Quotes About Creation

She had debated, in the frivolity of the beginning, whether to build a hole or a tower; a hole, because she was fond of hobbits, or a tower — well, a tower for many reasons, but chiefly because she liked spiral staircases.

platypuses irresistible proof that God likes a joke as much as anyone else. 'A platypus is intrinsically much less likely than a unicorn or a sea serpent.

the first Goddess, Gaia, who was the earth, wide hipped, big bellied, the womb of the human race, the nurturing breast of all humans, the opulent and voracious beginning of all things female.

Isn't the Almighty always saying something, girl? Speaking through everything created, whispering in your hopes and dreams. Urging you to get on with business?

You have a mother?" Only when I said it did I realize what a silly question it was! For heaven's sake! Gideon raised one eyebrow. "What did you expect?" he asked, amused. "You thought I was an android put together by Uncle Falk and Mr. George?

You have a pet theory, one you have been turning over for years, that life itself is a kind of Rube Goldberg device, an extremely complicated machine designed to carry out the extremely simple task of constructing your soul.

A dictionary contains all the books ever written, and all the books that will ever be written.

Lif and Lifthrasir will have children. Their children will have children. There will be life and new life, life everywhere on earth. That was the end; and this is the beginning.

Ymir was a frost giant; he was evil from the first. While he slept, he began to sweat. A man and woman grew out of the ooze under his left armpit, and one of his legs fathered a son on the other leg.

The rivers that sprang from Hvergelmir streamed into the void. The yeasty venom in them thickened and congealed like slag, and the rivers turned into ice.

Ymir's body is divided so that everything, even his eyebrows, were used in the creation of the world; the four dwarfs who hold up the sky; the wolves that chase the sun and moon; the giant's eyes that are tossed up into heaven and turned into stars: these and a host of other particulars become narrative elements within the cycle.

Not only did we fail to imagine what the web would become, we still don't see it today. We are oblivious to the miracle it has blossomed into. Twenty years after its birth the immense scope of the web is hard to fathom. The total number of web pages, including those that are dynamically created upon request, exceeds 60 trillion. That's almost 10,000 pages per person alive. And this entire cornucopia has been created in less than 8,000 days.

Separate the processes of creating from improving. You can't write and edit or sculpt and polish or make and analyze at the same time. If you do, the editor stops the creator. While you invent, don't select. While you sketch, don't inspect. While you write the first draft, don't reflect. At the start, the creator mind must be unleashed from judgment.

Every idea that is made real (technology) enlarges the space we have to construct our lives.

We keep inventing new things that make new longings, new holes that must be filled.

Humans are the reproductive organs of technology.

You may be all too conscious of your own blemishes and feel like that imperfect, rejected block (or an imperfect blockhead), but the Master Artist, who knows what you're made of better than you do, takes your worst flaws and incorporates them into the beauty of his creation-you!

It has been said that there are two great Commandments—one is to love God, and the other to love your neighbor," Franklin D. Roosevelt noted soon after its creation. "The two particular tenets of this new organization say you shall love God and then forget your neighbor." Off the record, he joked that the name of the god they worshiped seemed to be "Property.

The writer crafts their ideal world. In my world, everyone has really long conversations or just picks apart pop culture to death and everyone talks in monologue.

Native Americans considered the grizzly another kind of human being, a creature from the mythic past, a survivor from the dawn of creation.

There was no limit to the outpouring as I came to the rapturous awareness of the infinite nature of God's love. There was no place that God did not exist and I was within God. I am an inseparable part of the light. The truth, of who I am, indeed, who we all are, is perfect love as a creation of God.

We'd created meaning where there was none, but, I don't know, isn't that art? Or at least I think it's the kind of art that I like, where the obsession of one person envelops other people, transforms them.

I don't know what I'm saying, really, but I guess it's like having a kid, though I don't have any kids. It's yours, you made it, and no matter what happens, you have that pride of ownership. You love it, even it it didn't amount to much.

He carries in his eyes a pearl; from the ends of days and from the winds he takes a spark; and from his hand, from the islands of rain a mountain, and creates dawn. I know him—he carries in his eyes the prophecy of the seas. He named me history and the poem that purifies a place. I know him—he named me flood.