Quotes on Enchantment

To the one who knows how to look and feel, every moment of this free wandering life is an enchantment.

If a man knows the law, find out, though he live in a pine shanty, and resort to him. And if a man can pipe or sing, so as to wrap the imprisoned soul in an elysium; or can paint a landscape, and convey into souls and ochres all the enchantments of Spring or Autumn; or can liberate and intoxicate all people who hear him with delicious songs and verses; it is certain that the secret cannot be kept; the first witness tells it to a second, and men go by fives and tens and fifties to his doors.

You and I have need of the strongest spell that can be found to wake us from the evil enchantment of worldliness.

From the very fountain of enchantment there arises a taste of bitterness to spread anguish amongst the flowers.

We were born with a natural tendency to focus on love. Our imaginations were creative and flourishing, and we knew how to use them. We were connected to a richer world, a world full of enchantment and a sense of the miraculous. What happened?

Speculation is the romance of trade, and casts contempt upon on all its sober realities. It renders the stock-jobber a magician, and the exchange a region of enchantment.

This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.

Stories are the only enchantment possible, for when we begin to see our suffering as a story, we are saved.

She was here on earth to make sense of its wild enchantments.

People who mattered could not take the humdrum world. But this was not the world, it was enchantment; and all of it was mine.

He’s gone, Harry told himself. He’s gone. He had to keep thinking it as he washed and dressed, as though repetition would dull the shock of it. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. And that was the simple truth of it, Harry knew, because their protective enchantments meant that it would be impossible, once they vacated this spot, for Ron to find them again.

It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself. But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple.

Distance lends enchantment to the view.

Language upon a silvered tongue affords enchantment enough.