Universe Quotes - Page 2

The world ultimately is what we say it is.

The wreckage of stars - I built a world from this wreckage.

Prove to the world that you are alive, let your words breathe life into the nostrils of the universe.

There are two infinities that confuse me: the one in my soul devours me; the one around me will crush me

The universe is God's son.

Sometimes words come out of me and I don't know where they come from or why. They're like falling stars tumbling through the universe; bright, burning things that can't be stopped.

I am not interested in wishing hard and having the Universe provide all I need without any work on my part.

We are doing the most important possible work in the world when we open the door and reveal our creative nature.
It is the work of the Universe itself.

Besides the alternate universe offered by a book, the quiet space of a museum was my favorite place to go. My mom said I was an escapist at heart . . . that I preferred imaginary worlds to the real one. It’s true that I’ve always been able to yank myself out of this world and plunge myself into another.

We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe.

You may think I’m small, but I have a universe inside my mind.

The world is a contradiction; the universe a paradox.

The universe, they say, depended for its operation on the balance of four forces which they identified as charm, persuasion, uncertainty, and bloody-mindedness.

It's immeasurably easier to live in a world that's all surfaces, that means nothing and demands nothing of you.

When I see the moon on a clear night, I do say "blessed be" and I remind myself to be grateful to the universe that I happen to exist in such a lovely and wondrous world, even and especially as I can rattle on about magma cooling, abiogenesis, and natural selection.

A writer is never just looking out of a window or staring into space. They are building a universe to share with the world

I want to climb up the blank blue dome as a man would storm the inside of a circus tent, wildly, dangling, and with a steel knife claw a rent in the top, peep, and, if I must, fall.

If, as Heraclitus suggests, god, like an oracle, neither "declares nor hides, but sets forth by signs," then clearly I had better be scrying the signs.

you cross the field in the snow leaving tracks in perfect whiteness ...disturbing my placid universe...marking the landscape within me ...

That’s what it feels like when you touch me. Like millions of tiny universes being born and then dying in the space between your finger and my skin. Sometimes I forget.