Quotes About Change

it means that disruptive technologies that may underperform today, relative to what users in the market demand, may be fully performance-competitive in that same market tomorrow.

The perfectly measured burr of a dispassionate detective had suddenly changed into the explosive boom of a take-no-shit street cop. Suffice it to say, I froze.

If you ever find yourself in the wrong story, leave. —Mo Willems, Goldilocks and the Three Dinosaurs

The pendulum had swung too far, as always, and now was swinging back, and the horror of intolerance had been loosed upon the land.

He stood and watched his friend hobble around the house, felt the cold claw of loneliness reach out and touch him with icy fingers. A terrible loneliness. The loneliness of age—of age and the outdated.

University politics," declared Oop, "doesn't care about liberal traditions or any other kind of traditions.

But the bars that held you, the bars that kept you in were the luxury and soft living. It is hard to walk out on a thing like that

For we thought all the time that we were passing through time when we really weren't, when we never have. We've just been moving along with time. We said, there's another second gone, there's another minute and another hour and another day, when, as a mater of fact the second or the minute or the hour was never gone. It was the same one all the time. It had just moved along and we have moved with it.

They would fail. We would always fail. We weren't built to do anything but fail. We had the wrong kind of motives and we couldn't change them. We had a built-in short-sightedness and an inherent selfishness and a self-concern that made it impossible to step out of the little human rut we traveled…

Has it ever occurred to you that business as you think of it may have outlived its usefulness? Business has made its contribution and the world moves on. Business is just another dodo. . . .

Your kind of politics is dead. They are dead because any tinhorn with a loud mouth and a brassy front could gain power by appeal to mob psychology. And you haven't got mob psychology anymore. You can't have mob psychology when people don't give a damn what happens to a thing that's dead already—a political system that broke down under its own weight.

And that day the cultural god of science had shone a bit less brightly, had died a little in the people's minds.

Your kind of politics is dead. They are dead because any tinhorn with a loud mouth and a brassy front could gain power by appeal to mob psychology.

The once all-important thing had been buried by more than fifty years of other all-important matters.

Love is like being burned in flames then plunged into icy water. Love leaves scars and broken hearts. Your emotions change from one second to the next.

If you reach a crossroads and your destination is to the left and by mistake you turn right, the further you travel along the wrong road the further you will move away from your destination. It is not easy to turn back, to change your mind. Sometimes, you have to in order to survive.

There must still be room for the falling note, of course. Even in an undying world there are times when beauty passes from sight, or love passes from the heart, and we feel the sorrow of partition.

The world had seen so many Ages: the Age of Enlightenment; of Reformation; of Reason. Now, at last, the Age of Desire. And after this, an end to Ages; an end, perhaps, to everything.

Life was not a reversible commodity. Things passed away, never to return: species, hopes, years.

And to think, she'd once had the hots for him, back in the old days (six months ago) when razor-thin men with noses like Durante and an encyclopaedic knowledge of de Niro movies had really been her style. Now she saw him for what he was, flotsam from a lost ship of hope. Still a pill-freak, still a theoretical bisexual, still devoted to early Polanski movies and symbolic pacifism.

Nothing's perfect... because time passes... and the beetle and the worm find their way into everything sooner or later.

The century's getting old and stale; it needs new tribes.

To be able to fly ? To be smoke , or a wolf ;to know the night , and live in it forever ? That's not so bad . You call us monsters . But when you dream it's of flying , and changing , and living without death .

Everything tires with time, and starts to seek some opposition, to save it from itself. So August gave way to September and there were few complaints.