“I love you." Why it worked right then, why the webbing of my godmother's spell frayed as though the words had been an open flame, I don't know. I haven't found any explanation for it. There aren't any magical words, really. The words just hold the magic. They give it a shape and a form, they make it useful, describe the images within. I'll say this, though: Some words have a power that has nothing to do with supernatural forces. They resound in the heart and mind, they live long after the sounds of them have died away, they echo in the heart and the soul. They have power, and that power is very real. Those three words are good ones.”

“There aren't any magical words, really. Words just hold the magic.”

“Why certainly, words possess power.  They do!  But releasing their magic requires combining and arranging those words in the right order.”

“Magic is a kind of energy. It is given shape by human thoughts and emotions, by imagination. Thoughts define that shape—and words help to define those thoughts. That’s why wizards usually use words to help them with their spells. Words provide a sort of insulation as the energy of magic burns through a spell caster’s mind.”

“You think I'm with you out of guilt?""No, you ass. Of course not. I just mean—""You're a nut, MacAllister. I'm with you because I love you."There it was, out. Three little words. Three of the most common words in the world, but string them together and they were more powerful than any warrant, any extradition papers, or even treaty. Stronger than any magical spell. Had he really never said them aloud to Taylor?”

“The only source of my power are the pages you hold and the words written thereon. As you read them, I hope the magic starts to work between my words and your imagination.”