When he laughed in his throat, the butterfly laughed at me too. It's obscene fluttering corrupted me into darkness.
It is in being the caterpillar that you become the butterfly.
When works of art are presented like rare butterflies on the walls, they're decontextualized. We admire their beauty, and I have nothing against that, per se. But there is more to art than that.
It's a business now. But you still have little butterflies in your stomach before every game.
Art is the fatal net which catches these strange moments on the wing like mysterious butterflies, fleeing the innocence and distraction of common men.
Vladimir Nabokov was a writer who cared nothing for music and whose favorite sport was the pursuit, capture, and murder of butterflies. This explains many things; for example, the fact that Nabokov's novels, for all their elegance and wit, resemble nothing so much as butterflies pinned to a board: pretty but dead; symmetrical but stiff.
If nothing ever changed, there would be no such things as butterflies.
Among the myrtles the mantids moved, lightly, carefully, swaying slightly, the quintessence of evil. They were lank and green, with chinless faces and monstrous globular eyes, frosty gold, with an expression of intense, predatory madness in them. The crooked arms, with their fringes of sharp teeth, would be raised in mock supplication to the insect world, so humble, so fervent, trembling slightly when a butterfly flew too close.
Am I a human dreaming I am a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming I am a human?
Not for a moment, beautiful aged Walt Whitman, have I failed to see your beard full of butterflies.
I am a happy camper so I guess I’m doing something right. Happiness is like a butterfly; the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.
I had longed to be a butterfly, and I was one at last. I attended private parties in sumptuous evening dress, simpered and aired my graces like a born beau, and polkaed and schoisched with a step peculiar to myself - and the kangaroo.
In my world, everyone's a pony and they all eat rainbows and poop butterflies!
I'm a social butterfly. Once I get somewhere, I can make myself at ease and start the team bonding and build a relationship with my team, all my teammates, all the coaches, all the coaching staff.
I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off.
How soft indeed the song of butterflies eating.
It's so bizarre, I'm not scared of snakes or spiders. But I'm scared of butterflies. There is something eerie about them. Something weird!
With every gust of wind, the butterfly changes its place on the willow.
It is all too common for caterpillars to become butterflies and then to maintain that in their youth they had been little butterflies. Maturation makes liars of us all.
There is no help for you outside of yourself; you are the creator of the universe. Like the silkworm you have built a cocoon around yourself. . . . Burst your own cocoon and come out as the beautiful butterfly, as the free soul. Then alone you will see Truth.
