So Shakespeare stole; but he did wonderful things with his plunder. He's like somebody who nicks your old socks and then darns them.
But that's the wonderful thing about man; he never gets so discouraged or disgusted that he gives up doing it all over again, because he knows very well it is important and the doing.
It's a funny things about human nature. Nobody ever wonders why they've got a healthy brother or a perfect kiddie. Anything goes wrong, though, we soon start why, oh why...
He would write and write. He would make wonderful things happen. Some of it would be true. All of it would be true. Most of it would be true.
Sometimes fear and confusion can blunt your perceptions. You become so driven to make sense of things, to identify the dangers lurking around the next corner, that you neglect to see the wonders all around you.
I would wonder if you could be a hero or heroine if you did not live in deep time, that is, Past, present, and future all at once.
A lot of female teachers do this - flirt with male students. I wonder if that's the only way they know how to interact with men. Like they use their sexuality to get what they want.
...you were there when they trampled me - you picked me up, healed me and gave me back my feelings - is it any wonder I love you?...
Recounting the strange is like telling one's dreams: one can communicate the events of a dream, but not the emotional content, the way that a dream can colour one's entire day.
It makes me wonder, Do we spend most of our days trying to remember or forget things? Do we spend most of our time running towards or away from our lives? I don't know.
Wisdom's Way to Wonder? Yes, Your Majesty? Wiseoneder, What say you of days and nights? Days and nights, Your Majesty, appear to the bright to be filled with light; Light being dark way out of sight.
Are all of us the same, I wonder, navigating our lives by interpreting the silences between words spoken, analysing the returning echoes of our memory in order to chart the terrain, in order to make sense of the world around us?
My eyes wondered from one end of the mountains to the other. 'Do you think they go on forever?' 'The mountains?' Aritomo said, as though he had been asked that question before. 'They fade away. Like all things.
You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then?" "I've a knife in my boot," she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands.
I wondered if perhaps I'd gone mad. I had known this man less than twenty-four hours and already I wanted to raise his children.
Was it possible to fall for someone you’d met only once and communicated with only through phone, chat, and text? I had sleepless nights wondering, and every time I thought about it, the answer was yes, yes, yes! And I refused to think of it as inf...
Sometimes I sit for hours just thinking, wondering what the man upstairs is trying to tell me. Yesterday I reached the conclusion that he was saying, “Get me a slinky.
He wondered reflectively what would happen if you asked a nun where the Gents was. Probably the Pope sent you a sharp note or something.
I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.
The flawlessly beautiful were flawlessy happy, weren't they? To Kristy this had always seemed self-evident. Tonight, however, the alcohol made her wonder if envy hadn't blinded her. Perhaps to be flawless was another kind of sadness.
God works in mysterious ways his wonders to perform, as Reenie used to say. Could it be that Myra is my designated guardian angel? Or is she instead a foretaste of Purgatory? And how do you tell the difference?
