No wizard has ever made himself useful by magic, or, if…

The trouble with magic is that there's too much it just can't fix. When things go wrong, glimpsing junkyard faerie and crows that can…

— Charles de Lint

She gazed toward the marsh that grew thicker, deeper, greener with approaching summer. Mosquitoes whined in there, breeding in the dark water. Alligators slid…

— Nora Roberts

There are few places in England where you can get so much wildness and desolation of sea and sandhills, wood, green marsh and grey…

— William Henry Hudson

And I needed a rock. Something to hold onto, to stand on. Something solid. Because everything was going soft, turning into mush, into marsh,…

— Ursula K. Le Guin

Everyone loves his own country, customs, language, wife, children, not because they are the best in the world, but because they are his established…

— Johann Gottfried Herder

It cannot but affect our philosophy favorably to be reminded of these shoals of migratory fishes, of salmon, shad, alewives, marsh-bankers, and others, which…

— Henry David Thoreau

Believing is a fine thing, but placing those beliefs into execution is a test of strength. Many are those who talk like the roar…

— Khalil Gibran

Science keeps religion from sinking into the valley of crippling irrationalism and paralyzing obscurantism. Religion prevents science from falling into the marsh of obsolete…

— Martin Luther King, Jr

I was glamorous because of magicians like George Folsey, James Wong Howe, Oliver Marsh, Ray June, and all those other great cinematographers. I trusted…

— Myrna Loy

Thus I began my systematic though half-bewildered tour of Innsmouth's narrow, shadow-blighted ways. Crossing the bridge and turning toward the roar of the lower…

— H. P. Lovecraft

It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of robins, catbirds, doves, jays, wrens, and…

— Rachel Carson

As the Arabs say, "The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.

— Anthony de Mello

One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the…

— Anonymous

I read a lot of ghost stories because I was writing a ghost story. I didn't think at all I was writing a horror…

— Susan Hill

There, in the center of that silence was not eternity but the death of time and a loneliness so profound the word itself had…

— Toni Morrison