You never know you're in a bubble until it pops.
Happiness is like rising bubbles -- delightful and inevitably fleeting. Joy is the oxygen -- ever present.
Don't you wish you could take a single childhood memory and blow it up into a bubble and live inside it forever?
I think we all see the world from our own little unique bubble.
Any time I get to blow bubbles pretty much lights me up.
Miracles happen every day. They bubble up from their hidden source, surround us with opportunities and disappear.
Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves. They flickered out saying: "It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds.
Life is too short, too precious, too painful to waste on worldly bubbles that burst
Many of us spend our entire lives in the same bubble - we surround ourselves with people who share our opinions, speak the way we speak, and look the way we look. We fear leaving those familiar surroundings, which is natural, but through exploration of the unfamiliar we stop focusing on the labels that define WHAT we are and discover WHO we are.
Life is mostly froth and bubble
Days are coloured bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless nights.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
If you love something, set it free.
Oh, for the wonder that bubbles into my soul.
But all bubbles have a way of bursting or being deflated in the end.
We live in a strange bubble.
Relationships are like bubbles – they’re fragile.
Therapy is extremely expensive. Popping bubble wrap is radically cheap.
Keep puffing on the bubble until it breaks its confining walls and becomes the sea of joy.
Photography, like any other art, is a form of communication. The artist is not blowing bubbles for his own gratification, but is speaking a language, is telling somebody something.
If possible, avoid being a bubble; for a bubble, even the gentlest touch is fatal.
Enthusiasm just creates bubbles; it doesn't keep them from popping.
I have seen youths bright eyed and fair groping after bubbles in rapture, and conceiving them diamonds and the glitter of fine jewels, until their hand closed over a something that was not to be felt nor longer seen, mere colored air.
Joy bubbles on a fountain of doubt.
When I open my eyes to the outer world I feel myself as a drop in the sea. But when I close my eyes and look within, I see the whole universe as a bubble raised in the ocean of my heart.
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