Linux Magic

        The seven eyes of Ningauble the Wizard floated back to his hood as he
reported to Fafhrd: "I have seen much, yet cannot explain all.  The Gray
Mouser is exactly twenty-five feet below the deepest cellar in the palace
of Gilpkerio Kistomerces.  Even though twenty-four parts in twenty-five of
him are dead, he is alive.
        "Now about Lankhmar.  She's been invaded, her walls breached
everywhere and desperate fighting is going on in the streets, by a fierce
host which out-numbers Lankhamar's inhabitants by fifty to one -- and
equipped with all modern weapons.  Yet you can save the city."
        "How?" demanded Fafhrd.
        Ningauble shrugged.  "You're a hero.  You should know."
                -- Fritz Leiber, "The Swords of Lankhmar"

        "Then what is magic for?" Prince Lir demanded wildly.  "What use is
wizardry if it cannot save a unicorn?"  He gripped the magician's shoulder
hard, to keep from falling.
        Schmendrick did not turn his head.  With a touch of sad mockery in
his voice, he said, "That's what heroes are for."
...
        "Yes, of course," he [Prince Lir] said.  "That is exactly what heroes
are for.  Wizards make no difference, so they say that nothing does, but
heroes are meant to die for unicorns."
                -- Peter Beagle, "The Last Unicorn"

There are those who claim that magic is like the tide; that it swells and
fades over the surface of the earth, collecting in concentrated pools here
and there, almost disappearing from other spots, leaving them parched for
wonder.  There are also those who believe that if you stick your fingers up
your nose and blow, it will increase your intelligence.
                -- The Teachings of Ebenezum, Volume VII

Unseen University had never admitted women, muttering something about
problems with the plumbing, but the real reason was an unspoken dread that
if women were allowed to mess around with magic they would probably be
embarrassingly good at it ...
                -- Terry Pratchett, "The Light Fantastic"

Using words to describe magic is like using a screwdriver to cut roast beef.
                -- Tom Robbins

        "Verily and forsooth," replied Goodgulf darkly.  "In the past year
strange and fearful wonders I have seen.  Fields sown with barley reap
crabgrass and fungus, and even small gardens reject their artichoke hearts.
There has been a hot day in December and a blue moon.  Calendars are made with
a month of Sundays and a blue-ribbon Holstein bore alive two insurance
salesmen.  The earth splits and the entrails of a goat were found tied in
square knots.  The face of the sun blackens and the skies have rained down
soggy potato chips."
        "But what do all these things mean?" gasped Frito.
        "Beats me," said Goodgulf with a shrug, "but I thought it made good
copy."
                -- Harvard Lampoon, "Bored of the Rings"

Watch Rincewind.

Look at him.  Scrawny, like most wizards, and clad in a dark red robe on
which a few mystic sigils were embroidered in tarnished sequins. Some might
have taken him for a mere apprentice enchanter who had run away from his
master out of defiance, boredom, fear and a lingering taste for
heterosexuality.  Yet around his neck was a chain bearing the bronze octagon
that marked him as an alumnus of Unseen University, the high school of magic
whose time-and-space transcendent campus is never precisely Here or There.
Graduates were usually destined for mageship at least, but Rincewind--after
an unfortunate event--had left knowing only one spell and made a living of
sorts around the town by capitalizing on an innate gift for languages.  He
avoided work as a rule, but had a quickness of wit that put his
acquaintances in mind of a bright rodent.
                -- Terry Pratchett, "The Colour of Magic"

What is a magician but a practising theorist?
                -- Obi-Wan Kenobi

What use is magic if it can't save a unicorn?
                -- Peter S. Beagle, "The Last Unicorn"

When I say the magic word to all these people, they will vanish forever.
I will then say the magic words to you, and you, too, will vanish -- never
to be seen again.
                -- Kurt Vonnegut Jr., "Between Time and Timbuktu"