Best 1487 quotes in «wonder quotes» category

With each reunion (we) had to learn each other all over again. There was always that nervous moment at the airport when I would stand there waiting for him to arrive, wondering, Will I still know him? Will he still know me?

Wonder Showzen was one of the first shows that realized each sketch, each segment is essentially one joke, and, once you know what the joke is, it's time to move on.

Wonder - the sensation of being whisked out of time and space...to be bathed in ... epiphanous delight.

Wonder is involuntary praise.

Wonder [said Socrates] is very much the affection of a philosopher; for there is no other beginning of philosophy than this.

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts.

Wonder is retained by wise pondering.

Wonder implies the desire to learn.

Wonder is defined by Thomas [Aquinas] in the Summa Theologiae [I-II, Q. 32, a. 8], as the desiderium sciendi, the desire for knowledge, active longing to know.

Wonder is the seed of knowledge

Wondering what I'm doing tonight I've been in the closet and feel all right

Wonder is the basis of worship.

Working your whole life wondering where the day went, the subway stays packed like a multicultural slaveship.

....Worthy would-be worlds of words, whorls of working wonder.

Worship is transcendent wonder.

Yes I have loved, as no one on earth ever loved, with an insensate and furious love, so violent that I wonder it did not break my heart

You can spend too much time wondering which of identical twins is the more alike.

You cannot create a piece of art merely for money. Doing it as part of commerce so denudes art of wonder that it ceases to be art.

You do not know what you are going to do,the only thing you know is that God knows what He is doing.......It is this attitude that keeps you in perpetual wonder-you do not know what God is going to do next.

You ever wonder when God's coming back with a lot of barbecue sauce?

You ever wonder if Adam and Eve were just the puppies God dumped because they wouldn't house-train?

You kill me, Rose," he said melodramatically. "Every day is agony without you. Empty. Alone. I pine for you, wondering if you're even still alive.

You go through life wondering what is it all about but at the end of the day it's all about family.

You go through stages where you wonder whether you are Christ, or just looking for him.

You keep wondering whether people will see that Barack Obama is a liar and not very bright.

You kissed me like that when I was a blushing bride ...? I wonder what I was blushing about?

You know economists; they're the sort of people who see something works in practice and wonder if it would work in theory.

You know you knit too much when ... Before you buy anything, such as a hammock or curtains, you seriously wonder whether you could knit it.

You may be wondering why there are words on my hands. That's because I'm a dork. And I'm gonna choose not to explain myself.

You may be wondering why I went from over there to over here. Well, that was choreography.

You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope. You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next.

You meet these people who are confident all the time. They annoy me. And I wonder if it's because I'm envious or if it's because they're shallow.

You’re a wondering soul, looking for a peace that doesn’t exist. Lost you will be until you find the one inner truth. We can never hide from what we are. The only hope is to embrace it.’ (Old Seer)

You need not wonder whether you should have an unreliable person as a friend. An unreliable person is nobody's friend.

Young children have no sense of wonder. They bewilder well, but few things surprise them. All of it is new to young children, after all, and equally gratuitous.

You realize that there's no point in doing anything if nobody's watching. You wonder, if there had been a low turnout at the crucifixion, would they have rescheduled?

You see him coming in with an 0-2 record and a 5 ERA and you wonder, 'How? How's that possible?

A core fundamental of human existence is wonder—and its analogue is fear. You can’t have one without the other, flip sides of the coin.

You wonder and you wonder until you wander out into Infinity, where - if it is to be found anywhere - Truth really exists.

You wonder if God has a place for a person like you. Find your answer in the Bethlehem stable.

A Brief Awakening In the vastness of the out-rushing cosmos, you are but tiny—a warm and pulsing spark. Against all odds, your birth a brief awakening from silent eons spent sleeping in the dark. When you feel your heart swell with wild wonder at the dazzling diamond chandeliers of night, know your body was built from ancient stardust and the universe now sees through your eyes. So let the breath of sweet gratitude fill you, as the light of each new day begins. For this moment itself is a miracle, and to live it is your privilege my friend.

Adam understood, then, that Gansey and Blue’s awe changed this place. Ronan and Adam may have seen this place as magical, but Gansey and Blue’s wonder made it holy.

A breeze wafted through the trees and settled like a fog. It did't smell like peaches at all. It smelled, strangely, like cinnamon and cayenne pepper. It smelled like far away.

A day ago, the sight of a man removing his face would have blown thick chunks of Aiden’s mind out the back of his head, but not today. Today Aiden was fresh out of shock and running low on wonder.

Ahimsa smiled at the confused boy. He knew he had fed Jack impossible questions and because of it, he knew Jack would remain hungry. Ahimsa understood that this was his real purpose, the reason why he existed: To keep Jack hungry for answers. He never intended to cause Jack any hurt. Quite the opposite. He wanted to make Jack feel real—more real than he had ever felt in his whole life. That was the gift Ahimsa wanted to give to Jack, even if it wasn’t yet Christmas in Dhyāna Land. He knew it was the best gift Jack would ever receive: the gift of wonder, the gift of curiosity.

Adventures of Lailah Gifty Akita, the wonder woman!

A joyful life,reaching out to people from all walks of life.

A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off. At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.

All children are born rebels and explorers until they're taught to sit still and obey.

All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam’s waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam’s curse. “Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.” A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.