Genie Wishes Quotes

You know, some people think Shadowhunters are just myths. Like mummies and genies." Kyle grinned at Jace. "Can you grant wishes?" "That depends," he said. "Do you wish to be punched in the face?

Do you have a Wish?' he asked, referring to this organization, The Genie Foundation, which is in the business of granting sick kids one wish. 'No' I said. 'I used my Wish pre-Miracle.' 'What'd you do?' I sighed loudly. 'I was thirteen,' I said. 'Not Disney,' he said. I said nothing. 'You did not go to Disney World.' I said nothing. 'HAZEL GRACE!' he shouted. 'You did not use your one dying Wish to go to Disney World with your parents.' 'Also Epcot Center,' I mumbled. 'Oh, my God,' Augustus said. 'I can't believe I had a crush on a girl with such cliché wishes.

All I've learned in today's Shakespeare class is: Sometimes you have to fall in love with the wrong person just so you can find the right person. A more useful lesson would've been: Sometimes the right person doesn't love you back. Or sometimes the right person is gay. Or sometimes you just aren't the right person. Thanks for nothing, Shakespeare.

You know, some people think Shadowhunters are just myths. Like mummies and genies.” Kyle grinned at Jace. “Can you grant wishes?” The fact that Kyle had just class Clary cute did not seem to have endeared him to Jace, whose face had tightened alarmingly. “That depends,” he said. “Do you wish to be punched in the face?

It was like having a genie. I'd only get so many wishes.

Mortals always want something more- they wish for money, but what they're really after is to be carefree. Power when what they really want is control. Beauty when they want love. Sometimes they know it, sometimes they don't

It wasn’t like in the storybooks. No witches lurked at crossroads disguised as crones, waiting to reward travelers who shared their bread. Genies didn’t burst from lamps, and talking fish didn’t bargain for their lives. In all the world, there was only one place humans could get wishes: Brimstone’s shop. And there was only one currency he accepted. It wasn’t gold, or riddles, or kindness, or any other fairy-tale nonsense, and no, it wasn’t souls, either. It was weirder than any of that. It was teeth.

Keanu Reeves?" she asks in amazement. I nod. "What did he wish for?" "Isn't it obvious?" I say, waving a hand at the screen. "Fame." "That's why he's famous? Because of a wish?" "Have you seen his movies? Surely you didn't think he made it on his acting skills?" I grant wishes; I don't work miracles. Viola looks back at the screen, eyes screwed up in awe. "I guess that makes sense," she says faintly as my former master delivers a line poorly. "Wow.

Weetzie could see him--it was a man, a little man in a turban, with a jewel in his nose, harem pants, and curly-toed slippers. "Lanky Lizards!" Weetzie exclaimed. "Greetings," said the man in an odd voice, a rich, dark purr. "Oh, shit!" Weetzie said. "I beg your pardon? Is that your wish?

I think we’re always looking for new pieces,” Viola says quietly. What? She continues, “I was looking for Lawrence, then for something to replace Lawrence, then for Aaron… maybe that’s the real truth about being broken. We’re always whole, we’re just looking to add on to ourselves, to be more whole. And then when a piece leaves, it’s broken away. But we aren’t left any less whole than we were to begin with…” “But feeling broken—” I begin, the words tight in my throat. I’m grateful that Viola cuts me off. “Is horrible. Painful,” she finishes. “But then, when you aren’t expecting it, new pieces appear and suddenly…they’re attached.” Her eyes rise to meet mine. “And you end up more whole than you were before.

She’s forgotten me. It’s over. I don’t want to see her again, and now I’ll have to. I won’t be able to help it. I’ll have to sit back and just watch her…live. Without me.” The ifrit shrugs. “Then I overestimated your feelings for her.” My jaw drops. “How dare you? Because I don’t want to see that she’s forgotten me?” "No. Because nothing is really ever gone or forgotten. If she’s a piece of you, and you of her, then memory is merely an obstacle—our power covers the memory, it doesn’t erase it. And I should think, at least based on what I saw in your eyes last night, that it’s an obstacle worth going up against.

I became an ifrit to save the lives of my fellow jinn. What kind of life saver would I be if I let you sit here and wither away in paradise?” Just an obstacle. Just an obstacle. I meet the ifrit’s eyes. “What happened to all your talk about birds and fish having nowhere to live?” The ifrit shrugs. “I suggest you start holding your breath, my friend,” he says, then pushes through the hearing room doors.

Un pájaro y un pez puede que quieran estar juntos, pero ¿dónde vivirían?

