Quotes About Wonder

Simple pleasures were all the pleasures that I knew as a child.

I remember as a kid seeing Pong in a pizza place where I grew up in Oxnard, California, and having my mind blown by it. I thought it was a TV. I thought it was just something playing on a television. But then to be able to manipulate the paddle, and the ball with the knob was, in those days, pretty huge to a little kid! It was a simpler time.

A child has no trouble believing the unbelievable, nor does the genius or the madman.

And even you, then, will wonder how you have such hope, and marvel at how impossible it is to stop the heart from reaching out into the whole world.

don't mind my asking?

My own brain is to me the most unaccountable of machinery—always buzzing, humming, soaring, roaring, diving, and then buried in mud. And why? What's this passion for? —Virginia Woolf

As the poet E. E. Cummings observed, "Always a more beautiful answer that asks a more beautiful question.

I believe in the goodness of imagination.

I wondered what it was like to be inside her, just a curl of flesh swimming in the darkness, the quiet things that had passed between us.

You put his brain in a bird, the bird would fly backwards -Secret Life of the Bees

When I looked up through the web of trees, the night sky fell over me, and for a moment, I lost my boundaries, feeling like the sky was my own skin and the moon was my heart beating up there in the dark.

There are things without explanation, moments when life will become arranged in such odd ways that you imagine a whole vocabulary of meaning inside them. The breakfast smell struck me like that.

I pulled out my bag and examined my mother's picture. I wondered what it had been like to be inside her, just a curl of flesh swimming in her darkness, the quiet things that had passed between us.

The way those bees flew, not even looking for a flower, just flying for the feel of the wind, split my heart down its seam.

He will use the word love, and the world will not stop spinning but go right on in its courses, like the river, like the bees, like everything. A person shouldn't look too far down her nose at absurdities. Look at me. I dived into one absurd thing after another, and here I am in the pink house. I wake up to wonder everyday.

What else do you love, Lily?" No one had ever asked me this before. What did I love?

I realized it for the first time: there is nothing but mystery in the world, how it hides behind the fabric of our poor, browbeat days, shining brightly, and we don't even know it.

The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.

To know exactly where you're headed may be the best way to go astray. Not all who loiter are lost.

the stethoscope in little David's ears. "Can you hear that?" I asked. "What do you suppose that is?" He frowned for a moment as if he were lost in the wonder of the strange tapping in his chest. Then he broke out in a grin and startled me by saying, "Is that Jesus knocking?

We're all yearning for a wedge of sky, aren't we?

and I'd be overcome by the little river of sparks that seemed to run beneath all that, the blood/sap/wine, aliveness, whatever it was. It had made me feel bereft over the immensity of the world, the extraordinary things people did with their lives- though, really, I didn't want to do any of those particular things. I didn't know then what I wanted, but the ache for it was palpable.

When I was nine, I discovered God's secret name: I Am Who I Am. I thought it was the truest, most wondrous name I'd ever heard.

Does this wild errant need fade, like the colour of eyes do?