Butterflies Are Proof Quotes

I don’t know [why we're here]. People sometimes say to me, ‘Why don’t you admit that the humming bird, the butterfly, the Bird of Paradise are proof of the wonderful things produced by Creation?’ And I always say, well, when you say that, you’ve also got to think of a little boy sitting on a river bank, like here, in West Africa, that’s got a little worm, a living organism, in his eye and boring through the eyeball and is slowly turning him blind. The Creator God that you believe in, presumably, also made that little worm. Now I personally find that difficult to accommodate…

But I see in the clothes a symbol of continuing life. And proof that I still want to be myself. If I must drool, I may as well drool on cashmere.

Like the bath, my old clothes could easily bring back poignant, painful memories. But I see in the clothing a symbol of continuing life. And proof that I still want to be myself. If I must drool, I may as well drool on cashmere.

,Grown-ups love figures. When you describe a new friend to them, they never ask you about the important things. They never say 'What's his voice like? What are his favourite games? Does he collect butterflies?' Instead they demand 'How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much does his father earn?' Only then do they feel they know him. If you say to the grown-ups: 'I've seen a lovely house made of pink brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the rood', they are unable to picture such a house. You must say: I saw a house that come a hundred thousand francs.' Then they cry out: 'How pretty!' Again, you might say to them: 'The proof that the little prince existed is that he was enchanting, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. When someone wants a sheep, it is proof that they exist.' The grown-ups will merely shrug their shoulders, and treat you like a child. But if you tell them: 'The planet he came from is Asteroid B 612', then they will be convinced, and will spare you all their question. That is how they are. You must not hold it against them. Children have to be very indulgent towards grown-ups.

Scars are proof of survival, they shouldn’t be hidden—it’s a story someone may need to see in order to believe that beyond their pain and suffering, there is healing.

Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness yet still become something beautiful.

So at 12:31pm, when he decided not to- when he came down, when the road opened- I did, too, my whole world, my whole mind went home with living proof of what I'd only before known in theory: that we are truly not alone in this, that our veins are absolutely strings tied to other people's kites, that our lives are connected. That my butterflies are never gone, they're just flying around in someone else's belly sometimes'.

He pulled me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. A sob rose to my throat but I choked it down, and held him tight. As tight as he held me, and wherever we touched became proof to one another that we were not alone.

Change can be beautiful; butterflies are the greatest proof of this.

Your end can be greater than your beginning: butterflies are the greatest proof of this.

Some cognitive scientists believe human response to music provides evidence that we are more than just flesh and blood—that we also have souls. Their thinking is as follows: All reactions to external stimuli can be traced back to an evolutionary rationale. You pull your hand away from fire to avoid physical harm. You get butterflies before an important speech because the adrenaline running through your veins has caused a physiological fight-or-flight response. But there is no evolutionary context within which people’s response to music makes sense—the tapping of a foot, the urge to sing along or get up and dance, there’s just no survival benefit to these activities. For this reason, some believe that our response to music is proof that there’s more to us than just biological and physiological mechanics—that the only way to be moved by the spirit, so to speak, is to have one in the first place. There

are not to have, in any object of use or ornament, what would be a contradiction in fact.  You don’t walk upon flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed to walk upon flowers in carpets.  You don’t find that foreign birds and butterflies come and perch upon your crockery; you cannot be permitted to paint foreign birds and butterflies upon your crockery.  You never meet with quadrupeds going up and down walls; you must not have quadrupeds represented upon walls.  You must use,’ said the gentleman, ‘for all these purposes, combinations and modifications (in primary colours) of mathematical figures which are susceptible of proof and demonstration.  This is the new discovery.  This is fact.  This is taste.’   The

By the time she had picked every visible corpse off her property, the heap included ants, beetles and cockroaches, different kinds of spiders, some bees, flies, a wasp, two fetid lizard skins and the brittle remains of their skeletons, six butterflies, a stick insect the length of her forearm, two dragonflies, a handful of crickets and other creatures that in the world of naming remained untitled. The collection measured a full hand deep. She paid no attention to the odour rising out of the bucket. The scent of decay was not offensive to her. It was the aroma of life refusing to end. It was the aroma of transformation. Such odour was proof that nothing truly ended, and she revelled in it as much as she did the cereus blossoms along the back wall of the house.

In 1963, the chaos theorist Edward Lorenz presented an often-referenced lecture entitled “Does the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wings in Brazil Set Off a Tornado in Texas?” Lorenz’s main point was that chaotic mathematical functions are very sensitive to initial conditions. Slight differences in initial conditions can lead to dramatically different results after many iterations. Lorenz believed that this sensitivity to slight differences in the beginning made it impossible to determine an answer to his question. Underlying Lorenz’s lecture was the assumption of determinism, that each initial condition can theoretically be traced as a cause of a final effect. This idea, called the “Butterfly Effect,” has been taken by the popularizers of chaos theory as a deep and wise truth. However, there is no scientific proof that such a cause and effect exists. There are no well-established mathematical models of reality that suggest such an effect. It is a statement of faith. It has as much scientific validity as statements about demons or God.

every man endowed with reason may know that God did not create His creation to no purpose, and did not abandon His creatures to their fate; that he overlooked nothing, left nothing without his distinctive mark, nothing in disorder or unprotected; that He makes no mistakes in His wondrous farsightedness and no detail of His dispositions fails him, nor yet the beauty of wisdom and the glory of the powerful proof. All of that activity extends to everything from the louse and the butterfly to the seven celestial spheres and the seven climates of the globe.

