Wave A Magic Wand Quotes

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.

Fairy godmothers didn't exist, and even if they did, they wouldn't wave a magic wand and make everything better.(Not without a contract, anyway.)

We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it'll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it.

I can do this, Logan," she said confidently. "Kala trained me for this." "What if something goes wrong? I can't exactly wave a magic wand over you. I'm not Harry Potter." "Who?" "Never mind.

But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway.” “And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?” “Throw it away and punch him on the nose,” Ron suggested.

Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.” She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. “Er — all right.” He cleared his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.” He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep. “Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course.

The funny thing about mundies," Jace said, to nobody in particular, "is how obsessed with magic they are for a bunch of people who don't even know what the word means." I know what it means," Clary snapped. No, you don't, you just think you do. Magic is a dark elemental force, not just a lot of sparkly wands and crystal balls and talking goldfish." I never said it was a lot of talking goldfish, you-" Jace waved a hand, cutting her off. "Just because you call an electric eel a rubber duck doesn't make it a rubber duck, does it? And God help the poor bastard who decides they want to take a bath with the duckie.

You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

We don’t have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free. It will ask for nothing in return. It will take a bow at our funeral and accept the accolades for a job well done and then it will disappear. Living is a little more complex. There’s one thing we always have to do. Breathe. In and out, every single day in every hour minute and moment we must inhale whether we like it or not. Even as we plan to asphyxiate our hopes and dreams still we breathe. Even as we wither away and sell our dignity to the man on the corner we breathe. We breathe when we’re wrong, we breathe when we’re right, we breathe even as we slip off the ledge toward an early grave. It cannot be undone. So I breathe. I count all the steps I’ve climbed toward the noose hanging from the ceiling of my existence and I count out the number of times I’ve been stupid and I run out of numbers.

Fairy godmothers didn't exist, and even if they did, they wouldn't wave a magic wand and make everything better. (Not without a contract, anyway.) Besides, I had something better than a fairy godmother; I had my faery knight, my faery trickster, and my faery cat, and that was enough.

I know it is something of a cliche to say that love makes all things possible, but I believe it does. It is not a magic wand that can be waved over life to make it all sweet and lovely and trouble free, but it can give the energy to fight the odds and win.

...but there were no faerie godmothers. There were only mothers and grandmothers, and there was no magic wand to wave over a person's heart and make it all better. The fairy tales lied. ...Fucking Brothers Grimm.

There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

God uses no magic wand to simply wave bad things into nonexistence. The sins that he remits, he remits by making them his own and suffering them. The pain and heartaches that he relieves, he relieves by suffering them himself. These things can be shared and absorbed, but they cannot be simply wished or waved away. They must be suffered.

...there was another, gorier parturition, when two nations incarnated out of one. A foreigner drew a magic line on a map and called it the new border; it became a river of blood upon the earth. And the orchards, fields, factories, businesses, all on the wrong side of that line, vanished with a wave of the pale conjuror's wand.

If I could wave a magic wand and eliminate one term from the lexicon of racism discussion, it would be “reverse-racism”. It’s the go-to of every clueless person who can’t be bothered to take any time to understand anything about history or context. Every time I hear it, my faith in humanity diminishes. Use of that term is the easiest way to tell that someone has no idea what racism actually is. These are the same people who will, in response to a POC’s complex and nuanced understanding of racism, quote the dictionary definition to us. They can’t fathom that we know more about our own experiences than the dictionary. ‘Reverse-racism’ is not a thing. Tell your friends.

We don’t have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free. It will ask for nothing in return. It will take a bow at our funeral and accept the accolades for a job well done and then it will disappear. Living is a little more complex.

When we pray "Let your kingdom come," we aren't asking God to bring history to an end and whisk us to realms of glory, or to wave a magic wand and solve all the problems we face in our life. Rather, we are making a radical commitment to live our life in the world ("on earth") in such loving abandonment to God that the values and principles, the perspectives and dynamics of God's realm of life and wholeness become incarnate in and through our being and doing. Here too we are utterly incapable of actualizing the kingdom in this way. We can, however, through loving abandonment, allow God to incarnate kingdom life in and through us in the circumstances of our daily life.

I rarely write about magic in the waving wands, Harry Potter sense. Usually “magic” isn’t even mentioned because it isn’t a separate power, it’s part of the natural world.

