This universal style of question could have as easily been put by the Ndembu shaman, where, procrastination by a family in bringing in a diviner, has resulted in the death of an ensorcelled kinsman.

Her father, the Lyon of Lambshold, has been reported dead, but when she and her companion Wolf arrive, they learn that he's barely alive, having been ensorcelled by the ai'Magi.

Still ensorcelled by the gods of consumption, we're stuck in a vast holding operation of the psyche.

It had ensorcelled a whiteman and diverted the economic benefits of logging to coastal big men in the same way as sorcery had always consolidated their power and wealth.

English racism against Africans has ensorcelled Ocol's mind: "He says we are all Kaffirs" (35), sending him back to his homeland self-hating and destructive of the very people he was raised to protect and guide:

Elfrida the witch has "ensorcelled" him, sending him to the Internet.

Such philosophers, refusing to recognize the postmodern semiotic revolution, are "sleepwalkers, as it were, now in an intellectual culture which can no longer avoid the Way of Signs, but ensorcelled in a circle of 'epistemology' and 'critical philosophy' determined not to see beyond itself, veritable zombies of philosophy."

Banks such Merrill Lynch, Bear Stearns, and Morgan Stanley, the three stars of Wall Street, were left to fall in the trap of toxic derivatives until they sank in them, as these banks were ensorcelled by their hunger for quick and high profits.

ensorcelled goddess, while the "great fool" Falstaff, as if

Petite and almond-eyed, hobbled by bound feet or legs wrapped tight in kimono, inculcated in ways to serve men, the Asian female ensorcelled. And if the man were a sailor, the climb up rickety stairs to boudoir would have sated pangs pent-up at sea: The stars that hang high over Shanghai Bring back the memory of a thrill.

The night before the quest for the Holy Grail is to begin, every adult in King Arthur's castle nods off into ensorcelled slumber.

When at Brown in the early eighties, I heard what I believe was a section of The Tunnel, I was ensorcelled; I recall floating in the sensual details of a boy's childhood, though I could not pinpoint which specific passages (perhaps a version of "The Sunday Drive" on 219 or thereabouts), but my impressions harbor a nostalgic intensity more suited to memories of one's own childhood than of a fictive one.

One winter night at a party, made bold by some Chablis, we snuggled, touched, groped, kissed -- and I remember being completely ensorcelled, enchanted.