Butterfly Quotes

Quotes tagged as "butterfly" Showing 31-60 of 119
Amit Ray
“The aim of compassionate superintelligence AI 5.0 is to build deep connections - the connections which can feel the pain of the prisoners and the joy in the dances of the butterflies.”
Amit Ray, Compassionate Artificial Superintelligence AI 5.0 - AI with Blockchain, BMI, Drone, IOT, and Biometric Technologies

Jeanette LeBlanc
“Butterflies are beautiful, but the process of emerging from the chrysalis and spreading your wings can hurt like fucking hell. But still, you will survive the transformation (over and over again) and you will fly. Remember this when it hurts the most. This is the metamorphosis, the going down to liquid, and the rising again. It’s no joke – but damn, it’s one hell of a journey.”
Jeanette LeBlanc

Kristin Michelle Elizabeth
“Only those who stick around long enough to see the caterpillar turn into the butterfly actually get to witness the transformation.”
Kristin Michelle Elizabeth

L.R. Knost
“And just when the darkness
became too much to bear
and the struggle too hard,
the light broke through
and the caterpillar emerged
a butterfly
delicate but unbroken,
wild and gentle,
finally free to spread its lovely wings
and fly away on the wind.”
L.R. Knost

Jomny Sun
“sometimes a caterpillar will wait too long and die in its cocoon before ever becoming a buterfly.”
Jomny Sun, Everyone's a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too

Peta Kelly
“Failure is like a caterpillar before it becomes a butterfly.”
Peta Kelly, Earth is Hiring: The New way to live, lead, earn and give for millennials and anyone who gives a sh*t

Henry David Thoreau
“Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit comfortably on your shoulder.”
Henry David Thoreau

Federico García Lorca
“…I went away from your side,
in love without knowing it.
Now I don’t know how your eyes
look, nor your hands, nor your hair.
I know only the butterfly
of your kiss on my forehead.”
Federico García Lorca

“She was rain to a parched desert
She was color to a gray sky
She was the beautiful butterfly you longed to possess
But I let her fly
For fear of breaking her wings!”
Avijeet Das

“She was rain to a parched desert
She was color to a gray sky
She was the butterfly you longed to possess
But I let her fly
For fear of breaking her delicate wings!”
Avijeet Das

Anton Chekhov
“Butterfly land on a human just once in life; if you miss that oppurtunity, you have no another chance. Because that butterfly will be dead the next day.”
Anton Chekhov

Melanie Dobson
“Autumn Dancer flutters among the flowers, chasing the last rays of sunlight until her haven is swallowed up by the night. Her sisters are asleep now, hidden under the fronds, but she doesn't care. She dances alone in the twilight, embracing the warmth of the golden hour, her wings sweeping past silky petals of the late summer blooms. In the safe cocoon of her garden, she dares believe that no harm will ever enter the gates. This is her world of beauty and peace, of sweet nectar and life, completely unspoiled by the footsteps of danger or the silent mockery of time.”
Melanie Dobson, Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor

“You are my butterfly,
and I am your flower.”
Anthony T.Hincks

Nanette L. Avery
“An author’s great day is releasing your book into the world like a butterfly and having a reviewer come upon it and say…oh, that’s lovely!”
Nanette L. Avery

Claudia Pavel
“You wonderful falling star,
escaped from the eternal bliss.
You angel of light,
Who carries the sun under his wings.
Why did you descend on Earth?
Immortal butterfly of light,
who challenged my existence."

(fragment from "An immortal appearance", chapter Hope)”
Claudia Pavel, The Odyssey of My Lost Thoughts

“A cowboy’s hands are as strong as steel, as tough as leather, but soft enough to touch a butterfly’s wing and the skin of a woman without disturbing the beauty of either.”
Carol Crandell (The Weaver's Tale: A Story of the Malheur River Country

“সৃষ্টিকর্তা যখন আমাদের ভালো কাজে খুশি হন, তখন তিনি তাঁর আনন্দ প্রকাশ করতে সুন্দর প্রাণী, পাখি, প্রজাপতি ইত্যাদি আমাদের কাছাকাছি পাঠান!”
Md. Ziaul Haque

“Observing the transformation of your fellow caterpillar into a butterfly does not mean you can also be a butterfly. You may just be eaten along the way if not fortunate.”
Augustine S. Samorlu

Sarah Combs
“Calvin Little, Lepidopterist! Calvin Little, he of the Still Waters Running Deep all over the place. Sweet, belt-wearing, Latin-spouting Calvin, to whom I owed three dollars and seventy-five cents. He had called himself my friend, and for some reason that knocked me out more than if he had professed his undying love for me. Friend, as in the noun-not-the-verb, as in real-life, flesh-and-blood friend. I wanted to cry with appreciation for him. As I glue-sticked the Blue Morpho into the GBBoE, it occured to me that my mind had snapped a photograph of Calvin– Calvin kneeling in the sunshine, his brilliant hair aflame in the light, cradling that butterfly in his freckled hands–and that I might just carry the image with me for the rest of my life.”
Sarah Combs, Breakfast Served Anytime

Kayla Krantz
“I’ve always preferred moths to butterflies. They aren’t flashy or cocky; they mind their own business and just try to blend in with their surroundings and live their lives. They don’t want to be seen, and that’s something I can relate to.”
Kayla Krantz, The OCD Games: A Christmas Romance Novella