I think we both like Crazy Anna a little more than regular Anna. It's like magic - while I was trying on the bathing suit last month, it rubbed against my butt and unleashed the Absolute Best Summer Ever Bikini Genie, granting all my wishes.

Los mortales siempre quieren algo más. Desean dinero, pero en realidad buscan una vida sin preocupaciones. Poder, cuando lo que quieren de verdad es control. O belleza, cuando quieren amor. A veces lo saben y a veces no.

Jealousy is a mortal emotion. One that means I feel I have something to lose--something that, if gone, will tear away a part of me.

what did you think would happen—best case? She’ll forget about you when you return to Caliban, you know that. Or do you think she won’t wish, that you can stay here with her? That for the rest of her life, she’ll put you above getting whatever she wishes for? Even better—that for the rest of her life, she won’t slip up and say something like ‘I wish it would stop raining’? You can’t win this. In the end, you’ll be in Caliban. She’ll forget you. And whatever ‘friendship’ you think you have will be gone. Relationships are not for immortals. A bird and a fish may long for each other, but where could they live?

If a magic genie, from a lamp, offered me three wishes, I'd use one to wish you a happy birthday. So 33 percent would be spent in your celebration. I only offer that statistic so you don't think me chintzy when you find this card void of cash.

So you do know!" I shouted. My phone lay there like a genie's bottle, inanimate and yet containing the ability to grant me wishes and knowledge. "Girl, spill before I come over and dye your hair a natural color.

Oh, and 13.1 million American people had their homes foreclosed. Because their debt, it turns out, was real; it was only the debt within the financial sector that was imaginary. It was only the people who generated the crisis who got three magical wishes from an economic genie. There was no abracadabra for ordinary people; they just got abraca-fucked.

No me había dado cuenta de la vida tan insatisfecha que tenía hasta que tuve más. Hasta que tuve la pieza que no sabía que me faltaba.

It's an invention, a fairy tale devoid of any sense, like all the legends in which good spirits and fortune tellers fulfill wishes. Stories like that are made up by poor simpletons, who can't even dream of fulfilling their wishes and desires themselves. I'm pleased you're not one of them, Geralt of Rivia. It makes you closer in spirit to me. If I want something, I don't dream of it—I act. And I always get what I want.

Okay. I wish for world peace,” Weetzie said. “I am sorry,” the genie said. “I cant grant that wish. Its out of my league.” “Then I wish for an infinite number of wishes!” Those people on fairy tales never thought of that. “People in fairy tales wish for that all the time,” the genie said. “They arent stupid. It just isnt in the records because I cant grant that type of wish.

No se trata de ser buena. Se trata de ponerle pasión.

And so immediately after you say, "I am tired" or "I am broke" or "I am sick" or "I am late" or "I am overweight" or "I am old," the Genie says, "Your wish is my command.

For years, he filled a notebook with beautiful lies and impossible hopes. When he found a genie, he simply said, "I wish it was all true.

Some men may be unready for the coming of the genie who grants three wishes.

A minute or so passed by--not long, but long enough to make me wonder whether Oliver was setting up mood lighting or hiding dead bodies. Or if someone was up there waiting to stab me again. Or if someone was up there waiting to hand me a crown and tell me I was the long-lost princess of Genovia. Or if I'd tumble into a pit of lava, only to get saved at the last second by a flying carpet.

Can this be true, this simple obvious message, or am I like those shipwrecked mariners who seize an empty bottle and eagerly read out what isn't there? And yet you are there, here, sprung like a genie to ten times your natural size, towering over me, holding me in your arms like mountain sides. Your red hair blazing and you are saying, "Make three wishes and they shall all come true. Make three hundred and I will honour every one.

Si pudiera descubrir porqué se encasillan, podría averiguar por qué yo no lo hago, por qué me he convertido en una chica invisible. El tipo de chica que tiene unos cuantos amigos y un montón de conocidos, pero no pertenece a nada en concreto. Supongo que ser invisible es mejor que fingir formar parte de algo; pero no te hace sentir menos solo.

Si quieres que tus deseos duren, tienes que pedir algo que te haga feliz y no la felicidad.

Don’t wait for a genie to grant your wishes. That power is yours.

Dandelions are the genies of the plant world.

Vegas may be a genie, willing to grant wishes, but it’s also a devil in disguise, here to slay our dreams just as quickly.

No importa si no te entienden, lo que importa es que tengas el valor de decirlo.

To spend a day inside her mind and roam throughout the fields, practice rooms, and ball pits of her imagination would be one of my exclusive Genie wishes.

Sometimes you stay bottled up because you know the responsibility’s in your hands, rubbing you like a lamp, and you’re the only genie that can and must rise and expand in order to grant your every wish.

