Quotes About Worlds

A fountain brings us peace, joy and restful sensuality and reaches the epitome of its very essence when by its power to bewitch it will stir dreams of distant worlds.

I tell you, there are more worlds, and more doors to them, than you will think of in many years!

I must accept my fate! But how was life to be lived in a world of which I had all the laws to learn? There would, however, be adventure! that held consolation; and whether I found my way home or not, I should at least have the rare advantage of knowing two worlds!

Not for a moment had I been afraid. It is true that whoever would cross the threshold of any world, must leave fear behind him; but, for myself, I could claim no part in its absence. No conscious courage was operant in me; simply, I was not afraid. I neither knew why I was not afraid, nor wherefore I might have been afraid. I feared not even fear—which of all dangers is the most dangerous.

Now and then, when I look round on my books, they seem to waver as if a wind rippled their solid mass, and another world were about to break through.

We must remember that God is not occupied with a grand toy of worlds and suns and planets, of attractions and repulsions, of agglomerations and crystallizations, of forces and waves; that these but constitute a portion of his workshops and tools for the bringing out of righteous men and women to fill his house of love withal.

It means that language can make worlds that don't and could never exist.

And once again, there was a table and several worlds between them.

So this is it. This is the Great Escape. Is it wrong for us to want this? I keep thinking, if there are so many worlds, who decided which one to put us on? No one asked us what we wanted. Don't we have the right to look for something more? We'll be back; we know we can't stay away forever. But just for a while...just for a while.

History opens up new worlds to film-makers all the time.

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world's intrusion into this one. Most of the time we coexist peacefully, but when we do touch there's cataclysm.

Once upon a time, a little girl was raised by monsters. But angels burned the doorways to their world, and she was all alone.

The child was an invention of the seventeenth century; he did not exist in, say, Shakespeare's day. He had, up until that time, been merged in the adult world and there was nothing that could be called childhood in our sense. Today's child is growing up absurd, because he lives in two worlds, and neither of them inclines him to grow up. Growing up - that is our new work, and it is total. Mere instruction will not suffice.

There are other worlds. Other kinds of dreams. Dreams in which failure is feasible. Honourable. Sometimes even worth striving for. Worlds in which recognition is not the only barometer of brilliance or human worth.

They sensed somehow that she lived in the prenumbral shadows between two worlds, just beyond the grasp of their power. That a woman that they had already damned, now had little left to lose, and could therefore be dangerous. So on the days that the radio played Ammu's songs, people avoided her, making little loops around her, because everybody agreed that it was best to just Let Her Be.

We don't need other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. One world is enough, even there we feel stifled. We desire to find our own idealized image; they're supposed to be globes, civilizations more perfect than ours; in other worlds we expect to find the image of our own primitive past.

Noi cerchiamo solo l'uomo. Non abbiamo bisogno di altri mondi, abbiamo bisogno di specchi. Non sappiamo che cosa farcene di altri mondi. Uno ci basta, quello in cui sguazziamo.

The idea of panspermia-life propagating between worlds perhaps even between the stars goes back to the Greek philosopher Anaxagoras who as long as the fifth century imaged seeds of life spreading through the universe.

The challenge of detecting worlds beyond our bubble, because planets are small and faint compared to parent suns.

cuando llegue el momento, va a romper el cristal entre el mundo imaginario y el tuyo. Y solo sobrevivira un mundo

I think all worlds are magic. We just get used to it.

After all, there are other worlds than these and that fuckin train rolls through all of them.

Worlds which had trembled for a moment in their orbits now steadied, and in one of those worlds, in a desert that was the apotheosis of all deserts, a man named Roland turned over in his bedroll and slept easily once again beneath the alien constellations.

The Tower trembles; the worlds shudder in their courses. The rose feels a chill, as of winter.