Quotes About Change

La vie est incertaine, les changements engendrent de la peur et les impressions latentes sont sources de nombreuses douleurs.

4.33 The sequence of mutation occurs in every second, yet is comprehensible only at the end of a series.

Watching the day slowly bloom into night. That's how it always seemed to me: not the fading of a withered flower, but the opening of some dark, rich blossom, with unexpected hues and heavy scents.

that once were urgent and necessary for an orderly world and now were buried away, gathering dust and of no use to anyone.

Every moment is like a wheel with a hundred spokes in it. We ride always at the hub of the wheel and go forward as it turns. We ignore the array of other moments constantly turning around us. We are surrounded by doorways; we never open them.

Kir stood close to his father, watching. He seemed, Peri realized, finally becalmed; already he looked more like his mother, as if he were relinquishing his human experience. He found her looking at him wistfully; he gave her a sea-smile. She swallowed a briny taste of sadness in her throat. Already he was leaving her.

In sixteen years since then, she had changed beyond recognition, and he had not changed by a moment, being the same dispassionate, thin-haired wraith who had picked her up with his bony hands and tucked her into a book bag to add to the acquisitions of the royal library.

Easier to understand the wind . . . Easier to walk on the surface of the frothing sea, than to remember the hunger to do it. Easier to remember knowledge than ignorance, experience than innocence. Easier to know what you are than remember what you were.

Lydea was a blown flame; Lydea was yesterday; Lydea, alone on the streets of Ombria, was already changing into something neither of them would recognize, if she survived to see them again.

He is not here to help me with this; you must take his place.' Ducon started to speak, faltered. He stared at her, the bruise on his face suddenly vivid against his pallor, as if she had struck him.

an excerpt from The Dausi: Four times Wagadu rose. A great city, gleaming in the light of day. Four times Wagadu fell and disappeared from human sight. Once through vanity. Once through dishonesty. Once through greed. Once through discord. Four times Wagadu changed her name. First she was Dierra, then Agada, then Ghana, then Silla.

We are all emigrants from the same country — the land of childhood. What I want to do is write about the journey all of us have taken — or are in the process of taking — from that special place.

Most people, and certainly all members of Western civilization, are [...] born into a world which differs radically from that of their ancestors, with the result that most of human history is a closed book to them.

Suddenly, she employed those very English weapons: devious good manners and a rapid change of subject.

Maybe when you care, terribly, painfully, about the shape of the world, and you desire nothing but absolute, radical change, you protect yourself with abstraction, distance.

He resorted to tyranny—the favored fallback of English aristocrats when democracy wasn't going their way.

I knew those were precious times, Mama. I knew they were going by too fast, everybody knows that. Where I went wrong is, I thought that would protect me, the fact that I knew. Knew and appreciated, felt for a minute, and now… I don't know, something's going on with time, it's not passing the way it used to, and I hate it. Because you know it all comes down to is good-bye.

Her life was a series of zigzags. At nineteen, she was anxious.

What could be duller than past history!' Therese said, smiling. 'Maybe futures that won't have any history.

Hay algo más aburrido que la historia del pasado? -dijo Therese sonriendo. -Quizá un futuro sin historia.

Then he said, "That's a long way from stage designing, isn't it." She nodded. "Quite a long way." She started to ask him if he intended to do any work pertaining to the atom bomb, but she didn't, because what would it matter if he did or didn't?

Oh, in a different way now, because she was a different person, and it was like meeting Carol all over again, but it was still Carol and no one else. It would be Carol, in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and in hell.

She wanted two weeks of working among people she didn't know, doing the kind of work a million other people did. She wanted to step into someone else's shoes. She

It is then good to remember that artists have existed and persisted, like the snail and coelacanth and other changing forms of organic life since long before governments were dreamed of.