The trouble with magic is that there's too much it just can't fix. When things go wrong, glimpsing junkyard faerie and crows that can turn into girls and back again doesn't help much. The useful magic's never at hand. The three wishes and the genies in bottles, seven-league boots, invisible cloaks and all. They stay in stories, while out here in the wide world we have to muddle through as best we can on our own.

Normal life? Nothing about this is normal, Novice. I’m Death, not a Genie. I don’t go granting wishes unless absolutely necessary.” He levels his face to mine. “You do remember your family’s souls, don’t you?

Todo lo que he aprendido hoy en la clase sobre Shakespeare es que a veces tienes que enamorarte de la persona equivocada para encontrar a la correcta. Una lección más útil hubiera sido que a veces la persona adecuada no te corresponde. O que a veces la persona adecuada es gay. O que a veces tú mismo no eres la persona adecuada. Gracias por nada, Shakespeare.

Genie: Okay, fine. So what are your three wishes? Marco: Only three? In the stories I heard, the genies granted unlimited wishes. Genie: Ah, not again. Well, let me clarify this for you. I only provide the “Limited to three wishes” plan, also called the “Classic package”. There were certain gold and platinum plans offered in the past, which granted infinite wishes and where the genie practically stayed with the lamp-finder all their life. But those plans were discontinued around 2,300 years back.

Quiero demostrarle que no me hace falta pedir un deseo para formar parte de nada. Aquí estoy yo y me están invitando a una fiesta. Puedo tener amigos yo solita, sin el pelo, la ropa o los zapatos que él me ofrecía, sin un deseo. Sólo tengo que decir "sí".

... es que es imposible ser una persona rota o completa. No eres más que una persona. Sólo puedes existir, sólo formas parte de ti misma, tú eres la única responsable de tu felicidad o de formar parte de algo o de lo que sea. Ese sentimiento de estar rota o completa no es más que un truco de la mente mortal. Los tres deseos no te harán sentir más completa de lo que eres ahora. Al menos no por mucho tiempo.

-Creo que siempre estamos buscando nuevas piezas. Siempre estamos enteros, más enteros. Entonces, cuando una pieza se va, se rompe. Pero no nos quedamos menos enteros que al principio... —Pero sí con la sensación de que estamos rotos... —añado, con las palabras pegadas a la garganta. Agradezco que Viola me interrumpa. —Es horrible. Doloroso —termina—. Pero cuando menos te lo esperas, aparecen nuevas piezas y de repente... encajan.

You know, some people think Shadowhunters are just myths. Like mummies and genies.” Kyle grinned at Jace. “Can you grant wishes?” The fact that Kyle had just called Clary cute did not seem to have endeared him to Jace, whose face had tightened alarmingly. “That depends,” he said. “Do you wish to be punched in the face?

One day, I wish to find a man like in my books. He has to be just like in one of my books. And he has to love me, love me more than anything in the world. Most important of all, he has to think I’m beautiful.” “Lily, I need to tell you something.” Fazire was going to tell her about Becky’s wish and his mistake and let her look forward to something, let her look forward to the incomparable beauty she was going to be. Most of all, he had to stop her wish now. He didn’t want her wasting it on some fool idea. He wanted it to be special, perfect, to make her world better like she had made Becky and Will’s and, indeed, his. But again she didn’t hear him. Her eyes were bright and they were steady on his. “He has to be tall, very tall and dark and broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped.” Fazire stared. He didn’t even know what “narrow-hipped” meant. “And he has to be handsome, unbelievably handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong, square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes. He has to be clever and very wealthy but hardworking. He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and rugged.” Now she was getting over his head. He didn’t think there was such a thing as impossibly handsome. How cheekbones could be powerful, Fazire didn’t know. He was even thinking he might have to look up “virile” in the dictionary Sarah had given him. “And he has to be hard and cold and maybe a little bit forbidding, a little bit bad with a broken heart I have to mend or one encased in ice I have to melt or better yet… both!” Fazire thought this was getting a bit ridiculous. It was the most complicated wish he’d ever heard. But she wasn’t yet finished. “We have to go through some trials and tribulations. Something to test our love, make it strong and worthy. And… and… he has to be daring and very masculine. Powerful. People must respect him, maybe even fear him. Graceful too and lithe, like a… like a cat! Or a lion. Or something like that.” She was losing steam and Fazire had to admit he was grateful for it. “And he has to be a good lover.” Lily shocked Fazire by saying. “The best, so good, he could almost make love to me just by using his eyes.” Fazire felt himself blush. Perhaps he should have a look at these books she was reading and show them to Becky. Lily was a very sharp girl, sharp as a tack (another one of Sarah’s sayings, although Fazire couldn’t imagine a tack ever being as clever as Lily) but she was too young to be reading about any man making love to her with his eyes. Fazire had never made love, never would, genies just didn’t. But he was pretty certain fourteen year old girls shouldn’t be thinking about it. Though, he was wrong about that, or at least Becky would tell him that later. Then Fazire realised she’d stopped talking. “Is that it?” he asked. She thought for a bit, clearly not wanting to leave anything out. Then she nodded.