If only fairy tales were real. Somebody could wave a wand and magically make things how they used to be.

Getting the puppy's hopes up. More likely, every bloodbag on Eden is screaming and tearing their faces off, but, oh, no, no one wants to hear that" He waved a hand. "So, go ahead, tell him that everything is going to be fine. All the meatsacks are perfectly content on their happy little island, Sarren has given up world destruction to raise kittens, and the magic wish fairy will wave her wand and turn shit into gold.

In the words of Mr Thierry Coup of Warner Bros: 'We are taking the most iconic and powerful moments of the stories and putting them in an immersive environment. It is taking the theme park experience to a new level.' And of course I wish Thierry and his colleagues every possible luck, and I am sure it will be wonderful. But I cannot conceal my feelings; and the more I think of those millions of beaming kids waving their wands and scampering the Styrofoam turrets of Hogwartse_STmk, and the more I think of those millions of poor put-upon parents who must now pay to fly to Orlando and pay to buy wizard hats and wizard cloaks and wizard burgers washed down with wizard meade_STmk, the more I grind my teeth in jealous irritation. Because the fact is that Harry Potter is not American. He is British. Where is Diagon Alley, where they buy wands and stuff? It is in London, and if you want to get into the Ministry of Magic you disappear down a London telephone box. The train for Hogwarts goes from King's Cross, not Grand Central Station, and what is Harry Potter all about? It is about the ritual and intrigue and dorm-feast excitement of a British boarding school of a kind that you just don't find in America. Hogwarts is a place where children occasionally get cross with each other—not 'mad'—and where the situation is usually saved by a good old British sense of HUMOUR. WITH A U. RIGHT? NOT HUMOR. GOTTIT?

So it's important to remember that our job isn't to solve other people's problems for them, but to help them to discover the ways that are most effective and most practical for them to deal with their own problems. We can't wave a magic wand or open a self-help book to a certain page and say, "There--you're no longer an alcoholic," but we can listen to them and talk to them and help them to find ways to deal with the issues that are driving them to use alcohol. And when they're facing the hardest times in dealing with the problems, we can be there as someone to lean on when they need to lean.

As he lay there, fragments of past states of emotion, fugitive felicities of thought and sensation, rose and floated on the surface of his thoughts. It was one of those moments when the accumulated impressions of life converge on heart and brain, elucidating, enlacing each other, in a mysterious confusion of beauty. He had had glimpses of such a state before, of such mergings of the personal with the general life that one felt one's self a mere wave on the wild stream of being, yet thrilled with a sharper sense of individuality than can be known within the mere bounds of the actual. But now he knew the sensation in its fulness, and with it came the releasing power of language. Words were flashing like brilliant birds through the boughs overhead; he had but to wave his magic wand to have them flutter down to him. Only they were so beautiful up there, weaving their fantastic flights against the blue, that it was pleasanter, for the moment, to watch them and let the wand lie.

Belief in Jesus does not come by the waving of a magic wand. It comes by hearing the word of God through Jesus.

Just because it doesn't happen within a wave of a wand, doesn't mean its not magic.

The fairy waved her scarlet wand, and a shower of sparkling red fairy dust floated softly down to the ground. Where the dust landed, all kinds of red flowers appeared with a pop!

We had it all. Life was perfect. And then life changed. It always does. When life changes in this way, we can beg and plead to go back to the way things were. Feeling entitled to that reality. Waiting for someone to wave the magic wand and put things back to normal; back to the way life was. Or we can step up, recognize that it is time to move forward from here, and embrace total accountability

I have sometimes wondered why Jesus so frequently touched the people he healed, many of whom must have been unattractive, obviously diseased, unsanitary, smelly. With his power, he easily could have waved a magic wand. In fact, a wand would have reached more people than a touch. He could have divided the crowd into affinity groups and organized his miracles--paralyzed people over there, feverish people here, people with leprosy there--raising his hands to heal each group efficiently, en masse. But he chose not to. Jesus' mission was not chiefly a crusade against disease (if so, why did he leave so many unhealed in the world and tell followers to hush up details of healings?), but rather a ministry to individual people, some of whom happened to have a disease. He wanted those people, one by one, to feel his love and warmth and his full identification with them. Jesus knew he could not readily demonstrate love to a crowd, for love usually involves touching.

