Worship is transcendent wonder.
The world will never starve for want of wonders, but for want of wonder.
It's no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense.
The few wonders of the world only exist while there are those with the sight to see them.
Wondering's healthy. Broadens the mind. Opens you up to all sorts of stray thoughts and possibilities.
A man is a very small thing, and the night is very large and full of wonders.
Sponges grow in the ocean. That just kills me. I wonder how much deeper the ocean would be if that didn't happen.
My heart is a gypsy - continuously searching for a home, fighting within itself, wondering whether it is weak or even right for that matter to be searching in the first place. Lonliness is what it feels like.
People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.
We used to wonder where war lived, what it was that made it so vile. And now we realize that we know where it lives, that it is inside ourselves.
The older we grow the greater becomes our wonder at how much ignorance one can contain without bursting one's clothes.
When I admire the wonder of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in worship of the Creator.
Men love to wonder, and that is the seed of science.
As each day goes by, you wonder where you’re going to go next. God always comes through – he always has in the past.
He who wonders discovers that this in itself is wonder.
No wonder lasts more than three days.
Some men wonder over Godís values, others over the cut of a garment.
Some people wonder all their lives if theyíve made a difference. The Marines donít have that problem.
Wonder is retained by wise pondering.
He wondered if she would dream about a man who never left her, about some unemployed agoraphobic Indian warrior who liked to wash dishes.
O plunge your hands in water, Plunge them in up to the wrist; Stare, stare in the basin And wonder what you've missed. 'The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the tea-cup opens A lane to the land of the dead.
Think about this, the people gave birth to me cannot stop hating each other enough. What does that tell you about me? Half of my genes must be fighting with other half, no wonder I am so fucking messed up.
George the Third Ought never to have occurred. One can only wonder At so grotesque a blunder.
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