Practical Magic (Practical Magic, #1)

by Alice Hoffman

the moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun always longs for something dark and deep.

What had she thought, that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, just to play with? Real love was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn’t let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.

Goodness, in their opinion, was not a virtue but merely spinelessness and fear disguised as humility.

sometimes the right thing felt all wrong until it was over and done with.

Sometimes, running away means you’re headed in the exact right direction.

Trouble is just like love, after all; it comes in unannounced and takes over before you’ve had a chance to reconsider, or even to think.

But love was not about practice and preparation, it was pure chance; if you took your time with it you ran the risk of having it evaporate before it had even begun.

Pride is a funny thing; it can make what is truly worthless appear to be a treasure. As soon as you let go of it, pride shrinks to the size of a fly, but one that has no head, and no tail, and no wings with which to lift itself off the ground.

She knows now that when you don’t lose yourself in the bargain, you find you have double the love you started with, and that’s one recipe that can’t be tampered with.

Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.