We don’t have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free. It will ask for nothing in return. It will take a bow at our funeral and accept the accolades for a job well done and then it will disappear. Living is a little more complex. There’s one thing we always have to do. Breathe.

Recently though, they have been claiming I haven’t put out enough specifics. There’s a good reason for this, and it fits perfectly with my overall philosophy of leadership: Many of our problems, caused by years of stupid decisions or no decisions at all, have grown into a huge mess. If I could wave a magic wand and fix them, I’d do it. But there are a lot of different voices—and interests—that have to be considered when working toward solutions. This involves getting people into a room and negotiating compromises until everyone walks out of that room on the same page.

Wouldn't it be lovely, I thought again, if I could wave my magic wand and make every child wanted and cared for, and every parent capable of caring for and loving their child? But practically, all I could do was the best for the children I looked after, and hope I gave them something positive to take with them.

You meet a wizard in downtown Chicago. The wizard tells you he can make you more attractive if you pay him money. When you ask how this process works, the wizard points to a random person on the street. You look at this random stranger. The wizard says, "I will now make them a dollar more attractive." He waves his magic wand. Ostensibly, this person does not change at all; as far you can tell, nothing is different. But - somehow - this person is suddenly more appealing. The tangible difference is invisible to the naked eye, but you can't deny that this person is vaguely sexier. This wizard has a weird rule, though - you can only pay him once. You can't keep giving him money until you're satisfied. You can only pay him one lump sum up front. How much cash do you give the wizard?

In all the time he was sick, Morrie never held out hope he would be cured. He was realistic to a fault. One time, I asked if someone were to wave a magic wand and make him all better, would he become, in time, the man he had been before? He shook his head. “No way I could go back. I am a different self now. I’m different in my attitudes.

Like the wave of a magic wand, knowing the mythic heritage of a place can re-enchant the landscape.

Change is not, then, a matter of “magical” thinking or waving a “wand”—it is about pushing ideas, building movements, and challenging the status quo.

She rarely went to parties, unless dragged along by Malia, who could wave her magic wand and lubricate the jagged edges of the world with giggly happy dust.

Faith itself, you see, is the key-the magic wand that they wave over the bubbling brew they have concocted to render it 'self-evident'.

He had wished for a dog, and as though some good fairy had waved a magic wand, there was a dog.

Just kidding,” he said, standing. “Pretty sure it’s just a dick in my pants and not a magic wand. But if I could wave it and help you get over him, I promise I would.

That’s not a telephone,” he said. “It’s a magic wand hell-bent on destroying the world. But you call it what you want. Magic waves, blah blah blah.

You know, the real problem is going to come in a few days when it begins yellowing. Then it’ll seriously clash with your reddish hair.” Only Tiffany would worry about properly accessorizing a black eye. “But it’ll go great with my eyes,” I said. “Because yellow and green go together.” “Mmm. Might work. Still, come and see me if you want it to go away.” And what was she going to do? Wave a magic wand?

Many centuries ago, I discovered your world by accident. After a long and wonderful career of helping people (like Cinderella) achieve their dreams, I was only eager to do more. So one day I closed my eyes, waved my magic wand, and said, “I wish to go someplace where people need me the most.” When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the Land of Stories. When I first arrived, your world was enduring a time known as the Dark Ages, and there couldn’t be a better description. It was a period consumed with poverty, plague, and war. People were suffering and starving, and they were very doubtful that conditions would get any better.

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.)

Damian, if you really like her, shouldn't you want to take it slow?” “I am taking it slow because what I really want to do is wave one of your magic wands, make you disappear, and throw her across a chaise and fuck her until she can’t move.

The libertarian solution is to prevent the government from redistributing money in the first place. Imagine for a moment that the $2 trillion that the US government spends on transfer payments were left instead in the hands of the people who started with it. If I could wave a magic wand, that would be my solution. It is a case I have made elsewhere.2 Leave the wealth where it originates, and watch how its many uses, individual and collaborative, enable civil society to meet the needs that government cannot.

The wish map is not a magic wand, with the wave of which you can change your life. It only opens up new opportunities for you, but you must go through the internal changes necessary to see these opportunities. You will have to let them into your life and use them yourself.

