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“My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice.”
― J.K. Rowling, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: The Original Screenplay

“I know it is something of a cliche to say that love makes all things possible, but I believe it does. It is not a magic wand that can be waved over life to make it all sweet and lovely and trouble free, but it can give the energy to fight the odds and win.”
― Mary Balogh, Simply Magic

“Most druids fall into two groups: sticks or stones. Wood has some wonderful properties, but it has a tendency to react too much with the user for my particular taste. Because they retain some of their own innate essence, using wands becomes almost a partnership. You have to be very nature-oriented to use them to their best advantage.”
― Mark Del Franco, Unshapely Things

“Rosy ferried the drinks back to the table, slid the Guinness his way. “You said you have a show. Is it a comedy?â€�
“No, but you will laugh, I hope, after hearing my qualifications.� His eyes glittered. “I do magic, with a twist. The twist is, my clothes are the first thing to disappear.�
Rosy gaped.
“Yes. I do magicâ€� naked. I not only have a big ego.â€� Marek wiggled his middle finger. “I have a big wand.”
― R.G. Manse, Screw Friendship

“I resolved to make the fullest use of the power within me and describe as with a magic wand the circles within which all life around me should dance for my delight.”
― E.T.A. Hoffmann, The Devil's Elixirs

“Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"
The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“When the Magician waves his magic wand to help youâ€� rest assured he does it because you deserve it.”
― Sameh Elsayed

“Every day I sit and watch random people holding the wands with the power that can turn the world either into a graveyard or into a paradise and yet roam around without believing in the magic that it possesses. And in the end, they throw it into the stash and burn it like it is nothing.”
― Akshay Vasu, The Abandoned Paradise: Unraveling the beauty of untouched thoughts and dreams

“I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."
He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..."
"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."
Harry swallowed.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember.... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter.... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

“Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box out of a bag and opening it. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.
"Hmmm..." he said.
He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.
"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron... then he remembered that Ron wasn't speaking to him.
"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."
Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideus!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition.... You treat it regularly?"
"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

“Not sure about her but I surely used the magic wand to get her.”
― Nitya Prakash

“Chiara gasped as her mentor passed her the wand, and a small star appeared at its tip. It should have warmed Chiara's heart to see it, but she could barely muster a smile.
"The reception of a fairy's wand is often a bittersweet occasion. Let that be a reminder for you that magic can bring great joy as well as sorrow, hope as well as fear. May you use yours to shine light upon darkness."
"I will," Chiara vowed.
As soon as the words left her lips, the star on her wand came aglow and a pair of iridescent wings bloomed from her back.
"What name will you take, Chiara Belmagio?"
The answer was one she had toyed with ever since she'd considered the fairies' invitation. "The Blue Fairy."
Blue was the color that brought her joy. The color of the walls of the music room where she and Ilaria had spent countless hours laughing and chasing each other and making music; the color of her father's eyes, like hers; the color of the sea where she and Niccolo took their little boat out when the weather was fair.
Her dress shimmered with stardust. The pale color deepened into a warm and rich blue, and the fabric softened into gossamer silk. The threads stitched themselves into a gown worthy of a good fairy, turning her long sleeves into iridescent swaths of starlight. A beautiful yet understated uniform. Perfect for the new fairy.
Only the ribbon she wore in her hair was the same as before. A reminder of Chiara Belmagio, daughter of Pariva.”
― Elizabeth Lim, When You Wish Upon a Star