Sentences with phrase «only felt magical»

Not exact matches

I'm truly honored to be a part of a company that feels like a family; a place where I refer to my peers as friends first, coworkers second; a place that I can wake up every morning and get excited about going to; a workplace environment that empowers its occupants to produce their absolute best work; and a place that is full of so much love, care, dedication, and selflessness that the only appropriate word that I can think of to describe it would have to be «magical».

but thats not what i'm talking about... i am discussing the god you claim to worship... even if you believe jesus was god on earth it doesn't matter for if you take what he had to say as law then you should take with equal fervor words and commands given from god itself... it stands as logical to do this and i am confused since most only do what jesus said... the dude was only here for 30 years and god has been here for the whole time — he has added, taken away, and revised everything he has set previous to jesus and after his death... thru the prophets — i base my argument on the book itself, so if you have a counter argument i believe you haven't a full understanding of the book — and that would be my overall point... belief without full understanding of or consideration to real life or consequences for the hereafter is equal to a childs belief in santa which is why we atheists feel it is an equal comparision... and santa is clearly a bs story... based on real events from a real historical person but not a magical being by any means!

I mean, that's one of the things that I guess made me want to be a writer; there was something almost magical about that, [that] not only can you put words together in such way that it gets somebody else to have a feeling just by reading it; you don't, but then I realized, you don't have to be there.

It looks so beautiful and magical, can only imagine the feeling of being in that room.

The grounds were not only impeccable but evokes a truly magical feeling.

Not only does this dress give us a mythical feeling that reminds us of childhood fairy tales, it's a magical sense brings together both a bohemian and classically feminine twist in a creative flair with the unusual mix of brown, white and lilac.

This sensational spinoff not only feels like a fresh angle on the magical world we think we know so well, but also takes into account how the young adults who first found these books and movies have grown, and may be craving something more sophisticated that they can share with their kids.

Despite pumping all that power through only the front wheels, Honda's magical suspension engineering nullifies the torque steer that makes lesser front - wheel - drive vehicles feel as if they tug to one side during heavy acceleration.

If you should decide to write a novel about a topic you know almost nothing about, a scholarly discipline requiring years to master, if you feel compelled to set the story in a land you've scarcely visited, during an era you can only dimly conjure from childhood reading and yellowed clippings, if you have followed your hyperactive and petulant imagination down a rabbit hole and there gazed at glowing, magical projections of inverted pyramids and pith - helmeted lunatics and pharaohs with unconventional appetites, but found little by way of actual knowledge, rest easy, because at the British Museum you will make a new friend: an expert who not only knows everything, but who is required — yes, required — to answer all your e-questions, no matter how many, how foolish, how wrong - headed, fantastic, or...

«Traveling can be brutal and harsh, but it could also be wonderful and magical, and only one thing is certain, traveling will make you feel more than you've ever felt before»

Park Güell is a place which seems to reflect the spirit of Barcelona's modernist heritage in the best way possible — after all, it was created by the one and only Antoni Gaudi and that's why it exudes a magical, stimulating and a bit surreal atmosphere, making you feel as if you were a character of a fairy tale.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

I feel nostalgia and meloncholia returning to the house where I grew up, not to mention my college, which is only 30 years ago, which was also once undeveloped, magical, clean, green pastoral hills and glorious Oak Trees.