P • "By five-thirty the show has pulled out. Nothing is left but an unreal blue and a few banked clouds low in the north. Some sort of carnival magi cian has been here, some fast-talking worker of wonders who has the act backwards. 'Something in this hand,' he said, 'something in this hand, something up my sleeve, something behind my back . . .' and abracadabra, he snaps his fingers, and it's all gone. Only the blank, blank-faced magician remains, in his unruffled coat, bare handed, acknowledging a smattering of baffled applause. When you look again the whole show has pulled up stakes and moved on down the road. It never stops. New shows roll in from over the mountains and the magician reappears unannounced from a fold in the curtain you never dreamed was an opening. Scarves of clouds, rabbits in plain view, disappear into the black hat forever. Presto chango. The audience, if there is an audience at all, is dizzy from head-turning, dazed." -- Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (1974) • "[W]hen they looked through [the spectacles] the little rabbit children saw that everything was dark, and gloomy, and dreary, and even the sun seemed to be behind a cloud. Oh, it was as cold and unpleasant as it is just before a snowstorm. 'No wonder you were cross!' cried the fairy. 'But I will soon fix matters! Presto-chango! Ring around the rosey, sweet tobacco posey!' she cried, and then she rubbed first one pink finger on one glass, and then another pink finger on the other glass of the spectacles. And a most wonderful thing happened, she smiled as she held the glasses up in front of Sammie and Susie, and as true as I'm telling you, if everything wasn't as bright and shining as a new tin dishpan. Oh, everything looked lovely! The flowers were gay, and the sun shone, and even the green grass was sort of pink, while the sky was rose-colored." -- Howard R. Garis, Sammie and Susie Littletail (1910) • "Munching a mouthful of fish, he tries to remember that thing about magic. What did he think? It seemed clever at the time. He is a bit befuddled but if he tries hard . . . He doesn't want to lose his audience now. 'Magic, it's like this, see.' He picks up the package of pigments and fumbles open the string. 'Here's these lumps of colors . . . my master -- hey presto! -- he turns them into trees, into beautiful ladies . . .' Inside, there is an onion. He has opened the wrong parcel. He chuckles. 'Hey presto, it's an onion!'" -- Deborah Moggach, Tulip Fever (1999) Protection The magic word 'protection' Will banish all dejection -- L. Frank Baum, "When McKinley Gets the Chair, Boys" (1896) Origins: Protection is of Latin origin, meaning "covered in front."