Quotes About Metamorphosis

Podía transformar a un pez en pájaro, pelear con mi leona y luego echarme sobre su vientre con la melena suelta. Quería esuchar sus gritos y resuellos. ¡Me ha mirado! ¡Me voy a convertir en rana!

The horse's muscular legs ended in flesh, the equally muscular torso of a man. I stared—at that impossible suture of horse and human, where smooth skin became a gleaming brown coat.

I'm always this color," I said. "Because I used to be made of stone.

I'm always this colour,' I said. 'Because I used to be made of stone'.

Obviously, it's a huge deal when your little girl starts to turn into a woman, but the change has a gentle fluidity, so it seems to happen like time-lapse photography of a flower blooming.

There is nothing you can throw at me that I cannot metabolize, no thing impervious to my alchemy.

I invent her, then, as a woman emerging from the sea. A tall man meets here on the black sand. You've come back, he says. Can barely see her in the sea-light. They make love there, and become horses. As night grows black they become weeds

Really, though, it's more than a perfect match, as that implies a kind of stasis. Whereas we're always moving, shape-shifting. No matter what we do, it always feels dirty without feeling lousy.

This is what Lilly loves about London, that every building, street, common and square, has had different uses, that everything was once spomething else, that the present, was once the past ammended

and she can feel him switch from one character to another; she can sense that other, big-house, self melt off him, like wax sliding from a lit candle, revealing the man within.

My wife who, just a moment ago, was a dark, forbidding figure with a gun, a long gray coat, and a hat like Death's hood, she has shucked off the sou'wester and transmogrified back to her usual incarnation.

recommendations

Quiere ser una mariposa. ¿Las mariposas tienen recuerdos? Las mariposas son los recuerdos del que sabe cantar junto a las fuentes. ¿Y el canta? Aún es pequeño.

Behold how this drop of seawater has taken so many forms and names; it has existed as mist, cloud, rain, dew, and mud, then plant, animal, and Perfect man; and yet it was a drop of water from which these things appeared. Even so this universe of reason, soul, heavens, and bodies, was but a drop of water in its beginning and ending. ...When a wave strikes it, the world vanishes; and when the appointed time comes to heaven and stars, their being is lost in not being.

The features of our face are hardly more than gestures which force of habit has made permanent. Nature, like the destruction of Pompeii, like the metamorphosis of a nymph, has arrested us in an accustomed movement.

We must bear in mind that the character which a man exhibits in the latter half if his life is not always, though it often is, his original character developed or withered, attenuated or enlarged; it is sometimes the exact reverse, like a garment that has been turned.

And as each new character is merely a metamorphosis from something older, in these little grey balls I recognised green buds plucked before their time; but beyond all else the rosy, moony, tender glow which

They changed their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell.

But imagine you're a tapeworm, and then suddenly you're Goethe. It's like that.

comes immediately after.

You don't seem like the same man." "I'm not. Maybe nobody is, for long.

We shed skins in life, to keep living.

Do you think God wants a waterfall to be a tree?

There is no successful escaping from yourself in the long run, only transformation