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Butterflies Quotes

Browse 191 quotes about Butterflies.

Butterflies Quotes

“Three tiny children excitedly gathered around a butterfly majestically poised on a single flower. Each were utterly enraptured at this magnificent sight of gentle beauty. And when the butterfly suddenly took to the sky, all three children ecstatically waved goodbye as if it had somehow been the most phenomenal encounter of their day. And as adults caught in the rush of doing ‘adult’ things, we would do well to remember that the ‘phenomenal’ sits waiting for us on flowers and other such simple things.”

“Look, Clara,” I say enthusiastically and raise my hand to show my lover the beautiful butterfly couple, but then I realize that she’s already noticed them. Sitting up, she nods to me with a smile. Her gaze follows them, just like mine, until they’ve finally disappeared out of sight, without rushing and without a destination. Now Clara turns to me, with a smile that lights up her deep, dark eyes. The most beautiful sight in the world, I think dreamily, gently plucking a thistle from her disheveled hair. “That’s certainly a good omen,” she says, lost in thought. “For what?” I ask, smiling. She winks at me. “For the future. For our life. For whatever you want.”

“A little boy fell in love with a butterfly whom he held close in the clasp of his hands. But more with each passing hour, she would applaud her limbs to encourage an escape to be free. While the boy was innocent, he was not unwise for he knew it was a crime to cage those with wings. So, he bowed before the great black willow, unfolded his praying hands, and worshiped upon a wish that she would be seduced to stay. But as she ascended into an echo of his eye, he breathed her a kiss with a sigh and said, “one day, I will grow tall until my chin can touch the sky and meet you on the clouds of what could have been.”

“Far from such din, when blessed silence returns, I can listen to the butterflies that flutter inside my head. To hear them, one must be calm and pay close attention, for their wingbeats are barely audible. Loud breathing is enough to drown them out. This is astonishing: my hearing does not improve, yet I hear them better and better. I must have butterfly hearing.”

“I think humans might be like butterflies; people die every day without many other people knowing about them, seeing their colors, hearing their stories... and when humans are broken, they're like broken butterfly wings; suddenly there are so many beauties that are seen in different ways, so many thoughts and visions and possibilities that form, which couldn't form when the person wasn't broken! So it is not a very sad thing to be broken, after all! It's during the times of being broken, that you have all the opportunities to become things unforgettable! Just like the broken butterfly wing that I found, which has given me so many thoughts, in so many ways, has shown me so many words, and imaginations! But butterflies need to know, that it doesn't matter at all if the whole world saw their colors or not! But what matters is that they flew, they glided, they hovered, they saw, they felt, and they knew! And they loved the ones whom they flew with! And that is an existence worthwhile!”

“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.”

“They were in the middle of a garden with trees shaped as animals. There were gorillas and camels and lions. Rosie felt like she was in some strange storybook circus. Any minute the gorillas would start talking and the lions would charge towards her. "What are we doing here?" Rosie's eyes went wide. "Just follow me." Josh grinned. Rosie followed him through a maze of gardens, each more elaborate than the last. There was a Japanese garden bursting with pink and white blossoms. They passed a water garden with floating lilies, and a tropical garden with birds of paradise and purple irises. Finally they entered a small garden with low-lying plants. A butterfly rested on almost every leaf. Rosie had never seen so many butterflies. She stood still as a statue, afraid if she moved they'd fly away. "This is my favorite," Josh said as if he created the garden. "It's called the butterfly garden. All the flowers contain food attractive to butterflies. The butterflies lay their eggs and feast for days before they fly away." "They're like kaleidoscopes." Rosie peered at a butterfly with gold-and-turquoise wings.”

“Heroes in fact die with one's youth. They are pinned like butterflies to the setting board of early memories—the time when skies were always blue, the sun shone and the air was filled with the sounds and scents of grass being cut. I find myself still as desperate to read the Sussex score in the stop-press as ever I was; but I no longer worship heroes, beings for whom the ordinary scales of human values are inadequate. One learns that as one grows up, so do the gods grow down. It is in many ways a pity: for one had thought that heroes had no problems of their own. Now one knows different!”

