Quotes About Wonder

That is also an idiom." Wilem grumbled. "Your language is thick with nonsense. I wonder how any of you understand each other. How is everything going? Going where?" He shook his head.

Looking up, I saw her and all I could think was, beautiful. Beautiful.

You are too good for me," I said. "You are a luxury I cannot afford. Despite this, I insist you come with me today. I will buy you dinner and spend hours waxing rhapsodic over the vast landscape of wonder that is you.

Es música mágica? -preguntó con los ojos como platos. Volví a reír. -Hay gente que lo cree.

One story even mentioned rainbows. Who would write that? Why make a child terrified of rainbows?

La dulce sonrisa de una mujer joven: no hay nada mejor en el mundo. Es más valiosa que la sal. Sin ella, algo enferma y muere dentro de nosotros. Estoy seguro. Una cosa tan simple. Qué raro. Qué maravilloso y qué raro. Penthe

It was like cool water on my dry, tired heart. The sweet smile of a young woman. There is nothing better in the world. It is worth more than salt. Something in us sickens and dies without it. I am sure of this. Such a simple thing. How strange. How wonderful and strange.

Wilem snorted. "That doesn't sound suspicious at all," he said. "And you wonder why people talk about you." "I don't wonder why they talk," I said. "I wonder what they say.

I walked across the polished marble floor and sat on a red velvet lounging couch. I idly wondered how exactly one was supposed to lounge. I couldn't remember ever doing it myself. After a moment's consideration, I decided lounging was probably similar to relaxing, but with more money in your pocket. Restless,

Auri's heart beat faster then. It had been ages since she'd come on somewhere wholly new. A place that dared to be entirely itself.

information." She tilted her head quizzically. "By the way,

In what manner was she beautiful? I realize that I cannot say enough. So. Since I cannot say enough, at least I will avoid saying too much. "Say

There is nothing quite so delightfully mysterious as a secret in your own backyard. We

stories were told here, but they happened somewhere else.

Magic isn't just fun, it's an adventure. Then again, so's falling off a cliff.

But the boy was not cheated by her ignorance. He was not intensely interested in answers, the things themselves were enough. So he ran on, holding the leaf by its twig, or feather by its quill, and whereas his mother thought mostly of arriving, discovery kept him in a state of endless being.

The mind of a child is like a kiss on the forehead — open and disinterested

Holding onto the naive belief that travel will open.

Those were mystical times. An era of small pleasures.

The child, mystified by the commonplace, moves effortlessly into the strange..

How wonderful it would be to meet an angel, I mused, but then I immediately realised I already had. Not an archangel like Saint Michael, but my human angel from Detroit, wearing an overcoat and no hat, with lank brown hair and eyes the coler of water.

May the world's small things fill her with delight.

He is overcome with the disease of love, the drunkenness of generations past. When are we ourselves, he wonders, trudging through the snow-covered banks, his coat illuminated by moon-light.

We were as Hansel and Gretel and we ventured out into the black forest of the world. There were temptations and witches and demons we never dreamed of and there was splendor we only partially imagined.