Quotes About Change

The stories I made up for myself changed. In the half-sleep that preceded full sleep I began to imagine the highway that went north. No real road, this highway was shadowed by tall grass and ancient trees. Moss hung low and tiny birds with gray-blue wings darted from the road's edge to the trees.

In Rome there is a pathological shortage of small coins. For change, the little shops tend to use candy.

You've changed the metre,' said Philippa. 'I reserve the right,' said Lymond, 'to change the metre. Don't interrupt.

Age can mellow, they say.' 'They say wrong,' said Diccon Chancellor. 'I have known Mistress Philippa these two months, and I have aged while she has grown daily less mellow. Why else am I fleeing the country?

Our motive in locking it, if it matters, was to spare you the embarrassment of an interruption. Unless the comte de Sevigny of today is really so different from the Master of Culter of ten years ago?' Perfectly at his ease, the decorative young man he was addressing leaned back on the shutters and studied him. 'I hope so,' Lymond said. 'When you were twenty, Mr Erskine, you killed a priest in the belltower at Montrose. Would you do so again?

The board is clearing. The old game is almost played, and the pieces broken.

Lymond's life was lived on this level: the level on which the future of whole communities could be steered or reshaped, improved or jeopardized by a handful of people.

After five years of villainy, I promise you, I have the refinement of a cow-cabbage.

You rode sixty miles through the night for a brother who doesn't exist. I haven't been here for four years. I have been growing and changing, somewhere else, with different people, speaking a different language. The old ties are gone: my family wouldn't recognize me: what in God's name do you think I could find to say to them?

He is not immutable. No man can be.

So, although it was more than she ever dared hope for, it was not the same; and never would be.

Now she was wiser. In this brief and dizzying apprenticeship, she had started to realize that, whatever his occupation, Lymond's life was lived on this level: the level on which the future of whole communities could be steered or reshaped, improved or jeopardized by a handful of people.

And for Adam Blacklock the artist, older, wiser, and perhaps less vulnerable than once he had been, a chance to assess from maturity a person whose maturity was and always had been a thing disconcerting to witness. For what, after these violent years, would entertain or even interest Francis Crawford, Blacklock found he had no idea.

any country which has suffered a reverse of fortune instantly turns on its nonconformists.

Men throughout Scotland and over the narrow seas who lived different lives because they had known him. To carry his bright legacy into the future, he did not require to have children. No one, once they had met him, could remain the same.

So music to this man was a weight or a counter-weight, like those working the delicate wheels of Gaultier's automata. It would be interesting to know, thought Gaultier, what change of balance had created the need for it now.

And you can't adjust to bastardy?' He said evenly, 'Give me, perhaps, until tomorrow instead of today to achieve it.

You had good reason to hate me. I always understood that. I don't know why you should think differently now, but take care. Don't build up another false image. I may be the picturesque sufferer now, but when I have the whip-hold, I shall behave quite as crudely, or worse. I have no pretty faults. Only, sometimes, a purpose.

How old do you think he is?' said Sybilla placidly. 'To tell you the truth, I don't want him hanging about my petticoats for the rest of my life. He is, you must admit, a little disruptive in the home.

Unlike Kate, this girl had broken from her setting. All that Kate was, she now had. And standing on Kate's shoulders, something more, still growing; blossoming and yet to fruit. All that he was not.

I am trying to go back. I thought, believe it or not, that nothing could stop me from going back. I was wrong.

Quel changement, Strozzi had said, and it was true. The change was there, and not only in the chamois and lawn, replacing the velvet, the rubies, the gold tissue. It was as if all about him had been stripped down and cleansed and reduced, without blurring, to its true structure. And his eyes, which were smiling, were clear.

The moment is past. The chessboard has gone; and the people. You must let me take the room from you too.

Dear Kate, how understanding we were about funerals: how we shared in the weeping beforehand and the lightheartedness, the unsuitable laughter which followed. We've had a victory. We've won a battle whose importance perhaps no one yet knows, after a year of effort which has changed every one of us.