Resolutions show how to change in the future and what kind of person you'd like to become.

Los mortales se olvidan de advertir que el tiempo pasa.

A los mortales os hace falta compañía porque tenéis tristeza, deseos y un tiempo limitado de vida.

¿Cuántos momentos de mi vida he desperdiciado para siempre por la culpa de esto?

You don’t look like a genie." "Palazzo pants and sequined vests don’t cut it in the United States.

Obviously, genies worked out in their off-hours. He looked so good it was distracting.

Peoples desires were easy to read, clear as bottled glass and just as sturdy.

You get one wish, the smoke said. And so Yoth wished.

However, perhaps I’ll be your genie. Write down your wishes, silent one. Tell me what I can do to make it right.

You had to be pretty sick for the Genies to book you up with a wish.

The steel kettle shone, a slow furl of steam at its spout, vaguely suggestive of genie and lamp. Oh, grant me a wish, just the one.

I don't care anymore. Even if she never speaks to me again because of the press, she's worth it. She makes me a person, not just a wish granter.

Hold a genie over a hot frying pan, and he will give you ten times more wishes.

When God doesn't conform to our expectations, we're tempted to betray what we believe in. Like Judas, we're in it for what we can get out of it. So when God doesn't grant our wishes like a divine genie in a bottle, we are tempted to turn our back on Him. This is what separates the boys from the men. Or maybe I should say the sheep from the goats! How do you react when God doesn't meet your expectations? If you truly accepted the invitation to follow Jesus, you'll keep going on through hurricanes, hail, and hazardous conditions. If you have simply invited Him to follow you, you'll bail out at the first sign of bad weather.

Like it or not, I have to obey his command.  That's right. Karl is my Aladdin and I'm the fuckin' genie.  There are a few caveats though: I don't have any magical powers. Wishes are unlimited. And Karl is an asshole.

Ha! Listen, this guy walks into a bar, with a shopping bag, right? He sits down, puts the bag on the bar. Something in the bag is moving, and the bartender says ‘Hey, buddy, no animals in here’. You with me, Jones?” “Yah.” “The guy is looking real unhappy, totally down in the dumps, he reaches in the bag. He pulls out a brass lantern, then a small piano, a little stool, and finally a little guy in a tuxedo, about a foot tall. The little guy sits on the stool and starts playing the piano. Playing the piano, right?” “Yah. Got, it.” “Bartender says,” Williams’ grasp on a handhold slipped for a heart-stopping moment before the suit gloves restored their sticky grip. He could see the problem was some sort of fluid leaking from the access hatch above had coated the handhold. He moved his hand to the left to avoid the slippery fluid, and continued climbing down. “Bartender says, ‘That’s amazing, where’d you get him?’ Guy points to the lamp. ‘Magic genie granted me a wish, But he don’t hear so well-’ Before the guy can stop him, the bartender grabs the lamp, rubs it and shouts ‘I want a million bucks!’. POOF! The bar is filled with ducks! Ducks everywhere, under the tables, in the street outside, feathers flying all over the place. The bartender says ‘What the hell?’ So the guy says ‘I told you the genie don’t hear so well. You really think I asked for a twelve inch pianist?

He told me my whole life happened because I got things other people weren't using, and since he's been gone I've lived my whole life on that same principle. He told me a lot of things, and the most important of those things is never, ever to use the word wish.

If we put aside the hatred, intolerance and bigotry this was a truly magical and enchanting era. You see how even Arabic Genies are very like ours. Ours live in a bottle or a lamp and by rubbing the lamp we allow the Genie to escape, for which he grants us three wishes – the biggest castle, the most beautiful princess and an unlimited amount of gold are usually favourites. But unlike the giant, blue-skinned, muscular Genies westerners are familiar with through Disney films, the Arabic Djinni are often invisible, although they have the power to shape-shift to just about any form they like, even human. Many people still believe they are with us today, although mostly living in deserts, mountains and caves. Many western soldiers have reported seeing them on night exercises in the Middle East.

This is why Caliban was a punishment. I realize it now -- it's a beautiful, perfect world of nothingness. No connection, no longing, no . . . love. A world we're trapped in until we're needed here, a world we're condemned to while everyone we might care about forgets us.

