Quotes About Wonder

You know what, Harry, I don't think this is a garden at all! Genius.

I've even heard that they can bring people back from the dead." "Jesus," Butters swore. "I kinda doubt they had anything to do with that one.

Faced with an excess of beauty the mind can often only drink.

Birds are poems I haven't caught yet

children, those lucky ones to whom clocks are of no consequence but who drift along on the true emotional content of time.

How could all this happen when there was an ocean?

Everyone wishes a measure of mystery in their life that they have done nothing in particular to deserve.

I'm hoping to be astonished tomorrow by I don't know what: not the usual undiscovered bird in the cold snowy willows, garishly green and yellow What could it be, this astonishment, but falling into a liquid mirror to finally understand that the purpose of earth is earth? It's plain as night. She's willing to sleep with us a little while.

In 1958 a friend in San Francisco burned out his veins shooting up hot paregoric, a cheap high. It's safer for me to continue smoldering just below the temperature of actual flame wondering if there's a distant land where life freely flows like a river. Years ago in a high green pasture near timberline I watched a small black bear on its back rolling back and forth and shimmying to scratch its back, pawing the air with pleasure, not likely wanting to be anywhere or anyone else.

She awoke early and figured out the room coffeepot. She felt slowwitted and wondered if she was losing her mind, a concept she had always disagreed with. How could you lose your mind? It was always there though it could be in severe disrepair.

They merged again one evening sitting on the porch swing watching fireflies and the thousands of stars above them, idly moving the swing back and forth with their feet. The night was unbearably beautiful with the constellations speaking their own strange language to each other. He told her he thought it might be the uninvented language used by Jesus and the Buddha to speak to each other.

A modern man, I do not make undue connections though my heart wrenches daily against the unknowable, almighty throb and heave of the universe against my skin that sings a song for which we haven't quite found the words.

Built into both Calvinism and Catholicism is the implicit threat that anything truly wonderful should also make you feel guilty, especially the skin we were all born in.

The world, simply enough, became as beautiful as it does to many children waking on a summer morning.

The beauty of nature has been one of the great inspirations in my life.

The most sophisticated people I know--inside they're all children. We never really loose a certain sense we had when we were kids.

He had been born with a quivering bump of curiosity that stopped throbbing only when it was satisfied

We could have touched the stars. Instead, you brought them to us. We didn't have to seek the heavens when we had you here with us now.

If you don't feel any connection to the ocean, then ask yourself why your tears, blood and saliva contain about the same percentage of salt.

Tell them you came, and saw, and looked into my eyes and saw the shadow of the guard receding. Thoughts in time and out of season, the hitchinker stood by the side of the road and levelled his thumb in the calm calculus of reason. [...] Why does my mind circle around you? Why do planets wonder what it would be like to be you? All your soft wild promises were words, birds, endlessly in flight.

We came from over here, to over there Then told we wonder mindless to degree most seldom furls in slumber, burns begins a century.

Sector 7 by David Wiesner (Clarion, 1997)

A crowd of men stood in front of them. Of all ages, with expressions of sex-wonder in their eyes, gazing curiously as men who cannot solve a mystery that populates graveyards and through the ages has sent poets, popes, kings and fools to the junk heap.

Well, she's walking through the clouds, with a circus mind that's running wild.