Quotes About Change

We were gods then. But even gods must descend from their high thrones upon occasion.

There will be no more offerings, neither child nor parent. There will be no more sacrifices. The time of obedience and atonement is past. Either help us as a friend, or go away!

watch as the dense forest shifts from chrome yellow to a translucent saffron and then slowly fades through ocher to umber to gloom.

Soon she would have to wake, tend the fire, serve the men, care for the younger children, and face the end of a childhood she had barely known. Soon she would become the property of a man other than her father, and on that day she would receive the traditional Hindu blessing—May you have eight sons.

that strange elasticity of the human heart in finding new relationships, new people to share one's life with, new potentials.

that evolution is not progress, that there is no 'goal' or direction to evolution. Evolution is change. Evolution 'succeeds' if that change best adapts some leaf or branch of its tree of life to conditions of the universe.

The only thing that had changed was that the bills were bigger.

Then I saw a wan face Not pinned by human sorrows, but bright blanched By an immortal sickness which kills not; It works a constant change, which happy death Can put no end to; deathwards progressing To no death was that visage; it had passed The lily and the snow; and beyond these

Sol had spent his life willing the return of things unreturnable. He remembered the day he had come upon Sarai folding Rachel's toddler clothes and setting them in a box in the attic, and he recalled her tears and his own sense of loss for the child they still had but who was lost to them through the simple arrow of time. Sol

The human genome . . . the human soul . . . distrusts homogeneity, Raul. It – they – are always ready to take a chance, to risk change and diversity.

We've been stuck in one species since our Cro-Magnon ancestors helped to wipe out the smarter Neanderthals

Barbarians, we call them, while all the while we timidly cling to our Web like Visigoths crouching in the ruins of Rome's faded glory and proclaim ourselves civilized. Within

Anything is better than this penny-dreadful tale I've found myself in.

The Church might have died before this revelation could have brought new life to it. But

Mountaineers know that all mountains are in a constant state of collapse—their verticality being inescapably and inevitably worn down every moment by wind, water, weather, and gravity—but

Il genoma umano, l'anima umana, diffida dell'omogeneità, Raul. È sempre pronto a cogliere al volo l'occasione, a correre il rischio del cambiamento e della diversità.

It's wonderful to preserve tradition, but a healthy organism evolves Ã¢â'¬Â¦ culturally and physically.

We are in a comfortable Dark Ages of the inventive mind; institutions change but little, and that by gradual evolution rather than revolution; scientific research creeps crablike in a lateral shuffle, where once it leaped in great intuitive bounds; devices change even less, plateau technologies common to us would be instantly identifiable – and operable! – to our great-grandfathers.

Even places of power are useless unless you're prepared to bring something to them. And I don't mean just the things we brought—they're to the real sacrament what the lump of bread is to the Eucharist. Then, if you come away the same person you were, you know it wasn't really a place of power.

There's no going back from what happened. You can go back and understand the past, but you can't go back and change it.

One day things can be going along like they always were and then, suddenly, in a simple rotation of an overheated planet, everything can change.

It was then, there in the darkness, with only those little pin-points of light to see by, light from a world away where other people with their own problems and their own secrets lived their own lives, that everything in our world changed for good.

Years vanish. Months collapse. Time is like a tall building made of playing cards. It seems orderly until a strong gust of wind comes along and blows the whole thing skyward. Imagine it: an entire deck of cards soaring like a flock of birds.

What am I now that I was then? / May memory restore again and again / The smallest color of the smallest day; / Time is the school in which we learn, / Time is the fire in which we burn.