Quotes About Celestial

The mass starts into a million suns; Earths round each sun with quick explosions burst, And second planets issue from the first.

We are made of starstuff.

We are all star stuff.

We ourselves are made of Stardust.

With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.

Cambridge... the place bowled me over. Leeds, where I had been born and brought up... but though I was not blind to its architectural splendours... I was famished for antiquity. I had never been in a place of such continuous and unfolding beauty as Cambridge and, December 1951 being exceptionally cold, the Cam was frozen and a thick hoarfrost covered every court and quadrangle giving the whole city an unreal and celestial beauty. And it was empty, as provincial places in those days were.

Turning the planet into what astrophysicists called a pocket nova.

Above, great constellations wheeled to which our bonfire sparks ascended in their tiny mimicry

The real stars don't even fascinate me as much as they used to when I was... younger." "I'm sorry for that, as well.

If in the after life there is not music, we will have to import it.

See the moon? It hates us.

We are made of stardust, our whole body consists of material that has been here before the beginning of time.

Brilhais como estrelas no Universo.

Interplanetary dust," I repeated, liking the feel of the words on my tongue.

the moon and stars, infinity

I don't know how many more times I have to say the word 'ethereal' to make people understand what the vibe of this wedding is.

Star people are rare.

Oh, Moon, lovely Moon, with thy beautiful face Careering throughout the boundaries of space Whenever I see thee, I think in my mind Shall I ever, oh ever, behold thy behind.

ANGELFOOD NNAA NNM NWNWNW V

Music is intangible and ephemeral, but it comes from the home world of the spirit, and though so fleeting, it is recognized by the spirit as a soul-speech fresh from the celestial realms, an echo from the home whence we are now exiled, and therefore it touches a cord in our being, regardless of whether we realize the true cause or not.

It is not known precisely where angels dwell whether in the air, the void, or the planets. It has not been God's pleasure that we should be informed of their abode.

Whether the angels play only Bach praising God, I am not quite sure. I am sure, however, that en famille they play Mozart.

Every beauty which is seen here by persons of perception resembles more than anything else that celestial source from which we all are come.

For a traveler going from any place toward the north, that pole of the daily rotation gradually climbs higher, while the opposite pole drops down an equal amount.