Quotes About Metamorphosis

It is the kind of fighting where you go in as pigs and come out sausage,

Everything was something else before and will be something else after.

Aria Crosses Over

I'm taking my time trying to transition because the Aaron Carter you saw back then - now [I'm] a completely different person.

I'm amazed every time I come back to Vancouver at how much it's changed. You go away for a month and there's three more skyscrapers.

Art and power will go on as they have done,--will make day out of night, time out of space, and space out of time.

Butterflies doing strange things in very beautiful ways were in my mind when I sat down, but by the time my pen was uncapped my thoughts had shifted to rocks.

Reincarnation is happening all the time. Every moment we are going through a change. Our being isn't solid. Reincarnation is now.

I awake with a not entirely sickened knowledge that I am merely young again and in a funny way at peace, an observer who is aware of time's chariot, aware that some metamorphosis has occurred.

Just as when water is frozen in to a form as ice and then melts - so at the time of death, there is no death. The spirit simply changes form.

Time is change, transformation, evolution.

Morphology happens over time. It's not necessarily a bad thing.

Like one time I was a fish in Noah's Ark and now I'm in Harry Potter, a big step.

It's like one big lending library out there. A piece of what was once a star or something, a flower or a willow tree, when it is finished bein' that might be loaned away an' become a fish or a person's fingernail or evaporate into the sky and be a rainbow. That the—what did he call 'em?—stuff that makes your atoms up an' mine, that stuff mixed up a little different is the sum of all the stuff that's in existence.

A moment of crisis can be a moment of growth, as the wounded self prepares to transform. From the chrysalis of my pain, I will forge my healing—the wings of my newborn self.

I was becoming the cold, emotionally crippled monster I always wanted to be, and I wasn't so sure I liked it. But it was too late. The metamorphosis was already well under way.

The store of fairy tales, that blue chamber where stories lie waiting to be rediscovered, holds out the promise of just those creative enchantments, not only for its own characters caught in its own plotlines; it offers magical metamorphoses to the one who opens the door, who passes on what was found there, and to those who hear what the storyteller brings. The faculty of wonder, like curiosity can make things happen; it is time for wishful thinking to have its due.

The seductive invitation of metamorphosis - of turning into something other — has continued to suffuse fantasies of identity; on the one hand holding out a way of escape from humanity, on the other annihilating the self.

A literatura é como um corpo vivo que se vai transformando segundo o contexto em que habita

The physical reinvention of the world is endless, relentless, fascinating, exhaustive; nothing that seems solid is. If you could stand at just a little distance in time, how fluid and shape-shifting physical reality would be, everything hurrying into some other form, even concrete, even stone.

everything had changed but nothing was altered.

She thought about the men with bows and arrows. They were really here, weren't they, once upon a time. And mammoths and ladies in crinolines and Spitfires overhead. Places remained and time flowed through them like wind through the grass. Right now. This was the future turning into the past. One thing becoming another thing. Like a flame on the end of a match. Wood turning into smoke. If only we could burn brighter. A barn roaring in the night.

To journey without being changed is to be a nomad. To change without journeying is to be a chameleon. To journey and to be transformed by the journey is to be a pilgrim.

life becomes a living of who we are until that form of self can no longer hold us, and, like Taaora in his shell, we must break the forms that contain us in order to birth our way into the next self. This is how we shed our many ways of seeing the world, not that any are false, but that each serves its purpose for a time until we grow and they no longer serve us.