Quotes About Change

Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day.

It is remarkable…what a change of temper a fixed income will bring about.

I am never stagnant; I rise from my worst disasters, I turn, I change.

There is the strange power we have of changing facts by the force of the imagination.

I burn, I shiver, out of this sun, into this shadow.

Change was incessant, and change perhaps would never cease. High battlements of thought, habits that had seemed as durable as stone, went down like shadows at the touch of another mind and left a naked sky and fresh stars twinkling in it.

The future is dark, which is the best thing the future can be, I think.

Let us simmer over our incalculable cauldron, our enthralling confusion, our hotchpotch of impulses, our perpetual miracle - for the soul throws up wonders every second. Movement and change are the essence of our being; rigidity is death; conformity is death; let us say what comes into our heads, repeat ourselves, contradict ourselves, fling out the wildest nonsense, and follow the most fantastic fancies without caring what the world does or thinks or says. For nothing matters except life.

There is a coherence in things, a stability; something... is immune from change and shines out... in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby.

How fast the stream flows from January to December!

Oh, but she never wanted James to grow a day older or Cam either. These two she would have liked to keep for ever just as the way they were, demons of wickedness, angels of delight, never to see them grow up into long-legged monsters.

I rise from my worst disasters, I turn, I change.

The weather varies between heavy fog and pale sunshine; My thoughts follow the exact same process.

It partook ... of eternity ... there is a coherence in things, a stability; something, she meant, is immune from change, and shines out (she glanced at the window with its ripple of reflected lights) in the face of the flowing, the fleeting, the spectral, like a ruby; so that again tonight she had the feeling she had had once today, already, of peace, of rest. Of such moments, she thought, the thing is made that endures.

Do you think people change? I meant ourselves — do we change?

I have lost friends, some by death—Percival—others through sheer inability to cross the street.

A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.

I am rooted, but I flow. All gold, flowing that way.

Here am I shedding one of my life-skins and all they will say is, 'Bernard is spending ten days in Rome'.

Something irrevocable has happened. A circle has been cast on the waters; a chain is imposed. We shall never flow freely again.

We are all swept on by the torrent of things grown so familiar that they cast no shade...

Everyone has friends who were killed in the War. Everyone gives up something when they marry.

When they were alone, they said nothing. They looked at the view; they looked at what they knew, to see if what they knew might perhaps be different today. Most days it was the same.

These two she would have liked to keep for ever just as they were, demons of wickedness, angels of delight, never to see them grow up into long-legged monsters.