Quotes & Sayings About Butterflies And Beauty

Then I stop existing. She is talking, talking, takes off who knows where, she says it all starts over, speech, paths, butterflies and that she just loves words' inevitable slowness, she says that when in distress everything is overcome by the sound of words and that everything then becomes impossible to understand, she says things are exploding in her head and that everything must be attempted again like a backhand, a lob in mindspace, she repeats the mind is fragile but the eyes, but the eyes Melanie, she says one must not give up, that nothing is impossible if in the realm of the improbable memory realises the certitude which in us keeps an eye out for beauty on the horizon, she talks about our attachment to certain words, that they are like small slow deaths in concise reality. — Nicole Brossard

Butterflies can't see their wings. They can't see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well. — Naya Rivera

Strange people. The kind that leave the merest blur behind them, soon vanished. Hutte and I often used to talk about these traceless beings. They spring up out of nothing one fine day and return there, having sparkled a little. Beauty queens. Gigolos. Butterflies. Most of them, even when alive, had no more substance than steam which will never condense. — Patrick Modiano

Perhaps it's my destiny to remain a book-keeper for ever and for poetry and literature to remain simply butterflies that alight on my head and merely underline my own ridiculousness by their very beauty. — Fernando Pessoa

Everything from quarks to quasars, butterflies to brain cells, was created so that you and I might delight in the display of divine glory. We alone can glorify God by rejoicing in the beauty His creative handiwork and relishing the splendor of His-revelation in the Person and redemptive work of Jesus Christ. — Kelly Monroe Kullberg

Oh, God. I'm in big trouble. Because I'm staring. I can't keep my eyes from ogling his chiseled triceps and biceps and every other eps ' he has. The butterflies in my stomach have just multiplied tenfold as my wandering gaze meets his. — Simone Elkeles

The emptiness of the track stretched out before me and drifted as far as I could see. As no hikers were out tonight, it was just me and the rising stars. As I set off down the gravel track, a white moth fluttered over my path. Its dusty wings with their brown splotchy patterns lifted it higher. Then, before I had a chance to catch sight of it again, it spirited away. I'd never been the sort of child who wanted to chase butterflies, or catch things of beauty to keep and look at in a glass jar. But tonight, I'd wanted that moth. I'd wanted a moment, just a second, to catch it. Hold onto it. Maybe it was Tain's words still ringing in my ears. They don't live long. The knowledge that it might not be there tomorrow night, or tomorrow morning even, had cast it in a new light. It was suddenly a desperate need to see this thing. I spun around. The track was empty. Wherever it was gone, it was far away from me now. — Carmen Tudor

How to describe what humans look like to us! I've tried to describe it a little, when I spoke of Nicki's beauty the night before as a mixture of movement and color. But you can't imagine what it's like for us to look on living flesh. There are those billions of colors and tiny configurations of movement, yes, that make up a living creature on whom we concentrate. But the radiance mingles totally with the carnal scent. Beautiful, that's what any human being is to us, if we stop to consider it, even the old and the diseased, the downtrodden that one doesn't really "see" in the street. They are all like that, like flowers ever in the process of opening, butterflies ever unfolding out of the cocoon. Well, — Anne Rice

O beautiful white land,
olives and wild anemone and violet
mingled among the shale,
and purple wings
of little winter-butterflies
say, here Psyche, the soul, lies. — Hilda Doolittle

Bees blew like cake-crumbs through the golden air, white butterflies like sugared wafers, and when it wasn't raining a diamond dust took over which veiled and yet magnified all things — Laurie Lee

Words are pretty, useless things - butterflies behind glass. You may feel warm and bright as you stare at their beauty but you'll walk away empty and cold, clutching nothing but the painful realization that you never really had anything at all. — Julie Johnson

The next time you feel that you will never get past the things you're experiencing now, look back on the trials you've experienced in the past and think about how far you've come since they happened. Trials won't last forever, and change will always benefit you. Remember that without change, there would be no butterflies. Without change, the dead of winter would never turn into the beauty of spring. Without change, the dark of night would never turn into the triumph of dawn. — Jayda Skidmore

Listening with absorbed attention more to her voice than to what she was saying, and thinking how like she was, flowering through her voice into beauty in the darkness, to some butterflies he had come across in the Swiss mountains the summer before. When they were folded up they were grey, mothlike creatures that one might easily overlook, but directly they opened their wings they became the loveliest things in the world, all rose-colour or heavenly blue. So had she been to him in the daylight that afternoon,
an ordinary woman, not in any way noticeable; but now listen to her, opening into beauty on the wings of her voice! — Elizabeth Von Arnim

A rural Venus, Selah rises from the
gold foliage of the Sixhiboux River, sweeps
petals of water from her skin. At once,
clouds begin to sob for such beauty.
Clothing drops like leaves.
"No one makes poetry,my Mme.
Butterfly, my Carmen, in Whylah,"
I whisper. She smiles: "We'll shape it with
our souls."
Desire illuminates the dark manuscript
of our skin with beetles and butterflies.
After the lightning and rain has ceased,
after the lightning and rain of lovemaking
has ceased, Selah will dive again into the
sunflower-open river. — George Elliott Clarke