“If the butterfly didn't know how to end its life in the cocoon then we would have a bunch of dead butterflies inside of tiny silk coffins, little lives that refused to change. Perhaps due to fear of the unknown. But lots of people are less fortunate than butterflies, they don't know when to give up, say goodbye, let go, move on. You'd think the holometabolism of the butterfly is about not giving up, but it's not; it's about giving up and letting in the unknown. The attainment of the state of being alive is not about never giving up; it's about having the courage to give up, and to let in, over and over again, while you readjust your compass and realign your path.”

“Elliot and I were more 'adult' about it all. We'd kiss hello and goodbye and we'd kiss as part of foreplay, but we wouldn't kiss just for the sake of it. not when we got together properly. I would love to snog Jack Britcham. I would love to inhale the smell of him, feast in the scent of him, become intoxicated by him. And of course there is nothing wrong with looking at him. I would love to run my fingers over the lines of his body, touch him and see if I could absorb him through the pads of my fingers, have him enter my bloodstream and race through my veins. I would love to taste him. See if he tastes as good as he looks. I don't know why he's got so far under my skin, but he has. And that's not a bad thing, I didn't think. It gives me something to look forward to, I suppose. Loved-up saddo”

“The butterflies were performing circus tricks now, flying through hoops of fire. Lexi had read about infatuation once. Some writer had doused the romantic notion of winged insects. He'd said the funny feeling was simply the motion of common sense fleeing the body. It made more sense, in a world where few things did. Lexi smiled, reveling in the feeling.”

“It’s those very setbacks, detours, trials, and life transitions that become steppingstones on the path to your brilliant destination. All the while, your intuition orchestrates amazing miracles and signs around you. The key is to trust your gut and the signs crossing your path. Some of the divine signs include: • Red Cardinal Birds • Rainbows • Butterflies • Deer • Angelic Encounters • Vivid dreams of departed loved ones, friends, & pets • Triple Digits • White Feather • Plus, so much more”

“Butterflies are nature’s tragic heroes. They live most of their lives being completely ordinary. And then, one day, the unexpected happens. They burst from their cocoons in a blaze of colors and become utterly extraordinary. It is the shortest phase of their lives, but it holds the greatest importance. It shows us how empowering change can be.”

“You are so young, Lyra, too young to understand this, but I shall tell you anyway and you'll understand it later: men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain. We bear their children, who are witches if they are female, human if not; and then in the blink of an eye they are gone, felled, slain, lost. Our sons, too. When a little boy is growing, he thinks he is immortal. His mother knows he isn't. Each time becomes more painful, until finally your heart is broken. Perhaps that is when Yambe-Akka comes for you. She is older than the tundra. Perhaps, for her, witches' lives are as brief as men's are to us.”

“When you have butterflies and you’re feeling anxious and you have anxiety or are nervous, that’s when you’re most powerful... A lot of people, instead of honing this power and using it, they allow it to just consume them. There’s another quote that says, ‘A big challenge, a big pressure is like a fire, it’s like a raging fire. Either you can allow this fire to consume you and just take you over completely, or you can gain control of this fire and harness it and you blow it right at your opponent, Dragonball Z style.’ That’s what I’m trying to do, trying to get my emotions under control and use this adrenaline to my advantage.”

“In our day and age, global society has been saturated with the wrong teaching of false positivity. The denial of darkness never equates the abundance of light. And the denial of your actual character never equates to the reality of your best character. People today are afraid to work on themselves and on their actual realities, they believe that outward appearances are enough. Outward appearances have become everything in our current day and age. People don't see what they are actually like, nor who they actually are, in reality. They live in a phantasmic version of reality. It has to stop. In the phantasmic version of reality, there is no chance to experience true love, true goodness, and true metamorphosis. The caterpillar does not become a butterfly by telling everybody it has wings. It actually buries itself in darkness and grows those wings.”

“When I was small, my mother told me that moths were butterflies that had been banished to the night, where they lived tortured lives dreaming of the day. In this way she explained why they sacrificed themselves to flame; it was both an end to their suffering and a reunion with the light they longed for. The parable, of course, was meant to warn me against wanting what I should not have.”