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.

We need faith that makes room for suffering, that refuses to deny the brokenness of this sin-sick world and our place in it. We need theology that honors the ache while clasping tightly to the hand of a God who refuses to abandon us. We need a community that doesn’t wait for Jesus to wave a magic wand and fix us before they can accept us. Sweet friend, there is nothing wrong with you. You are not a bad Christian for toiling under the crushing weight of depression. Mental illness is not a failure of faith or evidence of a flimsy prayer life. It’s simply a common part of the human condition, one that many people will experience.

There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight--’” “Midnight, our mum always told us,” said Ron, who had stretched out, arms behind his head, to listen. Hermione shot him a look of annoyance. “Sorry, I just think it’s a bit spookier if it’s midnight!” said Ron. “Yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives,” said Harry before he could stop himself. Xenophilius did not seem to be paying much attention, but was staring out of the window at the sky. “Go on, Hermione.” “‘In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. “‘And Death spoke to them--’” “Sorry,” interjected Harry, “but Death spoke to them?” “It’s a fairy tale, Harry!” “Right, sorry. Go on.

And you have to actually understand what you're saying—how the words translate into magic. You can't just wave your wand and repeat whatever you've heard somebody saying down on the street corner; that's a good way to accidentally separate someone from their bollocks. None of it comes naturally to me. Words. Language. Speaking.

Since when do wizards wear robes?" I whispered. "That's falling into every human stereotype ever created." Jeezum. Next thing you knew, they'd be waving around magic wands. "The First Elder thought they'd look more intimidating in robes than in business suits," Alex whispered back. "They look like they're on their way to a costume party at Hogwarts.

American progressives cannot wave a magic wand and solve the Israel-Palestine conflict, but we can certainly take action. We can push Israel to allow the people of Gaza the freedom to rebuild their economy. We can put real pressure on Israel to stop expanding its settlements, and to allow Palestinian towns to grow, as well as allow the free movement of Palestinians in the West Bank. We can make it clear that our democratic values demand that we support Palestinians having the same right to a national existence as Israelis do, and the same right to live in peace and security. We can press Israel to stop blocking the rights that Palestinians are just as entitled to as anyone else. In short, we can act on our principles, which maintain that oppressive conditions diminish life for all but the very few who profit from them.

If money was no object and you could do whatever you wanted, what would it be? If you absolutely knew you could not fail, what would you do? If someone waved a magic wand and you could have whatever you want, what would it be? What are you passionate about? How do you want to feel? How can you love yourself more? What have you always wanted to do? What are your hobbies? What are your interests? Whom do you admire?

If I waved a magic wand so that you were guaranteed a lifetime of being accepted, loved, and admired, what would your life be about? What do you stop (now that you no longer worry about what others think)? What are you going to do differently? If your quest would be different, then it’s time to begin the journey of your true self. Keep asking these questions over and over again to ensure your purpose is an outgrowth of your own interests.

It has been said that a stoic is someone who says “fuck you” to fate. So I kept going, not because I wanted to, trust me. All of me wanted to stop. I kept going because I deserve to know what not giving up on myself felt like. Some may call this living out of spite. I’m running out of tears to cry. Maybe something is changing me. If I could wave my magic wand, I’d make everything all right, but I’m not one to believe in magic. I have no idea what’s awaiting me or others who are suffering. I have no clue what will happen with time. But for the moment I know this; there are sick people and they need curing.

Magic—be it good or bad—is no simple matter. Most amateurs think that all you have to do is murmur some secret hocus-pocus—at the very most it might be necessary to wave around a magic wand like a conductor-and presto, the metamorphosis or conjuring is achieved. But that's not all there is to it. In reality, every kind of magic is incredibly complicated; one needs an enormous amount of knowledge, masses of paraphernalia, material that is, for the most part, very hard to obtain, as well as days, and sometimes months, of preparation. Plus the fact that it is always an extremely dangerous business, for even the slightest mistake can have a totally unforeseeable effect.

I have many questions for you, Harry Potter." "Like what?" Harry spat, fists still clenched. "Well," said Riddle, smiling pleasantly, "how is it that you- a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent- managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?" There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now. "Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time...." "Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter...." He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT "You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry- I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!

