I don't know if I've ever derived such an immediate sense of calm and well-being from any book as I did from 'Right Ho, Jeeves.' It was like I was Pac-Man and the book was a power-up.

He who completes a quest does not merely find something. He becomes something.

It's a terrible thing for a book, when you feel like you're supposed to like it.

I think every fantasy reader secretly believes they know how magic works.

We're wired to expect the world to be brighter and more meaningful and more obviously interesting than it actually is. And when we realize that it isn't, we start looking around for the real world.

Magic: it was what happened when the mind met the world, and the mind won for a change.

I have no doubt there are magician psychopaths, and magician serial killers. I doubt Brakebills admissions is very good at screening for those.