Quotes About Wonder

a band of painted horses, all from that bright land that lingers for so long before it fades

I find you, Lord, in all Things and in all my fellow creatures, pulsing with your life; as a tiny seed you sleep in what is small and in the vast you vastly yield yourself. The wondrous game that power plays with Things is to move in such submission through the world: groping in roots and growing thick in trunks and in treetops like a rising from the dead.

Childhood is a land entirely independent of everything. The only land where kings exist. (Letters on Life)

Your task is to love what you don't understand.

And what matters is to live everything. Live the questions for now.

Don't you see how everything that happens is always a beginning again, and could it not be His beginning, given that beginnings are in themselves always so beautiful?

In later years it would sometimes happen that I'd wake up at night and see the stars so real in the sky and so meaningful in their course, and couldn't understand how anyone could bring themselves to miss so much of the world.

No fundo é esta a única coragem que se exige de nós: sermos corajosos diante do que é mais estranho, mais maravilhoso e mais inexplicável entre tudo com que nos deparamos.

Finally, after weeks of daily resistance, one finds oneself somewhat composed again, even though still a bit confused, and one says to oneself: No, there is not more beauty here than in other places, and all these objects, which have been marveled at by generation after generation, mended and restored by the hands of workmen, mean nothing, are nothing, and have no heart and no value; — but there is much beauty here, because everywhere there is much beauty

Unknowing before the heavens of my life/ I stand in wonder. O the great stars./ The rising and the going down. How quiet./ As if I didn't exist. Am I part? Have I dismissed/ the pure influence? Do high and low tide/ alternate in my blood according to this order?/ I will cast off all wishes, all other links,/ accustom my heart to its remotest space. Better/ it live in the terror of its stars than/ seemingly protected, soothed by something near.

If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and adore.

A friend may be nature's most magnificent creation.

But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and vulgar things.

Men love to wonder, and that is the seed of science.

Wherever snow falls, or water flows, or birds fly, wherever day and night meet in twilight, wherever the blue heaven is hung by clouds, or sown with stars, wherever are forms with transparent boundaries, wherever are outlets into celestial space, wherever is danger, and awe, and love, there is Beauty, plenteous as rain, shed for thee, and though thou shouldest walk the world over, thou shalt not be able to find a condition inopportune or ignoble.

The secret of poetry is never explained - is always new. We have not got farther than mere wonder at the delicacy of the touch, & the eternity it inherits. In every house a child that in mere play utters oracles, & knows not that they are such. 'Tis as easy as breath. 'Tis like this gravity, which holds the Universe together, & none knows what it is.

Music takes us out of the actual and whispers to us dim secrets that startles out wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto.

The wonder is that we can see these trees and not wonder more.

The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible

That which befits us, embosomed in beauty and wonder as we are, is cheerfulness, and courage, and the endeavor to realize our aspirations. Shall not the heart which has received so much, trust the Power by which it lives? May it not quit other leadings, and listen to the Soul that has guided it so gently, and taught it so much, secure that the future will be worthy of the past?

The word miracle, as pronounced by Christian churches, gives a false impression; it is a monster. It is not one with the blowing clover and the falling rain.

Do you think the porter and the cook have no anecdotes, no experiences, no wonders for you? The walls of their minds are scrawled all over with thoughts. They shall one day bring a lantern and read the inscriptions.

The frolic architecture of the snow.

Four snakes gliding up and down a hollow for no purpose that I could see - not to eat, not for love, but only gliding.