You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.

Faced by five glaring goblins, Jack Frost hesitated. “Perrie is the only one who can help you,” said Kirsty. With a sigh and a frown, Jack Frost held out the siren and Perrie took it. A big smile spread across her face as she hugged the siren to her chest. “Now you have to keep your end of the bargain,” said Jack Frost. “I always keep my promises,” said Perrie. She waved her wand over Jack Frost and the goblins. At once Jack Frost jumped to his feet, quickly followed by the goblins. But they didn’t say thank you to Perrie. Jack Frost just glared at the fairies. “You pesky fairies have spoiled everything again,” he grumbled. “How am I supposed to win the Helper of the Year Award without the magical flashing

He shook his head. “Most men have never attempted to look past your exterior show, let alone actually seen past it. And to their detriment, for to know you, even as little as you allow me, is a gift. You are intelligent, focused and as strong as any man I’ve ever known. Those things did not happen from some magical wave of a wand. They must have been built from a foundation of some kind.” She stared at him, surprised that her eyes filled briefly with tears. He loved her, truly loved her. With the kind of depth of feeling she had scoffed at in books or pretended only existed for others as she watched her best friends find love and true happiness with their husbands. It made the fact they could not truly be together all the more unfair.

One thing had always confused Quentin about the magic he read about in books: it never seemed especially hard to do. There were lots of furrowed brows and thick books and long white beards and whatnot, but when it came right down to it, you memorized the incantation—or you just read it off the page, if that was too much trouble—you collected the herbs, waved the wand, rubbed the lamp, mixed the potion, said the words—and just like that the forces of the beyond did your bidding. It was like making salad dressing or driving stick or assembling Ikea furniture—just another skill you could learn. It took some time and effort, but compared to doing calculus, say, or playing the oboe—well, there really was no comparison. Any idiot could do magic.

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.

Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.’ She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. ‘Er – all right.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.’ He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep. ‘Are you sure that’s a real spell?’ said the girl. ‘Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard – I’ve learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?’ She said all this very fast. Harry looked at Ron and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn’t learnt all the set books off by heart either.

And estranged though they might be, Rees couldn't stand the idea that his wife would be rebuffed at the ball. She was no Cinderella, after all, with a fairy godmother waiting in the wings. He would just have to wave his own magic wand. He found himself grinning at that, and decided not to share the joke with Darby.

Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.’ She sat down. Ron looked taken aback. ‘Er – all right.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.’ He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

Honey, there's no easy answer that will take your pain away. Believe me, if I had one, I'd use it now. I have no magic wand to wave over you and make it all better. Life takes a bit of time and a lot of relationship.

Say what? There's no 'and he got naked and waved his magic wand?' 'Nope,' Connie said. 'No magic wand. She didn't get to see the wand.' 'Well, you know he got one,' Lula said. 'How come he didn't wave it and make her a happy princess?

I very nearly titled this book Stop Murdering the Henchmen after this trope. If I could wave a magic wand and remove a single BS lie from our annals of storytelling, it would be this one. This trope doesn’t just insult a population of the disabled. It doesn’t just discount the experiences of family members of loved ones suffering with a disease. This is a trope that kills real people in the real world, every day.   The

It felt like someone had waved a magic wand over my life, wiping out the mother I had known before. I wasn’t sure which one was the dream – the person she had been when Dad was living with us, or the one she was now.

Mel and Dani had no answers, no advice, no platitudes or reassurances that it would be okay. They knew as well as anyone that sometimes things were far from okay, and not every ending was a happy one. But they had love, and care and hugs and soft hands to stroke my hair, and somehow that felt even better than if they’d waved a magic wand and banished old Amy forever. I clung on to my friends’ strength, their unspoken promise to keep turning up if they were worried about me, breaking in if necessary. And I found hope there. So I sucked up their kindness, and as I applied some of that kindness to myself, it shrivelled my self-hate and shooed away my shame.