The real Holy Spirit is not an electrifying current of ecstatic energy, a mind-numbing babbler of irrational speech, or a cosmic genie who indiscriminately grants self-centered wishes for health and wealth. The true Spirit of God does not cause His people to bark like dogs or laugh like hyenas; He does not knock them backward to the ground in an unconscious stupor; He does not incite them to worship in chaotic and uncontrollable ways; and He certainly does not accomplish His kingdom work through false prophets, fake healers, and fraudulent televangelists.

If, however, the god or genie who bestowed the magic wand told me my one wish had to do with American politics, I think I’d wave it and make the following proclamation: “Every liberal in the country must watch Fox News for one year, and every conservative in the country must watch MSNBC for one year.

school and a year into remission. You had to be pretty sick for the Genies to hook you up with a Wish. “I got it in exchange for the leg,” he explained. There was all this light on his face; he had to squint to look at me, which made his nose crinkle adorably. “Now, I’m not going to give you my Wish or anything. But I also have an interest in meeting Peter Van Houten, and it wouldn’t make sense to meet him without the girl who introduced me to his book.” “It definitely wouldn’t,” I said. “So I talked to the Genies, and they are in total agreement. They said Amsterdam is lovely in the beginning of May. They proposed

Swear... swear by the pirates' code!" Hook looked exasperated. Wendy put her hands on her hips. She knew about boys trying to sneak out of promises. She had two younger brothers. You had to be very specific with your orders and wishes, or they were as wily and untrustworthy as evil genies. And what was a pirate, really, but a boy grown, with a real sword and a mustache? "Swear it," she repeated. She could have sworn she heard muffled laughter from behind him on the deck. Hook sighed. All right, all right. I swear on the pirates' code: I, Captain Hook, promise that in return for Peter Pan's shadow I shall grant Wendy Darling passage to Never Land and home- when circumstances allow it.

Moreover, if we move in the direction of making machines which learn and whose behavior is modified by experience, we must face the fact that every degree of independence we give the machine is a degree of possible defiance of our wishes. The genie in the bottle will not willingly go back in the bottle, nor have we any reason to expect them to be well disposed to us.

If I could wave a magic wand and have one wish granted, I’d wish for an end to world hunger; the small shit could wait in line. If, however, the god or genie who bestowed the magic wand told me my one wish had to do with American politics, I think I’d wave it and make the following proclamation: “Every liberal in the country must watch Fox News for one year, and every conservative in the country must watch MSNBC for one year.” (Middle-of-the-roaders could stick with CSI.)

In an old academic joke, a dean is presiding over a faculty meeting when a genie appears and offers him one of three wishes—money, fame, or wisdom. The dean replies, “That’s easy. I’m a scholar. I’ve devoted my life to understanding. Of course I’ll take wisdom.” The genie waves his hand and vanishes in a puff of smoke. The smoke clears to reveal the dean with his head in his hands, lost in thought. A minute elapses. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Finally a professor calls out, “Well? Well?” The dean mutters, “I should have taken the money.

In explaining this Somalia-to-Sweden continuum, with poor violent repressive unhappy countries at one end and rich peaceful liberal happy ones at the other, correlation is not causation, and other factors like education, geography, history, and culture may play roles.60 But when the quants try to tease them apart, they find that economic development does seem to be a major mover of human welfare.61 In an old academic joke, a dean is presiding over a faculty meeting when a genie appears and offers him one of three wishes—money, fame, or wisdom. The dean replies, “That’s easy. I’m a scholar. I’ve devoted my life to understanding. Of course I’ll

You don’t approve?” Joan asked, picking up on Delphine’s tone. “Their stories were for themselves, not the Mirrors.” “What do you mean?” said Bea. “Certainly sometimes a good little character would find a lamp, and would not be so corrupted by the strangely endless possibilities of three wishes that they ended up causing more harm than they ever imagined. Those stories fostered belief, they were retold, certainly; but they were few and far between. Most of the genie’s tales showed the characters exactly who they really were, not when they were despised and degraded, not when they’d reached the gutter and been given licence to look at the stars. No, the genies showed them who they were when they were invincible. The characters, they try to forget stories like that.

It's what's in the book that matters. Standing in her daughter's room which also had shelves and shelves filled with books, Tess remembered a character in a favorite story saying that to someone who objected to using the Bible as a fan on a hot summer day. But she could no longer remember which story it was. Did that mean the book had ceased to live for her? The title she was trying to recall could be in this very room, along with all of Tess's childhood favorites, waiting for Carla Scout to discover them one day. But what if she rejected them all, insisting on her own myths and legends, as Octavia has prophesied? How many of these books would be out of print in five, ten years? What did it mean to be out of print in a world where books could live inside devices, glowing like captured genies, desperate to get back out in the world and grant people's wishes?

