Quotes About Change

above, far above, We don't know where we'll fall. Far above, far above, What once was great is rendered small.

Development is a treacherous river, as everyone who plunges into its currents knows.

Kusi?o mnie, ?eby zobaczy?, co jest dalej, po drugiej stronie. Zastanawia?em si?, co si? prze?ywa, przechodz?c granic?. Co si? czuje? Co my?li? Musi to by? moment wielkiej emocji, poruszenia, napi?cia. Po tamtej stronie - jak jest? Na pewno - inaczej. Ale co znaczy to - inaczej? Jaki ma wygl?d? Do czego jest podobne? A mo?e jest niepodobne do niczego, co znam, a tym samym niepoj?te, niewyobra?alne.

However, man when he is alone is usually more 'human' than when he is a member of a crowd, an excited mass. Individually we are wiser and better, less inscrutable. Becoming part of a group can change the same quiet, friendly individual into a devil.

Gradually, the nations living in this cradle of mankind, having created great, monumental civilizations, as if exhausted by the superhuman effort, or perhaps even crushed by the immensity of what they had brought forth and no longer capable of further developing it, handed over the reins to younger peoples, bursting with energy and eager to live. Europe will come on the scene and, later, America.

The political stage revolves many times faster than the stage of our daily existence. Regimes change, governing parties and their leaders change, but man lives just as he previously had—he still does not have an apartment or a job; the houses are still shabby, and there are potholes in the roads; the arduous task of making ends meet still goes on from dawn to dusk.

pequeños países del Tercer Mundo tienen la posibilidad de despertar un vivo interés sólo cuando se deciden a derramar sangre. Es una triste verdad, pero así es.

Whoever sits down behind a desk begins to think differently; his vision of the world and his hierarchy of values change.

Today, nothing remains of these gradations. Air travel tears us violently out of snow and cold and hurls us that very same day into the blaze of the tropics.

Idle and superfluous all day long, all at once they had become visible, needed, and

The Irish 'peasant' is the child of time. He is its guardian and its slave. He will preserve for centuries dull and foolish habits that those who neither love nor fear time or change will quickly cast aside; but he will also preserve dear, ancient habits that like wine and ivory grow more beautiful and precious with age, all jumbled with the useless lumber in that dusty cockloft which is his ancestral mind.

Los más inflexibles pensamientos son los más prestos a caer.

why bother remembering a past that cannot be made into a present?

The task is not to find the lovable object, but to find the object before you lovable – whether given or chosen – and to be able to continue finding this one lovable, no matter how that person changes. To love is to love the person one sees.

for our times are not satisfied with faith and not even with the miracle of changing water into wine - they 'go right on,' changing wine into water.

As the ironist does not have the new within his power, it might be asked how he destroys the old, and to this it must be answered: he destroys the given actuality by the given actuality itself.

It is in your power to review your life, to look at things you saw before, but from another point of view

By comparison with a passionate age, an age without passion gains in scope what is loses in intensity .

Let the thunder of a hundred cannon remind you three times daily to resist the force of habit.

Only the lower natures forget themselves and become something new. For instance, the butterfly has entirely forgotten that it was a caterpillar; perhaps in turn it can forget that it was a butterfly so completely that it can become a fish. The

However, a self, every instant it exists, is in process of becoming, for the self [potentially] does not actually exist, it is only that which it is to become. In so far as the self does not become itself, it is not its own self; but not to be one's own self is despair.

it is not worth while to remember that past which cannot become a present.

Vain mustalaisilla ja rosvoilla ja huijareilla on tunnuslauseenaan, että sinne, missä kerran on käyty, ei pidä koskaan tulla toista kertaa.

For when an old man relives his life, he lives it only by dwelling upon his memories; and when wisdom in an old man has outgrown the immediate impressions of life, the past viewed from the quiet of memory is something different from the present in all its bustle. The time of work and of strain, of merrymaking and of dancing is over. Life requires nothing more of the old man and he claims nothing more of it. By