Quotes About Change

Blind obedience was never what I wanted. Yet, you seem determined to keep us in the past, where every act, every response, is either black or white, when you know damned good and well our lives never existed on such a plane.

Yet, it was different than it had been with Rowdy alone. She struggled to push aside the vague unease she felt. The lack of emotional warmth, of sharing that had come from being in bed upstairs, just her and Rowdy.

No, she didn't want him; she loved him. She loved him with a strength she hadn't believed in herself. That was, she'd loved him until this morning. Until he had offered her marriage, without the love. "Want isn't enough.

Love changes us, Son." Ray rose to his feet, crossing the room slowly to set his empty glass on the bar. "Don't make the same mistake I did, Rowdy. Once it's over that first time, once you've let another man claim what's yours and yours alone, you lose a part of your soul. Getting it back is hell. A hell I hope you never know.

There are many men like this; they can form a plausible theory and grasp its logical points, but take it away from them and destroy it utterly before their eyes, and they will not so easily lash their tired brains at once to build another theory in place of the one that is ruined.

all the wild ways he had shown me, mosses and rushes and heather, the home of the curlew and snipe, and the grazing grounds of the geese, all those enchanted fields and the magical willows lying under the edge of the bog, all were to be spoiled, hidden, sold and disenchanted by that terrible force named Progress.

The gardener hath gathered up this autumn's leaves. Who shall see them again, or who wot of them? And who shall say what hath befallen in the days of long ago?

Rodriguez seldom concerned himself with the past, holding that the future is all we can order the scheme of. And maybe even here he was wrong.

and I thought of the nations and unpitying Time

The need is not really for more brains, the need is now for a gentler, a more tolerant people than those who won for us against the ice, the tiger and the bear. The hand that hefted the ax, out of some old blind allegiance to the past fondles the machine gun as lovingly. It is a habit man will have to break to survive, but the roots go very deep.

To have dragons one must have change; that is the first principle of dragon lore.

The truth is, however, that there is nothing very "normal" about nature. Once upon a time there were no flowers at all.

Out of the choked Devonian waters emerged sight and sound and the music that rolls invisible through the composer's brain. They are there still in the ooze along the tideline, though no one notices. The world is fixed, we say: fish in the sea, birds in the air. But in the mangrove swamps by the Niger, fish climb trees and ogle uneasy naturalists who try unsuccessfully to chase them back to the water. There are things still coming ashore.

At one time, Madison Street had been quietly residential, curving gently to a rural road below, but the city had reached out like a hungry blob of protoplasm and engulfed us.

Just remember, being young is nice, but being old is comfortable.

You needn't consult me about redecorating. I know no female can live two days in a house and leave anything as it was. I shall be much astonished if I can find my way about when I return.

You've got to continue to grow, or you're just like last night's corn bread-stale and dry.

Un hombre inteligente siempre sabe cuando retirarse a tiempo...pero un hombre aun mas inteligente sabe cuando volver a empezar

If you try going silver and don't like it, you are just one box of hair color or one salon appointment away from dyeing it back again.

Every day is a new day and you've got to just go with the flow.

When you find out who you are, you will no longer be innocent. That will be sad for others to see. All that knowledge will show on your face and change it. But sad only for others, not for yourself. You will feel you have a kind of wisdom, very mistaken, but a mistake of some power to you and so you will sadly treasure it and grow it.

I've accrued a kind of patience, I believe, loosely like change.

Blasts from the past were like the rooms one entered and re-entered in dreams: they would not stay nailed down. When you returned to them, they had changed - they suddenly had more space or a tilt or a door that had not been there before. New people were milling around, the floors undulated, and the sun shone newly, strangely in the windows, or through the now blasted-open ceiling, or else it shone not at all, as if having fled the sky.

Where does love go? When something you have taped on the wall falls off, what has happened to the stickum? It has relaxed. It has accumulated an assortment of hairs and fuzzies. It has said Fuck it and given up. It doesn't go anywhere special, it's just gone. Energy is created, and then it is destroyed. So much for the laws of physics. So much for chemistry. So much for not so much.