List Of Butterfly Quotes

I Worry Hope Will Crush Me, The Way Love Has So Many Times Before. Are They So Different, Hope And Love? O & E In The Same Place, Half Of The Other In Each Word. Both Swimming In Unknowns. I’ve Been Through The Big Changes. These Ones Should Seem Easier In Comparison, I Should Be More Prepared, But They Don’t And I’m Not. Sometimes I Feel Like A Broken-wing Butterfly, Clinging To A Window Screen. Afraid To Let Go. Afraid To Stay. Wondering How Much Wing Is Enough To Fly.

The Best Speakers Know Enough To Be Scared…the Only Difference Between The Pros And The Novices Is That The Pros Have Trained The Butterflies To Fly In Formation.

If Writing Novels Is Like Planting A Forest, Then Writing Short Stories Is More Like Planting A Garden. The Two Processes Complement Each Other, Creating A Complete Landscape That I Treasure. The Green Foliage Of The Trees Casts A Pleasant Shade Over The Earth, And The Wind Rustles The Leaves, Which Are Sometimes Dyed A Brilliant Gold. Meanwhile, In The Garden, Buds Appear On The Flowers, And Colorful Petals Attract Bees And Butterflies, Reminding Us Of The Subtle Transition From One Season To The Next.

As For Butterflies, I Can Hardly Conceive Of One's Attending Upon You; But To Question The Congruence Of The Complement Is Vain, If It Exists.

Hundreds Of Butterflies Flitted In And Out Of Sight Like Short-lived Punctuation Marks In A Stream Of Consciousness Without Beginning Or End.

Symbolism And Meaning Are Two Separate Things. I Think She Found The Right Words By Bypassing Procedures Like Meaning And Logic. She Captured Words In A Dream, Like Delicately Catching Hold Of A Butterfly’s Wings As It Flutters Around. Artists Are Those Who Can Evade The Verbose.

Is It Possible To Become Friends With A Butterfly?

Is It Sin, Which Makes The Worm A Chrysalis, And The Chrysalis A Butterfly, And The Butterfly Dust?

Large Flocks Of Butterflies, All Kinds Of Happy Insects, Seem To Be In A Perfect Fever Of Joy And Sportive Gladness.

Hurt No Living Thing: Ladybird, Nor Butterfly, Nor Moth With Dusty Wing.

Every Now And Then She Looked Around For Tangible Evidence Of His Having Ever Been There. Where Were The Butterflies? The Blueberries? The Whistling Reed? She Could Find Nothing, For He Had Left Nothing But His Stunning Absence.

There Are Two Bodies - The Rudimental And The Complete; Corresponding With The Two Conditions Of The Worm And The Butterfly. What We Call "death," Is But The Painful Metamorphosis. Our Present Incarnation Is Progressive, Preparatory, Temporary. Our Future Is Perfected, Ultimate, Immortal. The Ultimate Life Is The Full Design.