Life is short. If you doubt me, ask a butterfly. Their average life span is a mere five to fourteen days.
I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.
You are so young, Lyra, too young to understand this, but I shall tell you anyway and you'll understand it later: men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, clever; and they die almost at once. They die so soon that our hearts are continually racked with pain. We bear their children, who are witches if they are female, human if not; and then in the blink of an eye they are gone, felled, slain, lost. Our sons, too. When a little boy is growing, he thinks he is immortal. His mother knows he isn't. Each time becomes more painful, until finally your heart is broken. Perhaps that is when Yambe-Akka comes for you. She is older than the tundra. Perhaps, for her, witches' lives are as brief as men's are to us.
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.
[On her role as the witch "Willow", crossing over from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" (1997) to act in the episode "Orpheus" on the series "Angel" (1999), where her fiance, Alexis Denisof, is a regular:] "I finally get to spend a day with my honey, so that's really nervous coming in. I had butterflies in my stomach. I don't know why I was so nervous - maybe because I don't know how to pronounce half the lines I have to say today. They're in some made-up language".
When I was a girl I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars; I envied them so much. No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched.
I tell of hearts and souls and dances... Butterflies and second chances; Desperate ones and dreamers bound, Seeking life from barren ground, Who suffer on in earthly fate The bitter pain of agony hate, Might but they stop and here forgive Would break the bonds to breathe and live And find that God in goodness brings A chance for change, the hope of wings To rest in Him, and self to die And so become a butterfly.
That was the first thing I had to learn about her, and maybe the hardest I've ever had to learn about anything. That she is her own, and what she gives me is her choosing and the more precious because of it. Sometimes a butterfly will come sit on your open palm, but if you close your hand, one way or another, it and it's choice to be there are gone.
I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.
How to Write a Poem Catch the air around the butterfly.
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