There must come a time when the bullets will run out

I was told once by some country people that a magician should never tell his dreams because the telling will make them come true. But I say that is great nonsense.

To be more precise it was the color of heartache.

But when the fairy sang the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy’s song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself.

..The argument he was conducting with his neighbor as to whether the English magician had gone mad because he was a magician, or because he was English.

I know magicians and I know magic and I say this: all magicians lie and this one more than most.

He hardly ever spoke of magic, and when he did it was like a history lesson and no one could bear to listen to him.