Munia Khan
“I hear a butterfly singing
when you’re the brightest band of colours
on those fluttering forewings
to send love closer to me
with a pulsing promise;
as you become its heart
beating through those miniscule veins

From the poem- Token of Life”
Munia Khan, To Evince the Blue

Jojo Moyes
“The key was making sure that anyone you allowed to walk beside you didn't get to decide which you were, and pin you down a like a butterfly in a case. The key was to know that you could always somehow find a way to reinvent yourself again.”
Jojo Moyes, Still Me

Christine Evangelou

There is beauty both inside and outside of the cocoon that pushed you to grow
Through darkness and dysfunction, depth and despair
A vivid light splits through and steals you away
When you get comfortable with your own messy and beautiful self
Nothing and no-one can block you
You finally see your truth
You fall in line with the beat of your own vibration
You come out of your cocoon
A gorgeous butterfly”
Christine Evangelou, The Touch of 10,000 Words: Musings and Poetry: Love, Life, Inner Magic and the Pursuit of Dreams

Titon Rahmawan
“Wings of Butterfly - Fallen into Your Lap

A lip doesn't tremble, just to chant the prayer. A pair of eyes can't look to try to express the feeling. Even for an instant, but is there still a heartbeat come to your ears, how come my love?

The wind rushed between the silence of the tables and benches. Whispering between rolls of maps and stack of books. Jumping up and down between the heads that are scattered contemplating the clear song, melodious sound of your voice.

Ouch, how much more I want to trace my longing to miss this to your lap. Trembling strokes of the eyelids and lips that are perfect smiles. Echoed passion in the chest, hide the sound of thunder and also heavy rain. Where do I fret to meet the song Asmaradahana in the glazed of your eyelids. Dream was entangled by a strand of busy hair strands of purple, red, yellow, white and blue orchid strings in silent vases. Where are my tired wings has fallen before drooping surrender in your palm.”
Titon Rahmawan

Melanie Dobson
“Eyes closed, she imagined the butterflies soaring over the petals, riding the tail of the breeze. She imagined a fairy leading their dance, her wings shimmering in the sun.
Then one of the butterflies seemed to come alive in her mind, like a character on the silver screen. Twirling in the sunlight that spilled through the window.
She was pale blue, laced with gold, and Libby could see her, inside and out, every detail on her slender body, every color on her wardrobe of wings.
Libby released her legs and sprung down onto the rug on her floor. Under her bed was a box with her old sketchbook and colored pencils. She hadn't wanted to draw in a long time. She'd only wanted to be among the flowers and butterflies.
But if she couldn't be with her friends, perhaps she could entertain them in her room.
The sketchbook in hand, she hopped back on the bed and began drawing the blue butterfly who'd twirled in the lamplight, but her butterfly looked so dull on the paper. Nothing like the butterfly she'd seen moments before.
She- Libby Doyle- was a creator, and her creation begged her for more.
Rushing to the bathroom, she filled a paper cup with water. In her parents' bedroom were tubes of special paint. And a brush. Mummy once told her she'd kept the paints to remember her father- Libby's granddad- but what better way to remember him than to use his paints to birth another life?
'Life.' She wanted to breathe light and color and life into her friends.”
Melanie Dobson, Shadows of Ladenbrooke Manor

Dana Arcuri
“As we grow our faith, we wait in silence. As we listen for His voice, we have hope that He will speak. It may not be a loud boom or thunder, but a soft whisper. He may use a song, a butterfly, a sermon, a stranger, or even a red cardinal, but there is hope that God will come through for us.”
Dana Arcuri, Sacred Wandering: Growing Your Faith In The Dark

Rhidian Brook
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever”
Rhidian Brook, The Killing of Butterfly Joe

“People of this era are just like a butterfly that is controlled by candles' light where it follows the light in darkness without knowing where it is going to be destined similar to the people, they just insist on believing things that cannot be physically proven instead of doing what can make them to develop and successful, they just waste their time on beliefs (religious).”
Ntambara Sylvestre Owen Berbason

Rachel Alexander
“Kore stood amidst the the sheaves of barley to wave Demeter over, then crouched again and poked her finger into the soil. Dark green leaves shot out in every direction, and she circled her wrist upward, raising a stalk out of the earth. She stood slowly. The plant crept toward her hand. Kore splayed her fingers wide and a purple blossom sprang from the thorny stalk.
"Oh, Kore, if you grow a thistle in the barley field, someone might prick their finger."
"Wait," Kore said, smiling. "Just watch."
A fiery copper butterfly fluttered on the warm breeze and alighted on the blossom. Demeter smiled.
"You see? I saw her wandering in the barley and made her a home. You don't mind, do you?"
"My sweet, clever girl, of course I don't." Demeter hugged Kore. The butterfly folded its wings, fed and content.
"My thistle won't interfere with the harvest, will it?" Kore knit her brows.
"Not in the slightest."
The butterfly spread its wings, sunlight catching them as they fanned. "I don't think she will be alone for long. Surely a good mate will come looking for her.”
Rachel Alexander, Receiver of Many

“In a dream I saw myself as a great and colorful butterfly; now I am not sure if I am Chuang-Tsu dreaming I was a butterfly, or I am a butterfly dreaming I am Chuang-Tsu.”
Chuang Tzu