Quotes About Renewal

This is life, he thinks, this is why we live, to play like this on a day when winter is finally releasing its grip.

Every hour, Robert thinks, all over the globe, an infinite number of memories disappear, whole glowing atlases dragged into graves. But during that same hour children are moving about, surveying territory that seems to them entirely new. They push back the darkness; they scatter memories behind them like bread crumbs. The world is remade.

A good journal entry- like a good song, or sketch, or photograph- ought to break up the habitual and life away the film that forms over the eye, the finger, the tongue, the heart. A good journal entry ought to be a love letter to the world.

He wants to tell her that when things vanish they become something else, in death we rise again in the blades of grass, the splitting bodies of seeds.

Not-knowing is always more thrilling than knowing. Not-knowing is where hope and art and possibility and invention come from. It is not-knowing, that old, old thing, that allows everything to be renewed.

Does it matter? In memory, in story, in the end, we can remake our lives any way we need. To be surprised, truly and utterly surprised by what came into your life - this, Winkler was learning, was the true gift.

We return to the places we're from; we trample faded corners and pencil in new lines.

unchanging, everlasting, no months, no years, every hour like spring on the clearest, most gold-green morning, the dew like ·[diamonds?]·, the towers like honeycombs, and the western zephyr was the only breeze…

The last of autumn's leaves spiraling to earth.

Every thirty-one hundred years a volume of water equivalent to all the oceans passed through the atmosphere.

BohynÄ› dÄ›jin shlíží na zemi. JedinÄ› skrze ten nejžhavÄ›jÅ¡í ohe? je možno dosáhnout o?iÅ¡tÄ›ní. Vidí les umírajících slune?nic.

Storms rinse the sky...

Each time he returned, he looked slightly different, not merely older, but changed: a new accent, the cigarettes, three sharp knocks on the door. It was as if the city was entering his body and remaking it; he'd look at the low dark houses and wandering hens and farmers with their rope belts as if at film from another century.

A good journal entry—like a good song, or sketch, or photograph—ought to break up the habitual and lift away the film that forms over the eye, the finger, the tongue, the heart. A good journal entry ought be a love letter to the world. Leave home, leave the country, leave the familiar. Only then can routine experience—buying bread, eating vegetables, even saying hello—become new all over again.

We all go back to the mud. Until we rise again in ribbons of light.

We rise again in the grass. In the flowers. In songs.

The only reason why mankind has celebrated marriages is that they renew the race; they bring forth new life, within the bounds of a holy vow.

To meet with things newborn: for the Christian, that is the hope that burns brightly at Christmas, and Pentecost, and Easter.

I look on my divorce as a cleansing process. The water runs foul only when you step into the shower.' 'I'm sure.

I don't mean to be unkind. I liked her. She was young and charismatic and she had allowed her life to be stolen away from her. Although she never said as much, it was clear that Damian's death would give her a chance to start again.

The world was healing itself.

The blood of Christ has changed our standing before the sight of God. Our lives should demonstrate this glorious change before the sight of men.

Forgiveness provides hope, joy, and a bright future that nothing else can.

By taking to the road, we free ourselves of baggage, both physical and psychological. We walk back to our original condition, to our best selves.