-Me has dicho que no dura, que desear ser feliz nunca dura. Así que lo que me haría sentir completa es formar parte de algo en vez de ser invisible, pero no quiero desear eso. No puede que sea tan patética para desear algo así –su voz se apaga. –No sé qué hacer. Me río. No quiero, pero no puedo evitarlo. No me extraña que no pueda saber lo que quiere, puesto que no es un auténtico deseo. Los ojos de Viola brillan de ira. -Me alegro de que te haga gracia. Suelto otra carcajada. -Bueno, es que es imposible ser una persona rota por completo. No eres más que una persona. Solo puedes existir. Solo formas parte de ti misma, tú eres la única responsable de tu felicidad o de lo que sea. Ese sentimiento de estar rota o completa no es más que un truco de la mente mortal. Los tres deseos no te harán sentir más completa de lo que eres ahora. Al menos no por mucho tiempo.

Skylar: There was this Irish guy, walking down the beach one day. And he comes across a bottle, and this Genie pops out. The genie turns to the Irishman and says "You've released me from my prison, so I'll grant you three wishes." The Irish guy thinks for a minute and says "What I really want is a pint of Guiness that never empties." And POOF! A bottle appears. He slams it down, and lo and behold it fills back up again. Well, the Irish guy can't believe it. He drinks it again, and again BOOM! It fills back up. So, while the Irish guy is marveling at his good fortune, the Genie is getting impatient, because it's hot and he wants to get on with his freedom. He says "Let's go, you have two more wishes." The Irish guy slams his drink again, it fills back up, he's still amazed. The Genie can't take it anymore. He says "Buddy, I'm boiling out here. What are your other two wishes?" The Irish guy looks at his drink, looks at the Genie and says... "I guess I'll have two more of these.

Where Western tales begin by shifting us to another time – ‘Once upon a time’ they say, meaning elsewhen, meaning then rather than now – Russian skazki make an adjustment of place. ‘In a certain land’, they start; or, ‘In the three-times-ninth kingdom …’ Meaning elsewhere, meaning there rather than here. Yet these elsewheres are always recognisable as home. In the distance will always be a woodwalled town where the churches have onion domes. The ruler will always be a Tsar, Ivan or Vladimir. The earth is always black. The sky is always wide. It’s Russia, always Russia, the dear dreadful enormous territory at the edge of Europe which is as large as all Europe put together. And, also, it isn’t. It is story Russia, not real Russia; a place never quite in perfect overlap with the daylight country of the same name. It is as near to it as a wish is to reality, and as far away too. For the tales supplied what the real country lacked, when villagers were telling them, and Afanaseyev was writing them down. Real Russia’s fields grew scraggy crops of buckwheat and rye. Story Russia had magic tablecloths serving feasts without end. Real Russia’s roads were mud and ruts. Story Russia abounded in tools of joyful velocity: flying carpets, genies of the rushing air, horses that scarcely bent the grass they galloped on. Real Russia fixed its people in sluggish social immobility. Story Russia sent its lively boys to seek the Firebird or to woo the Swan Maiden. The stories dreamed away reality’s defects. They made promises good enough to last for one evening of firelight; promises which the teller and the hearers knew could only be delivered in some Russian otherwhere. They could come true only in the version of home where the broke-backed trestle over the stream at the village’s end became ‘a bridge of white hazelwood with oaken planks, spread with purple cloths and nailed with copper nails’. Only in the wish country, the dream country. Only in the twenty-seventh kingdom.

Okay, two Irish brothers are out at sea fishing. A storm blows up, and they lose both oars, they’re convinced they’re going to drown. Then suddenly one of the brothers spots something in the water, and manages to grab hold of a bottle. They pull the cork out and POOF! A genie appears. He grants them one wish, anything they want. So the two brothers look around at the stormy sea, they’re stuck out there with no oars, several miles from shore, and the first brother is thinking about what to ask for when the second brother cheerfully blurts out: “I wish the whole sea was Guinness!” The genie stares at him like he’s an idiot, then says, okay, sure, let’s go for that. And POOF! The sea turns into Guinness. The genie vanishes. The first brother stares at the second brother and snaps: “You bloody idiot! We had one single wish and you wished the sea was Guinness! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” The second brother shakes his head in shame. The first brother throws his arms out and says…” The negotiator left a dramatic pause, but didn’t have time to deliver the punch line before Jack cut in from the other end of the line. “Now we have to piss in the boat!