I urge you to think long and hard about prayer. How can it not be classified as a form of magical thinking? In many cases, even an attempt at conjuring? Folks who pray are usually earnest about it, thinking with all their might about messages they have for God. But how do the thoughts inside our heads—trapped there by our skulls—escape to be perceived by God? There are no known mechanisms by which that would work, just as there are no known ways by which the popular spells in the Harry Potter stories would work. Nobody even tries to explain how the Fairy God Mother in Cinderella, waving a wand, changes a pumpkin into a carriage—because that’s fantasy. Does prayer amount to waving a wand in our minds? The efficacy of prayer should not be off-limits for legitimate inquiry. Indeed, scientific studies of prayer have not yielded hoped-for results.

The magic wand of Celebrity was duly waved. I was no longer some scruffy little plebeian polluting the hallowed ground of the First Class Lounge, and George was transformed. ‘Miss Bresson! How delightful. Always a pleasure to have an artist in our midst…’ ‘Don’t be a star-fucker. Sparkling mineral water – please – then keep the hell out of my way.

Puck makes clear a particular point of etiquette, nonetheless. He objects to the word ‘fairy’ and always says ‘People of the Hills.’ “That's how I feel about saying- that word that I don't say. Besides, what you call them are made-up things the People of the Hills have never heard of- little buzzflies with butterfly wings and gauze petticoats, and shiny stars in their hair, and a wand like a schoolteacher's cane for punishing bad boys and rewarding good ones. I know 'em!... Can you wonder that the People of the Hills don't care to be confused with that painty-winged, wand-waving, sugar-and-shake-your-head set of impostors? Butterfly wings, indeed!... Butterfly-wings! It was Magic- Magic as black as Merlin could make it… That was how it was in the old days!

I’m not giving it to you. You need to leave. Be gone!” He snorted, tweaking an eyebrow at me. “Be gone? Okay, Merlin, are you going to wave your magic wand at me next?

2. The Ontological Argument Nothing greater than God can be conceived (this is stipulated as part of the definition of “God”). It is greater to exist than not to exist. If we conceive of God as not existing, then we can conceive of something greater than God (from 2). To conceive of God as not existing is not to conceive of God (from 1 and 3). It is inconceivable that God not exist (from 4). God exists. This argument, first articulated by Saint Anselm (1033–1109), the Archbishop of Canterbury, is unlike any other, proceeding purely on the conceptual level. Everyone agrees that the mere existence of a concept does not entail that there are examples of that concept; after all, we can know what a unicorn is and at the same time say, “Unicorns don’t exist.” The claim of The Ontological Argument is that the concept of God is the one exception to this generalization. The very concept of God, when defined correctly, entails that there is something that satisfies that concept. Although most people suspect that there is something wrong with this argument, it’s not so easy to figure out what it is. FLAW: It was Immanuel Kant who pinpointed the fallacy in The Ontological Argument—it is to treat “existence” as a property, like “being fat” or “having ten fingers.” The Ontological Argument relies on a bit of wordplay, assuming that “existence” is just another property, but logically it is completely different. If you really could treat “existence” as just part of the definition of the concept of God, then you could just as easily build it into the definition of any other concept. We could, with the wave of our verbal magic wand, define a trunicorn as “a horse that (a) has a single horn on its head, and (b) exists.” So, if you think about a trunicorn, you’re thinking about something that must, by definition, exist; therefore, trunicorns exist. This is clearly absurd: we could use this line of reasoning to prove that any figment of our imagination exists.

Loomis waved a hand and a squiggly trail of smoke followed like a magic wand. Loomis had a captivating subtlety and charm and was capable of more tricks than a sage in Pharaoh's court.

Assessment is the work of teachers. It is judgment. We wish we could wave a magic wand and free teachers from all formal assessment responsibilities so they could use their time working with students. However, as long as teachers are required to assess, it should be as nonintrusive as possible and not distract students from the learning process.

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.”   -Norman Vincent Peale (1898 - 1993) American clergyman & writer

All men have magic wands. A woman gets a babe after a man raises his wand and pokes her with it. If she feeds him first, she gets a boy, and, if she licks his wand first, she gets a girl.” Barwolf waved a hand in front of her, fanning her neck. “You do want babies, do you not?

When the Magician waves his magic wand to help you… rest assured he does it because you deserve it.

He started to say, “I have a lot of work—” just as Izzy walked in the front door, and his mouth fell open. Her hair had been swept up on one side, pinned back by a pink flower. Nothing too big. Just the right size to look kind of sexy. His gaze skimmed down over a pink sparkly dress that stopped mid-thigh—and she had the legs for it. Now, not only was he dealing with the fact that she wasn’t a kid anymore, he was seeing her as a gorgeous, sexy woman. It was as if someone had waved a magic wand and she’d changed overnight.

