A season of loneliness and isolation is when the caterpillar gets its wings. Remember that next time you feel alone.

In order to butterfly kiss, does it require caterpillar lips?

My brain is divided into two butterflies, and both are in love with your rose-shaped heart. If you’ve got the garden, I’ve got my whole life.

and when all the wars are over, a butterfly will still be beautiful.

Butterfly upon my hand, A voice of wonder within my mind, not my own but the butterfly’s.

Don’t be so stuck in a situation or feeling that when the tide turns you can’t see the transformation or manifestation. The caterpillar eventually turns into a butterfly. You will need to determine which perspective...

I morphed from a fly to a flower to a butterfly, which is like a combination flower and fly. I thought I was in love, but I was merely asleep.

What would it be like to live as a butterfly, being admired by the world for your color and beauty and grace? What would it be like to live as a spider, having people shriek...

… on these expanded membranes [butterfly wings] Nature writes, as on a tablet, the story of the modifications of species, so truly do all changes of the organisation register themselves thereon. Moreover, the same colour-patterns...

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

When I see a dancing butterfly, When I see a half blooming flower,Their eager wish to make this world happy,My mind dances with joy,My soul emerges in happiness.

The moth prefers the moon and detests the sun, while the butterfly loves the sun and hides from the moon. Every living creature responds to light. But depending on the amount of light you have...

Like a butterfly stuck in a chrysalis, waiting for the perfect moment, I was waiting for the day I could burst forth and fly away and find my home.

Butterfly KissesAged imperfectionsstitched upon my faceyears and years of wisdomearned by His holy grace.Quiet solitude in a humble homeall the family scattered nowlike nomads do they roam.Then a giftsent from abovea memorypure and tangiblewrapped in...

How wonderful it must be, I thought, to be able to just spread your wings whenever you like without someone following you around trying to swat you out of the sky.

To her, it was like asking a butterfly what it remembered about being a caterpillar. She could fly now and nothing could touch her when she left the cocoon of her body behind at night.

When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings.

A light rain touches my cheek like an angel’s butterfly kisses.

The larvae you see today would grow into a large butterfly tomorrow. Size is what you see now, allow the clock to tick, then check on the size again.

Jacksonville’s official bird is the butterfly. The butterfly is also Jacksonville’s official flower.

Once upon a time, I, Chuang Tzu, dreamt that i was a butterfly. flitting around and enjoying myself. I had no idea I was Chuang Tzu. Then suddenly I woke up and was Chuang Tzu...

He said that we belonged together because he was born with a flower and I was born with a butterfly and that flowers and butterflies need each other for survival.

The caterpillar becomes a pupa to meditate and then becomes a butterfly

Neither do we or any other thing on the planet. It’s butterflies’ abilities to happily fly despite everything around them that makes them free.

If the butterfly wings its way to the sweet light that attracts it, it’s only becasue it doesn’t know that the fire can consume it.

Caterpillar dun’ become butterfly-caterpillar die so butterfly can be. A new thing. We all must let ourselves die to be what we will be. But we cling to what we know.

When he laughed in his throat, the butterfly laughed at me too. It’s obscene fluttering corrupted me into darkness.

How does one become butterfly?’ Pooh asked pensively.’You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar,’ Piglet replied.’You mean to die?’ asked Pooh.’Yes and no,’ he answered....

She is like a butterfly, Beautiful to look at But hard to catch.

Story is a butterfly whose wings transport us to another world where we receive gifts that change who we are and who we want to be.

Beauty is where the beheld butterfly disappears from sight.

You can only chase a butterfly for so long.

Meditation is the process of transformation and beautification of soul from a leaf-eating caterpillar to a nectar-sipping butterfly. It grows with the wings of love and compassion.

…a butterfly is like the soul of a person, it dries out in captivity.

We’re different, you and I. I am a Rorschach Test, and you, you are a butterfly. No, wait, you are a bat. Actually, you are the Galapagos Islands. Or perhaps you are a failed Pollack...

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,when I don’t know, if you will ever come...

We are all butterflies. Earth is our chrysalis.

Just when the butterfly thought the world was over, it became a butterfly.

If you have WANNA, you can do ANYTHING!! – The Caterpillar That Wouldn’t Change

A withered maple leaf has left its branch and is falling to the ground; its movements resemble those of a butterfly in flight. Isn’t it strange? The saddest and deadest of things is yet so...

Why is a caterpillar wrapped in silk while it changes into a butterfly? So the other caterpillars can’t hear the screams. Change hurts

Love is like a buffalo with butterfly wings, and I’m just the humble man in the jetpack trying to shoot it down with a bow and arrow.

They open their wings, flash patterns and color, fly from flower toflower. I, with the dark brittles and many feet of the former form, inchalong the ground.Sometimes all I want is two armfuls of air,...

Love is a peaceful feeling, like a flower hugging a butterfly.

I sure wasn’t going to ask Aunt Sally, because if she told me once that getting your period was like a moth becoming a butterfly, she’d probably say that sexual intercourse was like a deer...

Love is not only the story of butterflies or birds; it is also the story of jackals and hounds

Our love went from fly to flower to butterfly, and it was meant to beautifully flutter, not sit still on a shelf like a trophy to be collected.

Sometimes a butterfly flaps its wings and the weather turns out fine.

She makes my heart flutter, like a butterfly with the wings of an eagle.

The struggle to leave the cocoon is what strengthens the butterfly’s wings so she can fly. I am about to become something beautiful.