If I could wave a magic wand and have one wish granted, I’d wish for an end to world hunger; the small shit could wait in line. If, however, the god or genie who bestowed the magic wand told me my one wish had to do with American politics, I think I’d wave it and make the following proclamation: “Every liberal in the country must watch Fox News for one year, and every conservative in the country must watch MSNBC for one year.” (Middle-of-the-roaders could stick with CSI.) Can you imagine what that would be like? For the first month, the screams of “What IS this shit???” would echo high to the heavens. For the next three, there would be a period of grumbling readjustment as both sides of the political spectrum realized that, loathsome politics aside, they were still getting the weather, the sports scores, the hard news, and the Geico Gecko. During the next four months, viewers might begin seeing different anchors and commentators, as each news network’s fringe bellowers attracted increasing flak from their new captive audiences. Adamantly shrill editorial stances would begin to modify as a result of tweets and emails saying, “Oh, wait a minute, Slick, that’s fucking ridiculous.” Finally, the viewers themselves might change. Not a lot; just a slide-step or two away from the kumbayah socialists of the left and the Tea Partiers of the right. I’m not saying they’d re-colonize the all-but-deserted middle (lot of cheap real estate there, my brothers and sisters), but they might close in on it a trifle.

I wish to be with you forever, to look upon your face always, to never leave your side.

God is not a being like the genie in a bottle who we rouse when we want some miraculous intervention, and then set aside until the next time we need him. He is not our private “blessing genie”. And so, prayer cannot be a tool or methodology that teaches us how to rub God the right way so He will grant our wishes. If this were so, we would be the master, and the blessing genie would be our tool, our servant to do our good bidding.

Augustus Waters–style, I read him the letter in lieu of saying hello. “Wow,” he said. “I know, right?” I said. “How am I going to get to Amsterdam?” “Do you have a Wish?” he asked, referring to this organization, The Genie Foundation, which is in the business of granting sick kids one wish. “No,” I said. “I used my Wish pre-Miracle.” “What’d you do?” I sighed loudly. “I was thirteen,” I said. “Not Disney,” he said. I said nothing. “You did not go to Disney World.” I said nothing. “Hazel GRACE!” he shouted. “You did not use your one dying Wish to go to Disney World with your parents.” “Also Epcot Center,” I mumbled.

I remember fantasies of finding notes in old bottles washed ashore. I remember magic carpets and giant "genies" and trying to figure out what my three wishes would be. I remember not understanding why Cinderella didn't just pack up and leave, if thins were really all that bad. I remember getting a car door slammed on my finger once, and how long it took for the pain to come. I remember wondering if goats really do eat tin cans.

Two Irishmen, Paul and Patrick, were drifting in a lifeboat after escaping from a sinking ship. While rummaging through the life-boat’s provisions, Patrick found an old lamp. Hoping a genie would appear, he rubbed the lamp vigorously. To his amazement, a genie came forth. This particular genie, however, said he could offer just one wish, not the standard three. Without giving much thought to the matter, Patrick blurted out, “Turn the entire ocean into Guinness!” The genie clapped his hands and—poof!—the entire ocean turned into vast sea of Guinness. Paul looked disgustedly at Patrick and, after a long and tense moment, he spoke. “Nice going, Patrick! Now we’re going to have to pee in the boat.

Long before the child develops his inner resources for overcoming dangers he is dependent upon his parents to satisfy his needs, to relieve him of tension, to anticipate danger, and to remove the source of a disturbance. This is the situation of the infant. To the infant and very young child the parents are very powerful beings, magical creatures who divine secret wishes, satisfy the deepest longings, and perform miraculous feats. We cannot remember this time of life, and if we try to recapture the feelings of earliest childhood we can only find something analogous in fairy tales. The genies who are summoned in fairy tales and bring forth tables heaped with delicacies, the fairies who grant the most extravagant wishes, the magic beasts who transport a child to far-off lands, the companion lion who overcomes all enemies, the kings and queens who command power over life, give us imaginative reconstructions of the small child’s world. We

But even the most loving and dedicated parents soon discover that in a child’s world a good fairy is easily transformed into a witch, the friendly lion turns into a ferocious beast, the benevolent king becomes a monster, and the paradise of early childhood is periodically invaded by dark and sinister creatures. These night creatures of the child’s inner world are not so easily traced to real persons and real events in a child’s life. While we are enormously flattered to recognize ourselves in a child’s fantasy life as a good fairy, a genie, or a wise old king, we cannot help feeling indignant at the suggestion that we can also be represented as a witch, a bogey, or a monster. After all, we have never eaten or threatened to eat small boys and girls, we are not distillers of magic potions, we are not ferocious in anger, we do not order dreadful punishments for minor (or major) crimes. It is also true, to be fair about it, that we do not have magic wands, cannot be summoned from a bottle or a lamp to grant wishes, and do not wear a crown, but we are less inclined to argue about these distortions of parenthood. How

Be careful what you wish for, you can't put the genie back in the bottle.