Butterflies are God's proof that we can have a second life.

You are to be in all things regulated and governed,’ said the gentleman, ‘by fact. We hope to have, before long, a board of fact, composed of commissioners of fact, who will force the people to be a people of fact, and of nothing but fact. You must discard the word Fancy altogether. You have nothing to do with it. You are not to have, in any object of use or ornament, what would be a contradiction in fact. You don’t walk upon flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed to walk upon flowers in carpets. You don’t find that foreign birds and butterflies come and perch upon your crockery; you cannot be permitted to paint foreign birds and butterflies upon your crockery. You never meet with quadrupeds going up and down walls; you must not have quadrupeds represented upon walls. You must use,’ said the gentleman, ‘for all these purposes, combinations and modifications (in primary colours) of mathematical figures which are susceptible of proof and demonstration. This is the new discovery. This is fact. This is taste.

She had twisted and turned from the fever, until one side of her nightgown was rolled up above her waist and the covers were off. He couldn’t help but notice the length of her legs and the slender curve of her hip. And, while he wasn’t going to mess with her gown and take the chance of waking her up, he could pull the covers back over her. It wasn’t until he bent down to grab the blankets that he saw the small tattoo on her hip. His eyes widened. He looked at her profile. Even asleep, she appeared daunting. But this little tattoo was proof that there might be a softer side to Catherine Dupree. The tattoo was a butterfly—and it was pink. Who would ever have believed that Cat Dupree would be the kind of woman to have a girly thing like that? Barbed wire? Yes. A skull and crossbones? Sure. A snake with fangs exposed? Plausible. But a tattoo of a small pink butterfly on her butt? Priceless.

The ceremony was beautiful, and as Hope and Mark stood beneath the towering floral arch, I couldn't help but think this scene truly looked like something out of a fairytale wedding. I even started feeling a little emotional--- until they started to recite their vows. Hope had told me earlier that she and Mark had written their own vows but failed to say more about them. At first, I thought my hearing had failed or I was having some kind of stroke. "What language is that?" I whispered to Dom from our perch in the back. "I... I actually think it's a pretend language," he replied. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "What do you mean pretend language?" "Do you have one of the programs with you?" he asked. "I bet there's a note in there about it." "No, but let me grab one." I didn't have to go far before I found the table at the back of the aisle and a basket full of programs. Each program was iridescent, in the shape of a flower with a beautiful lilac ribbon tied at the bottom. Under the order of service, a small line read: "The bride and groom have chosen to recite their own vows to one another in their favorite mythical tongue: Sindarin, one of the Elvish languages of Tolkein." My eyes were wide as saucers. Both the Elvish and English translations were printed below for everyone to follow along. Dom was going to lose it for sure. I quietly moved back to my seat next to Dom, who was still filming. "You're not going to believe what I'm about to tell you," I whispered as I casually fanned myself with the floral program. "What is it?" he asked. "It's Elvish," I said, holding back a laugh. "What?" he replied a little too loud. "Keep your voice down," I said, now pointing to the line in the program as proof. "Like, from The Lord of the Rings?" "I can't believe she didn't mention this to me earlier," I said. "But yes, I think so. This wedding is just full of surprises." "For once, I'm at a loss for words," Dom said. "They are clearly perfect for each other if this was something they both enjoyed. I bet they go to all those conferences for people who like fantasy stuff." "Maybe that's what they're doing for their honeymoon," I added. "I haven't asked them about it yet. If it is, I'm going to die." We were both holding back giggles at this point, but thankfully the couple finished reciting whatever it was they were saying to each other. I wondered whether we'd need to add subtitles to our video if we showed this part of the ceremony. As soon as the officiant pronounced them man and wife, the ceremony musicians played a set of chimes and the officiant asked for every guest to open the small box that was placed at the base of every bench. Inside each box was a butterfly that flew into the air and fluttered around the entire area above all the guests. I supposed that since real fairies weren't available, butterflies were the next best option. It was actually the perfect ending to this mythical ceremony, and everyone cheered in delight.

Then all events will become for you, a past that has passed and ended, and their occurrence is inevitable unless you intervene to change them, and manipulate them, but first, you need to know what their new shape will look like, and most importantly, where and how powerful will be the needed change to bring about the required change, in order to reset the scene, rearrange the occurrence of events, and the consequences of changing the hierarchy of their intersection. If you kill a butterfly, it will not flap its wings in the next hour, and what may result from this negligible change, may be the end of all humanity, or the occurrence of a horrific massacre, in which millions of people are killed without sin, except that they are religious, or farmers, or those with longer noses, just like holistically. He is on a date with the answer as the Alpha headquarters have proof of this.

Another great boon occurred when Kelly discovered an effective trauma approach that taught her how to regulate her arousal (which triggered the dissociative episodes), get grounded, and come into the present. Her therapist was kind and reflected back to Kelly the good things she saw in her. Slowly Kelly began to experience herself as a person who was separate from everyone else and who had numerous positive qualities. Kelly learned that this adult self, who was present right now, was proof that the wispy, barely existing child had existed and had survived. She describes how shocked she was to discover this. Perhaps it is a similar shock when the butterfly breaks out of the cocoon and discovers that it is not the caterpillar it remembered.