Butterfly Quotes - Page 21

Today... maybe I can take one step on that profoundly complex path to peace.

In whose wonder do you get to participate today?

Some people are as fragile as butterflies and sensitive and it’s your responsibility not to destroy them. Just because you can

The nice thing about us lot is that what we do is of no consequence. We don't do things that are important; we spend our lives doing things which are not important. That's what's nice about us, we're not pompous. We never do anything very bad that's gonna change the world. We're not serious, we're butterflies. We live for a day.

I want you to have this.” He extended his hand. On his palm sat the beautiful butterfly he had carved. Silver spots on the wings glinted in the sunlight, and a silver chain hung from a small hole drilled into its body. Valek looped the necklace around my neck. “When I carved this statue, I was thinking about you. Delicate in appearance, but with a strength unnoticed at first glance.” His eyes met mine.

I get butterflies in my stomach before I perform. I love them! They let me know I'm ready to perform, that I'm ready to rock out on stage.

I remember one thing that marred this time for me; the movie "Gone with the Wind." When it played in Mason [MI], I was the only Negro in the theater, and when Butterfly McQueen went into her act, I felt like crawling under the rug.

Folded in my arms you're a butterfly in reverse you're giving up your wings and inheriting my curse you're letting go of me you're letting go

Thou cannot harm a butterfly, without troubling a star.

We make butterflies by feeding caterpillars, not by trying to paste wings on them. Kids need to like themselves the way they are, and we can help them develop a positive self-image.

And this was why falling for the butterflies was never a good idea. I didn't feel all bubbly and excited now. I felt cold and broken and empty.

Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), `you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.' And what does IT live on?' Weak tea with cream in it.' A new difficulty came into Alice's head. `Supposing it couldn't find any?' she suggested. Then it would die, of course.' But that must happen very often,' Alice remarked thoughtfully. It always happens,' said the Gnat.

They say I'm famous for my chip shots. Sure, when I hit 'em right, they land just so, like a butterfly with sore feet.

A room full of words that are nearly the truth but not quite, each note fluttering off the steam of its rose like a broken butterfly wing.

It was a completely new feeling for me–like someone had just released a million, tiny butterflies loose in my stomach, and they were feverishly flying up into my head and making me lose my mind.

To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than last. Maybe they were burgeoning even now in fat little cocoons. Or maybe not.

And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not—they were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.

Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!

I mean, I can tell within the first two minutes if I'm into someone or not. I can always tell if I get butterflies.

Braving obstacles and hardships is nobler than retreat to tranquility. The butterfly that hovers around the lamp until it dies is more admirable than the mole that lives in a dark tunnel.

I must say the Linux community is a lot nicer than the Unix community. A negative comment on Unix would warrent death threats. With Linux, it is like stirring up a nest of butterflies.

With Wings of the Butterfly, John Urbancik infuses his tale of shapeshifters, romance and pack rivalry with some unexpected and welcome surprises. Fluid prose, gore galore and all-too human characters make this unusual, fast-paced novella a must for fans who like their horror served blood-rare.

When he laughed in his throat, the butterfly laughed at me too. It's obscene fluttering corrupted me into darkness.

I wasn't a social butterfly at all.

It began as most thing begin. Not on a dark and stormy night. Not foreshadowed by ominous here comes the villain music, dire warning at the bottom of a teacup, or dread portents in the sky. It began small and innocuously, as most catastrophes do. A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere and the wind changes, and a warm front hits a cold front off the coast of western Africa and before you know it you’ve got an hurricane closing in. By the time anyone figured out the storm was coming, it was too late to do anything but batten down the hatches and exercise damage control.