Had I been further along in my Christian walk and more focused on serving God rather than myself, I might have seen that. But I still had a long way to go in my faith. In my mind, being a Christian meant that God loved me and that He wanted me to be happy, healthy, and successful. I’d been listening to CDs that taught me how to transform my mind, when I should have been immersing myself in the Bible so God could transform my heart through His Word. Up to that point, I’d been treating God like a genie in a lamp, making childish wishes and then waiting for Him to deliver. But God didn’t send His Son to die on the cross so that one day I could become a famous fashion model. He doesn’t exist to serve me; I exist to serve Him.

If you ever get a single wish from a genie, wish that what you know you should do and what you really have fun doing become one and the same. Whatever grand vision you may have, for you, those you love, or all of humanity and beyond, it becomes attainable there. Indeed, when these two become one, you yourself become the genie.

668. Bill Gates is at the beach when he discovers a bottle in the surf. He pulls out the cork and a Genie appears. The Genie says, “I have been trapped for 100 years. As a reward you can make a wish.” Gates thinks about it as he carries the bottle back to his beach cottage. Once there, he goes to a bookshelf, pulls out an atlas and turns to a map of theMiddle East. This area has seen conflict and suffering for hundreds of years. What I wish for is peace in the Middle East. The Genie replies, “I don’t know I can do a lot, but this? Don’t you have another wish?” Bill Gates thinks and finally says, OK. The whole world hates Microsoft because we have conquered the software market and because Windows still crashes. I wish you would make everybody love us. The Genie says, Let me see that map again.

Do we want a master, or shall we have a genie whose command is our wish? This is the tension of desire—and the test of revelation.

God is sovereign. He does things His way. He’s not a genie in a lamp that submits to your every wish. But He does love you and desires an intimate relationship with you. And a thriving walk with Him doesn’t happen apart from prayer.

Today I release the effect of every negative experience of the past and every negative effect it had on me. I love myself for what I am and I extend this feeling to everyone else. I wish for everyone to have all the good they deserve. I want all the good there is for myself and for everybody. I know that we all share this planet, and we are all a part of Life. I accept everyone as I accept myself.

They're just paintings. Pretty enough, but just paintings. They aren't expressions or emotions...or me. I mean they told us to paint landscapes and I obeyed; I painted landscapes. Landscapes that belong on walls in living rooms, or above bedroom dressers. They don't belong to me. They aren't paintings to show the world who I am, what I am.

Algorithms do exactly what they’re programmed to do, which sometimes creates a challenge for programmers. They call it the “genie problem.” Right now, machines will deliver you exactly what you wish for—and we’re not capable yet of wishing for the right thing. We can certainly use algorithms to supplement our thinking, but knowing what’s ahead still requires people who can listen, analyze, and make connections.

I’ll be your genie. Write down your wishes, silent one. Tell me what I can do to make it right. “Who knows what will come true.

Suck it up, Kid. Wish in one hand, spit in the other, and see which fills up first. Shit happens. You gotta deal with it. Ain’t no use focusing on what you wish had happened. ‘What if’s’ will drive you crazy and set you on a fast road to a desk, or worse, puttin’ a gun in your mouth. You’re gonna do a lot of good, Kid. I can tell. But not if you’re lost in wishful thinking. You ain’t a fuckin’ genie. All you can do is learn from your fuck ups and do better next time.

But I’ve no business wanting you. I shouldn’t have come to you tonight.” At first Garrett was too stunned to reply. He wielded honesty like a weapon, she thought dazedly. Now he’d left them nowhere to hide. Coming from a man as secretive as he was, it was astonishing. “You had no choice,” she eventually said. “I summoned you.” Her cheek curved against his shoulder as she added, “My genie of the whistle.” “I don’t grant wishes,” he said. “A second-rate genie. I should have known I’d get one of those.

And so immediately after you say, "I am tired" or "I am broke" or "I am sick" or "I am late" or "I am overweight" or "I am old," the Genie says, "Your wish is my command." Knowing this, wouldn't it be a good idea to begin to use the two most powerful words, I AM, to your advantage? How about, "I AM receiving every good thing. I AM happy I AM abundant. I AM healthy. I AM love. I AM always on time. I AM eternal youth. I AM filled with energy every single day.