She first peered into its fascinating cases of beetles and butterflies at the age of six, in the company of her father. She recalls her pity at each occupant pinned for display. It was no great leap to draw the same conclusion of ladies: similarly bound and trussed, pinned and contained, with the objective of being admired, in all their gaudy beauty. — Emmanuelle De Maupassant

On one part of the footpath where a thin trickle of water from a small spring kept it damp, I found ... a swarm of ... small, blue butterflies drinking the water. ... I only went that way on sunny days and each time the dense, blue swarm was there, and each time it was a holiday. — Hermann Hesse

The beauty is an illusion, and also a warning: there's a dark side to beauty, as with poisonous butterflies. — Margaret Atwood

When works of art are presented like rare butterflies on the walls, they're decontextualized. We admire their beauty, and I have nothing against that, per se. But there is more to art than that. — Hans Haacke

Wow!" My whole body exploded with joy and excitement to see this magnificent sight. Overwhelmed by their presence, my stomach fluttered right along with them. Butterflies of every color, looking as if they were painted with patches of bold bright reds, oranges, blues, purples, and yellows, all intertwined, overlapping each other. As I continued to follow their path, I squinted at the brilliant sun in the cloudless sky. It blinded me for a split second, and then I saw that the butterflies were returning, circling around Michael and me - all of them dancing in the sky. Each knew its location and position with such precision, never colliding while reaching higher and higher to form a tunnel. Countless butterflies, circling around us, gave me chills as I could feel the air gently flowing from their wings. It was incredible to experience such beauty of color and grace so close within reach. — C. Gockel

There is something charming and peculiar about a beginning. You feel it, like the change of seasons, from winter to spring, from spring to summer. You feel it; the new blood pumping inside your veins. You feel it; a thousand butterflies fluttering around your fingers to help you fly. You feel it; on your lips, when you smile at the absurdities of life that suddenly make perfect sense.
You smile... Because in every beginning, there is a rebirth. Because in every beginning, there is a layer of you that you just discovered. A layer you forgot was buried in you all this time. You smile because you are reminded of the immensity of fate. You smile because suddenly you feel so small and you like it.
So let's begin my dear. This life is beautiful. — Malak El Halabi

Loved. I hadn't even realized how desperetly I'd wanted love.How much we both needed to know that in a world of dark corners and sharp needles, there really is a place where kisses taste like apple pie and where stars spill like suger across the sky. A place where unknown roads no longer scare you because you have another hand to hold. A place where butterflies always flutter whenever you see each other, and a single touch tells you that you are not alone. A place where every kiss still feels like the first. In that place of us, Liv and Dean, love has its own poetry and language. Allure, quartrefoil, fleur-de-lis ... Professor. Beauty. — Nina Lane

Some girls are pretty, and it's like they were destined for it. They were meant to be pretty, and as for the rest of us, well, we get to exist on the outer edges of life. It's like moths. They're the same as butterflies, aren't they? They're just gray. They can't help being gray, they just are. But butterflies, they're a million different colors, yellow and emerald and cerulean blue. They're pretty. Who'd dare kill a butterfly? I don't know of a single soul who'd lift a finger against a butterfly. But most anybody would swat at a moth like it was nothing, and all because it isn't pretty. Doesn't seem fair, not at all. — Jenny Han

Butterflies are symbols of hope. They land beside us, like sunbeams, and belong to us for a moment, but then they fly away. And while we wish they might have stayed longer to share their beauty, we feel blessed for having s-seen them. — RaeAnne Thayne

Describe plum-blossoms?
Better than my verses ... white
Wordless Butterflies — Reikan

A smile is the flower that grows in the garden of the heart to beautify and attract the butterflies of life. — Debasish Mridha

Marvellous!" he repeated, looking up at me.
"Look! The beauty
but that is nothing
look at the accuracy, the harmony. And so fragile! And so strong! And so exact!
This is Nature
the balance of colossal forces. Every star is so
and every blade of grass stands
so
and the mighty Kosmos il perfect equilibrium produces
this.
This wonder; this masterpiece of Nature
the great artist. — Joseph Conrad

The joy in catching butterflies is the joy of capturing - for an instant - utter beauty. The satisfaction of being able to let it go is immense. — Ruth Rudner

Worst fears: That God was not good. That the earth you stood upon shifted, and chasms yawned; that people, falling, clutched one another for help and none was forthcoming. That the basis of all things was evil. That the beauty of the evening, now settling in a yellow glow on the stone of The Cottage barns, the swallows dipping and soaring, a sudden host of butterflies in the long grasses in the foreground, was a lie; a deceitful sheen on which hopeful visions flitted momentarily, and that long, long ago evil had won against good, death over life... in the glow of the sun against the stone walls, as well as in the dancing of butterflies- that in this she had been mocked. — Fay Weldon

Butterflies are self propelled flowers. — Robert A. Heinlein