Quotes About Appreciation

It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.

they were able to see the pink bars of light on the snowy banks of Himmel Street's rooftops. "Look at the colors," Papa said. It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.

I however, try to enjoy every color I see the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, none of them quite the same.

Nije to neka velika stvar, ali valjda je stvarno istina – velike stvari tek su male stvari koje ljudi zamje?uju.

Only when she got up to leave did she notice the three imitation-gold medals sitting next to her. She knocked on the Steiners' door and held them out to him. "You forgot these." "No, I didn't." He closed the door and Liesel took the medals home. She walked with them down to the basement and told Max about her friend Rudy Steiner.

It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true— big things are often just small things that are noticed.

A SMALL THEORY People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.

È impeccabile il modo in cui la verità può essere brutale, a volte. Non si può che ammirarla.

No one had ever given her music before.

It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.

In mid-February, when she turned ten, Liesel was given a used doll that had a missing leg and yellow hair. "It was the best we could do," Papa apologized. "What are you talking about? She's lucky to have that much," Mama corrected him.

Intanto che i bambini ballano nel giardino, sotto il cielo della notte e sotto le luci di Natale, noto qualcosa. Lua e Marie si stanno tenendo per mano. Sembrano così felici, in questo istante, mentre osservano i loro figli, e le luci sulla vecchia casa di eternit. Lua bacia Marie. Un bacio delicato, sulle labbra. Marie ricambia. A volte, le persone sono belle. Non per l'aspetto. Non per quello che dicono. Semplicemente, per quello che sono.

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.

It's impeccable how brutal the truth can be at times. You can only admire it. Usually

I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything. They look like they're so happy, just inside this moment, watching the kids and the lights on their old fibro house. Lua kisses her. Just softly on the lips. And she kisses back. Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.

Un regard d'argent, empreint de bonté. D'argent en train de fondre. En le voyant, elle eut conscience de la valeur de Hans Huvermann

Look at the colors, Papa said. It's hard not to like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.

Primero los colores. Luego los humanos. Así es como acostumbro a ver las cosas. O, al menos, así intento verlas.

MÄ›la narozeniny, ale dárek dala ona mÄ›.

Much of my crying is for joy and wonder rather than for pain. A trumpet's wailing, a wind's warm breath, the chink of a bell on an errant lamb, the smoke from a candle just spent, first light, twilight, firelight. Everyday beauty. I cry for how life intoxicates. And maybe just a little for how swiftly it runs.

You rob time, Fernando. How arrogant you are, taking an evening like this one as though it were some sour cherry, spitting half its flesh into the dirt. Every time you pitch yourself back into the past, you lose time. Have you so much of it to spare, my love?

There is an impression abroad that literary folk are fast readers. Wine tasters are not heavy drinkers. Literary people read slowly because they sample the complex dimensions and flavors of words and phrases. They strive for totality not lineality. They are well aware that the words on the page have to be decanted with the utmost skill. Those who imagine they read only for content are illusioned.

A Husband should always like his wife's cooking BEST. in Sarah's Gift

It comes from looking at the heart of things, from stopping to smell not only the roses but the bushes as well. It is a quality of attention to ordinary life that is so loving and intimate it is almost worship.