Quotes About Wonder

Why me?' I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

She was one if the few souls that made me wonder what's it to live.

and the night is so deep and dark that I wonder if the sun will ever come up.

Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

It's about glowing lights and small things that are big.

Can a wolfe be beautiful?

From a Himmel Street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.

The stars set fire to my eyes.

moon was sewn into the sky that night. Clouds were stitched around it.

The moon was sewn into the sky that night

If you feel like it, come with me. I will tell you a story. I'll show you something.

Around six-thirty, Rory was across the street, leaning against a telegraph pole, smiling just for laughs; the world was filthy, and so was he. After a short search, he pulled a long strand of girls' hair from his mouth. Whoever she was, she was out there somewhere, she lay open-legged in Rory's head. A girl we'll never know, or see.

How do you give someone a piece of sky?

Sometimes, I imagined how everything appeared above those clouds, knowing without question that the sun was blond, and the endless atmosphere was a giant blue eye.

ducking around twisted trees whose fingers are branches spread like cracked ceilings under gray sky.

the moon was sewn into the sky that night. Clouds were stitched around it.

Las intrigas que nos empujan hasta el final son las que me inquietan, me desconciertan, me pican la curiosidad y me asombran. Quedan muchas cosas en las que pensar. Queda mucha historia.

Why me?" I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

She was one of the few souls that made me wonder what it was to live.

There were great big shrugs of breath of him...

I don't have much interest in building mystery. Mystery bores me. It chores me. I know what happens and so do you. It's the machinations that wheel us there that aggravate, perplex, interest, and astound me.

Many jocular comments followed, as did another onslaught of Heil Hitlering. You know, it actually makes me wonder if anyone ever lost an eye or injured a hand or wrist with all of that. You'd only need to be facing the wrong way at the wrong time, or stand marginally too close to another person.

When she came to write her story, she would wonder exactly when the books and the words stated not just to mean something, but everything.

El misterio me aburre, es una lata. [...] Las intrigas que nos empujan hasta el final son las que me inquietan, me desconciertan, me pican la curiosidad y me asombran. Quedan muchas en las que pensar. Queda mucha historia.