Quotes About Wonder

From some infinite distance, ten thousand twists of light are suddenly projected into your eyes. You watch as they shimmer and tighten together like the hooks of metal in a tangle of barbed wire. More and more of them appear, filling in the gaps one by one, and soon you are conscious of nothing else. What would the sky be like if there was nothing to see but stars? You know that you will not experience anything so beautiful again.

It was a truth that invaded her, like a dark disease, a truth too painful to talk about. And I was beginning to wonder if all I was doing was making it worse.

Something will catch your attention and give you a reason to smile.

Can your heart swoop? That's what Billy wondered. In th first minutes on the porch with Papa when everyone was hugging and kissing and talking at once, that's what it felt like - it felt like Billy's heart was swooping inside him.

There was something wonderful - something potent even - about a present before it's unwrapped. Especially an unexpected one. Anything could be inside.

Imagination is biblical reasoning in its Sunday best, lost in wonder at the creativity of the Creator. Being

It's always cool to meet people who can do things that you have no capacity to do.

You're beautiful, lovely, wonderfully unique. Don't spend your energy on being upset, spend it on being a glowing star in happy wonders. Because you are a star, even in the darkest moments, your glow is impervious.

Re-visioning the ordinary is what art, literature, and comedy do.You can elevate mundane details into magical wonders simply by noticing them.

if Earth is reduced to the size of a bacteria, and inspected under high-powered optics, would it seem stranger than a virus?

magic is indistinguishable from sufficiently advanced technology.

It never ceased to cause him wonder, that here had been a living person and now she was gone, fading away again, the city waking up without her as if she'd never been there. It was an incredible thing, beyond comprehension, as incredible as being there in the first place.

Quite a sight," Mary finally said, and I felt like maybe she was sincere, that we were something to behold.

A wicked child is the most beautiful thing in the world.

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.

Will once said each galaxy has about a hundred billion stars. He said that ninety-eight percent of what exists around us we can't even see. Sometimes I let go and float out there, staring back at earth. I lose track of time. Will told me to forget time, that it was relative. He said light was the thing. At the speed of light, time stands still. It's the wild card. It makes things happen. (The Speed of Light)

He says there are millions of stars, Raba. Millions.

What would it have been like to live back then, when stories colored the world and even the sky listened?

It was a wonder a period of history so full of people having their heads chopped off could be made to seem so blindingly dull.

Sometimes I marvel at the extras God provides. He meets our needs, yes, but so much more. He did not have to make the world a bright, colorful place of beauty. He could have simply provided the things our bodies require to survive. But He also chose to feed our souls. He designed flowers, singing birds, and even little furry barking creatures that pop out of holes and make us laugh. And He created a sky that begins and ends each day with a show of color.

I think, Lillian, that when we do not pause to admire God's wonderful handiwork in putting this world together, we disappoint Him. Surely He must delight in our wonder when we delight in His creation.

The Mozart sonata Dad picked out begins to play. When we hear the first note, we open the sacks and the ladybugs escape through the opening, taking flight. It's as if someone has dumped rubies from heaven. Soon they will land on the plants in search of bollworm eggs. But right now they are magic-red ribbons flying over our heads, weaving against the pink sky, dancing up there with Mozart.

Zachary smiles, and I wonder if he's felling different. Because standing out here waist deep in Gossimer Lake, next to my best friend, I'm feeling different-light and good and maybe even holy.

Sometimes, lying out on Aunt Ivy and Uncle Holt's back lawn, it'd felt as if I could stretch out my arms and my fingertips and rake them across the underside of the heavens and end up with a fistful of stars.