and peace.

I'm aware of the mystery around us, so I write about coincidences, premonitions, emotions, dreams, the power of nature, magic.

I took Latin and Spanish. I can speak a very small amount of Spanish, but Latin has sort of gone away! Unless I was joining the Catholic Church, there would be no need to learn Latin.

Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.

You don't question magic.

Intentions compressed into words enfold magical power.

Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.

Common fluency of speech in many men and most women is owing to a scarcity of matter.

The mystery lies in the use of language to express human life.

Sydney: I like Latin. It's fun. Eddie: I can't believe you think we're the strange ones.

Ancient mirror Macick mirror Shades of gray Hidden Forbidden Within, away Part the mist Macick kissed Call the fey Reveal the past The spell is cast I save the day!

Beware what you speak,' said the Merlin very softly, 'for indeed the words we speak make shadows of what is to come, and by speaking them we bring them to pass, my king.

Magic is the cheat codes for the world.

It is worth the expense of youthful days and costly hours, if you learn only some words of an ancient language, which are raised out of the trivialness of the street, to be perpetual suggestions and provocations. It is not in vain that the farmer remembers and repeats the few Latin words which he has heard.

He raised his staff. There was a roll of thunder. The sunlight was blotted out from the eastern windows; the whole hall became suddenly dark as night. The fire faded to sullen embers. Only Gandalf could be seen, standing white and tall before the blackened hearth.

She tore a page from the book and ripped it in half. Then a chapter. Soon, there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her. The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this. Without words, the Führer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better. What good were the words? She said it audibly now, to the orange-lit room. "What good are the words?

Yes, time can be buoyed by wordlessness, but it needs to be anchored in words.

Sky and sea, keep harm from me. Earth and fire, bring my desire.

And so he was reading the story as if it were a spell and the words of it, spoken aloud, could make magic happen.

Somewhere behind me, Zia yelled, "Hippo!" Which I thought was a little late. She stumbled toward me over the rocking deck, the tip of her staff on fire. Our ghostly pal Setne floated behind her, grinning with delight. "There is it!" Setne shook his diamond pink rings. "Told ya Apophis would send a monster to kill you." "You're so smart!" I shouted. "Now, how do we stop it?

To possess another language is to possess another soul.

Aladdin's lamp is mine.

Language is the machine of the poet.