Quotes About Creation

Yeah, said the Kid. He dredged up his watch and checked the time. Maybe you'd better go eat. You need to keep your strength up if you aim to wrest the secrets of creation from the gods. They're a testy lot by all accounts.

Evoca las formas. Cuando no tengas nada más inventa ceremonias e infúndeles vida.

Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them.

To know what will come is the same as to make it so.

to try whether the stuff of creation may be shaped to man's will or whether his own heart is not another kind of clay.

What is the significance of the book's title? 2. Discuss the meaning of the observation: "The world was new each day for God so made it daily. Yet it contained within it all the evils as before" [p. 278]. How are these words applicable to the novel's action?

But who builds in stone seeks to alter the structure of the universe and so it was with these masons however primitive their works may seem to us.

God made this world, but he didn't make it to suit everybody did he.

Sizce o devrin insanlar? daha m? gaddard?? diye sordu memur. Adam sel alt?ndaki kasabaya bak?yordu. Hay?r, dedi. DeÄŸildi. Rabbim ilkini yaratt??? günden beri ayn? insanoÄŸlu.

Words are things.

Qualunque cosa esista, disse. Qualunque cosa esista nella creazione senza che io la conosca esiste senza il mio consenso.

after a while someone asked the expriest if it were true that at one time there had been two moons in the sky and the expriest eyed the false moon above them and said that it may well have been so. But certainly the wise high God in his dismay at the proliferation of lunacy on this earth must have wetted a thumb and leaned down out of the abyss and pinched it hissing into extinction.

So where does music come from? No one knows. A platonic theory of music just muddies the water. Music is made out of nothing but some fairly simple rules. Yet it's true that no one made them up. The rules. The notes themselves amount to almost nothing. But why some particular arrangement of these notes should have such a profound effect on our emotions is a mystery beyond even the hope of comprehension. Music is not a language.

se sentó con las manos ahuecadas en el regazo y aparentemente satisfecho con el mundo, como si se le hubiera consultado a él en el momento de su creación.

Music is made out of nothing but some fairly simple rules. Yet it's true that no one made them up. The rules. The notes themselves amount to almost nothing. But why some particular arrangement of these notes should have such a profound effect on our emotions is a mystery beyond even the hope of comprehension. Music

Sus orígenes son ya tan remotos como remoto es su destino y nunca más, por más vueltas que dé el mundo, encontrará territorios tan agrestes y bárbaros donde probar si la materia de la creación puede amoldarse a la voluntad humana o si el corazón no es más que arcilla de otra clase.

Only now is the child finally divested of all that he has been. His origins are become remote as is his destiny and not again in all the world's turning will there be terrains so wild and barbarous to try whether the stuff of creation may be shaped to man's will or whether his own heart is not another kind of clay.

The wolf is made he way the world is made. You cannot touch the world. You cannot hold it in your hand for it is made of breath only.

Deer and hare and dove and groundvole all richly empaneled on the air for her delight, all nations of the possible world ordained by God of which she was one among and not separate from.

The world has created no living thing that it does not intend to destroy. I suppose that's true. What then? Is that all that the world has in mind? If the world has a mind then it's all worse than we thought.

He lay with his feet together and his arms at his sides like a dead king on an altar. He rocked in the swells, floating like the first germ of life adrift on the earth's cooling seas, formless macule of plasm trapped in a vapor drop and all creation yet to come.

Perhaps, after all, this world was made of dreams, and an old man had merely found the words for them.

One day God felt he ought to give his workshop a spring-clean…. It was amazing what ragged bits and pieces came out from under his workbench as he swept. Beginnings of creatures, bits that looked useful but had seemed wrong, ideas that he'd mislaid and forgotten…. There was even a tiny lump of sun. He scratched his head. What could be done with all this rubbish? Ted Hughes, "Leftovers," from The Dreamfighter

The Weaver wove herself from the thread of night, hair of moonlight, skin of stars. So old. Without beginning or end.