Quotes About Change

By then I wasn't just asking questions; I was being changed by them. I was being changed by my prayers, which dwindled down nearer and nearer to silence, which weren't confrontations with God but with the difficulty--in my own mind, or in the human lot--of knowing what or how to pray. Lying awake at night, I could feel myself being changed--into what, I had no idea.

I had changed, and the sign of it was only that my own death seemed to me by far the least important thing in my life.

Time doesn't stop. Your life doesn't stop and wait until you get ready to start living it.

The world doesn't stop because you are in love or in mourning or in need of time to think. And so when I have thought I was in my story or in charge of it, I really have only been on the edge of it.

Novelty is a new kind of loneliness.

You think winter will never end, and then, when you don't expect it, when you have almost forgotten it, warmth comes and a different light.

If change is to come, it will have to come from the margins.

As I did not know then but know now, the surface of the river is like a living soul, which is easy to disturb, is often disturbed, but, growing calm, shows what it was, is, and will be.

The river, the river itself, leaves marks but bears none. It is only water flowing in a path that other water has worn.

You may say that I am just another outdated old man complaining about progress and the changes of time. But, you see, I have well considered that possibility myself, and am prepared o submit to correction by anybody who cares about a community, who can show me how the world is improved by that community's dying.

Back there in the beginning, as I see now, my life was all time and almost no memory. Though I knew early of death, it still seemed to be something that happened only to other people, and I stood in an unending river of time that would go on making the same changes and the same returns forever. And now, nearing the end, I see that my life is almost entirely memory and very little time.

The modern mind longs for the future as the medieval mind longed for Heaven. The great aim of modern life has been to improve the future—or even just to reach the future, assuming that the future will inevitably be "better.

I never again would be able to put my life in a box and carry it away.

Living right on called for nothing out of the ordinary. We made no changes. We only accepted the changes as they came.

In a multitude of cases, and in all cases where regeneration is spoken of, it means the whole soul; that is, it includes the intellect, will, and the conscience as well as the affections. Hence the Bible speaks of the eyes, of the thoughts, of the purposes, of the devices, as well as of the feelings or affections of the heart. In Scriptural language, therefore, a 'new heart' does not mean simply a new state of feeling, but a radical change in the state of the whole soul or interior man.

To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.

Every general increase of freedom is accompanied by some degeneracy, attributable to the same causes as the freedom.

The White House elected to power in November 2008 campaigned on compelling promises of hope, change, and bringing the nation together. The reality it delivered for eight years was rather different: a brand of leadership that was narcissistic, aggressively secular, ideologically divisive, resistant to compromise, unwilling to accept responsibility for its failures, and generous in spreading blame. As

People who hold a classic understanding of sexuality, marriage, and family have gone in just twenty years from pillars of mainstream conviction to the media equivalent of racists and bigots. So what do we do now? Patriotism,

Doing more of what doesn't work won't make it work any better

After Trump's defeat of Hillary Clinton, the Democrats need to perform an autopsy; Republicans need an exorcism.

Suppose that lad— Suppose time could be all mixed up so that the child of twenty years ago could look into the bathroom mirror and see himself reflected at thirty-three, as he saw himself now. What would he think, that boy? Would he have accepted it—is this what he dreamed of becoming? Would he accept it for a moment?

Instead of the fellow everyone had always been so fond of—friendly, social, good company, bright, lively—he had developed into a crafty sly masquerader, artful and elusive, presenting a front so different from his real self that they pretended to believe out of sheer embarrassment, as much to save his face as their own.

[On the fall of the Bastille:] How much the greatest event it is that ever happened in the world! and how much the best!