Quotes About Creation

I like to think of home as a verb, something we keep recreating.

How does a copy become more than a copy? Is art the creation of something new and original, or simply the continuous enlargement, or the distillation, of an observation that came before

How does a copy become more than a copy? Is art the creation of something new and original, or simply the continuous enlargement, or the distillation, of an observation that came before? What answer would my father give?

His sonata for piano and violin, he first piece of music he had written in twenty-three years, was finished, he could not do more. He made a clean copy, isnged his name and wrote the date, May, 27, 1989, and the title, The Sun Shines on the People's Square. He put the copy in an envelope to send to Kai. [...] He saw himself walking out of the room, this alleyway, this city, without turning back. The following morning, he put on his uniform and returned to work

We were like gods at the dawning of the world, & our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but the other.

You make the rarest canvas, love

I could not make him a god," she says. Her jagged voice, rich with grief. /But you made him./

Divine blood purified our muddy race, bred heroes from dust and clay.

I cannot bear this world a moment longer. Then, child, make another.

Let me say what sorcery is not: it is not divine power, which comes with a thought and a blink. It must be made and worked, planned and searched out, dug up, dried, chopped and ground, cooked, spoken over, and sung.

I thought: I cannot bear this world a moment longer. Then, child, make another.

Do you always make beautiful things for those you are angry with?

I was giddy feeling his first kicks and I spoke to him every moment, as I crushed my herbs, as I cut clothes for his body, wove his cradle out of rushes. I imagined him walking beside me, the child and boy and man that he would be.

I could have sat and worked awhile, but the change of hands would show in the cloth.

We were like gods at the dawning of the world, and our joy was so bright we could see nothing else but each other

Come, make us into magic.

After I was born - and maybe that is not the right word, but if not, then I don't know what is. Woke? Hatched? No, that is worse. I am not an egg. I will say born.

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.6

I am a little world made cunningly.

Because she bears the image of God. She doesn't have to conjure it, go get it from a salon, have plastic surgery or breast implants. No, beauty is an essence that is given to every woman at her creation.

Your feminine heart has been created with the greatest of all possible dignities—as a reflection of God's own heart.

God's version of flowers and chocolates and candlelight dinners comes in the form of sunsets and falling stars, moonlight on lakes and cricket

Touch nature. I'm serious—every day, your soul needs to engage creation.

Beauty speaks of heaven to come, when all shall be beautiful. It haunts us with eternity. Beauty says, There is a glory calling to you. And if there is a glory, there is a source of glory. What great goodness could have possibly created this? What generosity gave us this to behold? Beauty draws us to God.