Nelson Knutson?” I nodded. “What kind of name is that? It sounds like something a magician would say . . . you know, like abracadabra.” “It does?” “Yeah. You know, I’m waving my magic wand and . . . Nelson Knutson! . . . there’s a rabbit in my hat!

That romance is nowhere as vividly encapsulated as in that moment when a pile of hard, almost odorless gray-green seeds is suddenly and magically transformed into the fragrant vehicle of our dreams, reveries, and conversation. To be the magicians waving the wand of transformation makes that metamorphosis all the more stirring and resonant.

The special please," she said, waving a coupon from the week's paper. "The young rejuvenating facial. I want to look thirty." "Mom," Jonathan said. "It's a facial, not a magic wand." She rolled up the paper and swatted him with it. "Fine, I'll take forty." She gave Lily a hug. "And you! How lovely to see you again!" She turned to Jonathan. "So... you can make me look forty, right?" "How about gorgeous?" Jonathan asked his mom. "Does gorgeous work for you?

She waves the match in the air like a magic wand and its flame transforms into a puff of smoke. The smoke curls and stretches into a halo around auntie's gray hair.

What sets your business and your expertise apart from your competitors? 2. What unique services do you provide for your clients that other experts don’t? 3. What are the top three goals for your business this year? 4. If you could wave a magic wand and change three things in your business right now, what would they be? 5. What are some challenges you are facing today in growing your business? 6. What areas do you need to focus on most to grow your business? 7. What is the long-term vision for your business and expertise?

your eyes are like a star diamond, and shine and shine and shine wave a magic wand, and disappear

In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.

For memories are magic, too. They are the wand the present waves over the past.

I had no dreams now. There was no magical feeling. And if there were a wizard, I would wish him to appear and wave his wand over me and ease me into a peaceful sleep, forever—never to return.

Which areas of the house cause you the most difficulties due to clutter and messiness? Write down the names of these rooms or areas. For each room, answer the following questions: What is your biggest problem with this room? What can you never find in this room? Have you tried to organize this room before? What were the results? What could you do differently this time to feel more successful? Do you have a lot of things you don’t need in this room, or do they just need to be grouped with similar items and stored more efficiently? Now that you know what needs to be fixed, it is time to create goals and deadlines for each room. If you could wave a magic wand and make this room exactly the way you wanted it to be, what would it look like? Would you have fewer items in the room? Would you add another piece of furniture for storage? The ideas you come up with are now your goals for the room. Next, decide on the steps and deadlines for each room. For example, one of your goals for your home office is to get rid of some of your books. Your goal, steps, and deadlines would look like this: Goal: Decrease the number of books in the home office.

We don’t have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free.

We don't have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it'll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free. It will ask for nothing in return. It will take a bow at our funeral and accept the accolades for a job well done and then it will disappear. Living is a little more complex. There's one thing we always have to do. Breathe. In and out, every single day in every hour minute and moment we must inhale whether we like it or not. Even as we plan to asphyxiate our hopes and dreams still we breathe. Even as we wither away and sell our dignity to the man on the corner we breathe. We breathe when we're wrong, we breathe when we're right, we breathe even as we slip off the ledge toward and early grave. It cannot be undone. So I breathe.

We don't have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it'll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it.

We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free. It will ask for nothing in return. It will take a bow at our funeral and accept the accolades for a job well done and then it will disappear.

We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it.

I am trying, but I can’t easily erase her from my heart with the wave of a magic wand. What I felt for Lana was deep. I still love her as much as I hate her.

I often say, if I could wave a magic wand, I would replace nearly all the politicians in Washington with small business entrepreneurs who have a passion for business.

You are thinking too much Roo. You are draining yourself. Some things are out of our reach. We cannot know everything. We cannot control everything. But we can control ourselves. Happiness is right within us. It is inside you! He did not wave a magic wand to make you happy. You were always happy. You made him happy and so he loved you. He loved you because you are so lovable. It is difficult not to love you. You are a cracker of happiness and fervour. And now strength! So better not lose either.