enchantment

It is the dim haze of mystery that adds enchantment to pursuit.

Someone is pounding on a door within you and hoping for an answer. They want to tell us the secret tale of ourselves. The stories we__e never told. Some African tribes believe if you were to tell someone your entire story the audience would actually become you. From then on, the only life the teller would have would be in and through the listener. Some believe this is the relationship between Jesus and his disciples. How I wished for my story to be blemish free. How I wished to be a good-natured soul giving back to the world, regardless of how broken I was. In the end, it__ those things we are willing to die to change that sculpt our story. Some people open the floodgates of their minds and hearts so memories burst forth like water through a breached dam. Pieces of our lives can be found among the floating wreckage, and somewhere, the presence of God hovers over the surface of the deep. Inside, I am treading, biding my time, waiting for the magic I thought I owned as a child. Many seek this enchantment. I sought my wife, daughter and the power to conjure hope.

The enchanted day is only enchanted if we ourselves believe that anything is possible.

Sweet Jesus," he whispered, trailing kisses along the line of her jaw. "Our excavation must have freed some deep, dark ancient enchantment from the earth. How else to explain this magic?

I wanted to find something of the beauty of myth that we__e left behind, carry its shreds before us all, so we could acknowledge it, somehow bring it back to life. I wanted to delve back into that world that cradled us when we were young enough to still touch it, when trolls lived under creek bridges, faeries fluttered under mushroom caps, and the Tooth Fairy only came once you were truly sleeping. I wanted to see if enchantment was somehow still there, simply waiting to be reached. When I felt my loss, I realized that if I could do anything in this life, I wanted to travel he world, searching for those who were still awake in that old dreamtime, and listen to their stories _ because I had to know that there were grownups out there who still believed that life could be magical.And in that moment I decided: I am going to find the goddamn faeries.

Look closely Jane. This is Majesty Park, the city of wonder. Here you are free to dream dreams and follow them wherever they may take you.

Forthwith I crush this acid lemonFreeing myself of the malefic venomHither I let thee rottenLet my curse be forgotten.

It is important to view a recipe book as one that you use daily and what we in our family call "a living book" _ a book that you use all the time, not just read once and discard on the shelf. It is in a sense a spell book, a book of magical enchantments, to be consulted, used and altered as needed.

If you still believe in magic, you're subject to enchantment.

Yes, he knew it was crazy to be this obsessed over an encounter that had taken up maybe sixty seconds of his life. (Or had it been an hour and sixty seconds?) But what an encounter. His fingers still felt the bones and flesh through her sweater, his tongue still tasted her mysterious bitter-greens mouth, her voice still haunted him with that whispered 'Help me.

I had the most beautiful dream, and then I fell asleep in your arms and my dream turned lovelier still.

Enchantment lies in everyday moments if you are observant.

To reach only for that which pleasantly enchants you is the least of imagination, if even imagination at all, by the obvious reality of remaining within your means. The greater of imagination is parallel to risk. It extends beyond your comfort zone or haven, or sense of beauty, or what you personally believe suits you in exploration of what may not.

Truly, there is magic in fairy

We wait, starving for moments of high magic to inspire us, but life is full of common enchantment waiting for our alchemists eyes to notice.

The bridge between the words glamour and grammar is magic. According to the OED, glamour evolved through an ancient association between learning and enchantment.

Without knowing why or how, I found myself in love with this strange Wanderess. Maybe I was just in love with the dream she was selling me: a life of destiny and fate; as my own life up until we met had been so void of enchantment. Those things: mystery, fate, enchantment... they are things that young people offer us as soon as we get close to them. And if we're not careful, we can be seduced by, and drawn back into, the youthful world they preside over.

Now, back in the reality that always lies in wait among the shadows of the Ensanche quarter, the enchantment was lifting, and all I had was painful desire and an indescribable restlessness.