Patricia Velasquez Quotes

Butterflies...flowers that fly and all but sing.

Butterflies are self propelled flowers.

Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.

Not for a moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies.

The very idea of a bird is a symbol and a suggestion to the poet. A bird seems to be at the top of the scale, so vehement and intense is his life, large-brained, large-lunged, hot, ecstatic, his frame charged with buoyancy and his heart with song.

I mean, everything that is upon this earth, even from a worm or a caterpillar that blossoms into a butterfly, you know, these things are just amazing.

Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.

A beautiful day with the buoyancy of a bird.

The butterfly lures us not only because he is beautiful, but because he is transitory. The caterpillar is uglier, but in him we can regard the better joy of becoming.

Our mouths and bodies speak for us in a new language as the trees shake loose a rain of petals that stick to our slickness like skins we will wear forever. And just like that, I am changed.

Poised for flight, Wings spread bright, Spring from night into the Sun.

The first time her laughter unfurled its wings in the wind, we knew that the world would never be the same

A bird is joy incarnate.

I became the butterfly. I got out of the cocoon, and I flew.

Look at that sea, girls--all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds.

Desire's wind blasts the thorntree but after it becomes from a bramblebush to be a rose upon the rood of time.

Nature is beautiful, not because it changes beautifully, but simply because it changes.

Ever try to hold a butterfly? It can't be done. You damage them," he said. 'As gentle as you try to be, you take the powder from their wings and they won't ever fly the same. It's kinder to let them go.

Come out of the azure. Love the day. Do not leave the sky out of your landscape.

Her glass wings are gone.

My birthday began with the water - Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name.

All little creatures are beautiful...every living thing when it first sees life is born in beauty. What they grow to be is a different matter.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.

We will enjoy ourselves with the forms that are given us: a human face, a hand, the breast of a woman or the body of a man, a glad or sorrowful expression, the infinite seas, the wild rocks, the melancholy language of the black trees in the snow, the wild strength of spring flowers and the heavy lethargy of a hot summer day when Pan, our old friend, sleeps and the ghosts of midday whisper. This alone is enough to make us forget the grief of the world, or to give it form.

Death is never an ending, death is a change; Death is beautiful, for death is strange; Death is one dream out of another flowing.