Quotes About Change

Everytime I move, I make a woman's movement.

I have something to prove, as long as I know there's something that needs improvement, and you know that everytime I move, I make a woman's movement.

That trip to The City could not have lasted more than a few days, but because my universe exploded and was expanding at such a rapid speed, time stood still. Each experience imprinted itself on me like it would a newborn child. When I came home I think I called my mother and told her I was moving to New York and I think she said something to the effect of, "I trust your judgment." It took me a few years, but eventually, that's exactly what I did.

Be forever dead in Eurydice, and climb back singing. Climb praising as you return to connection. Here among the disappearing, in the realm of the transient, be a ringing glass that shatters as it rings. Be. And know as well the need to not be: let that ground of all that changes bring you to completion now. To all that has run its course, and to the vast unsayable numbers of beings abounding in Nature, add yourself gladly, and cancel the cost. Sonnets to Orpheus II, 13

Already my gaze is upon the hill, the sunlit one. The way to it, barely begun, lies ahead. So we are grasped by what we have not grasped, full of promise, shining in the distance. It changes us, even if we do not reach it, into something we barely sense, but are; a movement beckons, answering our movement . . . But we just feel the wind against us.

You can edit crap, but you can't edit nothing.

It will be a pity if women in the more conventional mould are to be phased out, for there will never be anyone to go home to.

The future is not always a whole new ball game. There tends to be unfinished business. One trails all sorts of things around with one, things that simply won't be got rid of.

A man can go from being a lover to being a stranger in three moves flat ... but a woman under the guise of friendship will engage in acts of duplicity which come to light very much later. There are different species of self-justification.

Parents are only good as parents at a certain stage of their children's lives, she reflected.

Old times, sad times. I feel better about them now than I did then.

They sat in silence until it was time for her to go. 'Go before he gets back,' said her mother. They stood up, embraced. Merle was shockingly aware of her daughter's changed appearance. 'Poor child, poor child,' she said. 'But she was a young woman,' protested Harriet. 'A beautiful young woman.' 'No, dear,' said her mother sadly. 'I meant you.

Perhaps what I was registering was nothing more than the passage of time, to which one should pay great attention, lest one remain fixed in past expectations, without noticing how foolish one had become.

Some time ago she had tried to substitute irony for longing, and had almost succeeded. That was why this alternative life so nearly appealed to her.

The weather was still fine, but waning in conviction, as if its hold on heat and light were growing weaker.

That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself.

nobody grows up. Everyone carries around all the selves that they have ever been, intact, waiting to be reactivated in moments of pain, of fear, of danger. Everything is retrievable, every shock, every hurt. But perhaps it becomes a duty to abandon the stock of time that one carries within oneself, to discard it in favour of the present, so that one's embrace may be turned outwards to the world in which one has made one's home.

death is only a small interruption.

Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.

The wheel turns and turns and turns: it never stops and stands still.

Time is not a ladder one ascends into the future but a ladder one descends into the past

Old Delhi does not change. It only decays. My students tell me it is a great cemetery, every house a tomb. Nothing but sleeping graves. Now [i]New[/i] Delhi, they say is different. That is where things happen. The way they describe it, it sounds like a nest of fleas. So much happens there, it must be a jumping place. I never go. Baba never goes. And here, here nothing happens at all.

Old Delhi does not change. It only decays. My students tell me it is a great cemetery, every house a tomb. Nothing but sleeping graves. Now New Delhi, they say is different. That is where things happen. The way they describe it, it sounds like a nest of fleas. So much happens there, it must be a jumping place. I never go. Baba never goes. And here, here nothing happens at all.

How can you possibly be an agent of positive change in the world when you are full of bitterness and hatred?