Quotes About Change

Bit by bit [the Second World War] really changed my view of what people were capable of, and therefore what human nature was.

The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away. Once there was this and that; and now—and the ship had gone.

If you don't change your hairstyle because it's mostly fallen out and you don't shave, you've no cause to go chasing yourself in a mirror.

You could see the damp spot where each flake died, then you could mark the first flake that lay down without melting and watch the whole ground turn white.

Inside and out, Westley's world was ripping apart and he could do nothing but crack along with it.

I've been in the revenge buisness for so long, now that it's over I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.

I love you," Buttercup said. "I know this must come as something of a surprise, since all I've ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more.

I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it is over I do not know what to do with the rest of my life.

Hace una hora, creí que te amaba más de lo que ninguna mujer ha amado nunca a un hombre, pero media hora más tarde, supe que lo que había sentido entonces no era nada comparado con lo que sentí después. Mas al cabo de diez minutos, comprendí que mi amor anterior era un charco comparado con el mar embravecido antes de la tempestad.

The infant is ten and he stays

Wide brimmed and narrow, some tall, some not, some fancy, some colorful, some plaid, some plain. She doted on changing hats at every opportunity. When she met the Prince, she was wearing one hat, when he asked her for a stroll, she excused herself, shortly to return wearing another, equally flattering.

What with one thing and another, three years passed.

It's not important, believe me; the past has a way of being past.

It was all part of growing up. You got these little quick passions, you blinked, and they were gone. You forgave faults, found perfection, fell madly; then the next day the sun came up and it was over. Chalk it up to experience, old girl, and get on with the morning. Buttercup stood, made her bed, changed her clothes, combed her hair, smiled, and burst out again in a fit of weeping. Because there was a limit to just how much you could lie to yourself.

I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm.

Who can know when his world is going to change? Who can tell before it happens, that every prior experience, all the years, were a preparation for . . . nothing.

The only actual change that had come over him in the past years was that, for some reason, his impediment had gotten worse. "Mawidge," he said. "Vewy old.

You got these little quick passions, you blinked, and they were gone. You forgave faults, found perfection, fell madly; then the next day the sun came up and it was over. Chalk it up to experience, old girl, and get on with the morning. Buttercup stood, made her bed, changed her clothes, comber her hair, smiled, and burst out again in a fit of weeping. Because there was a limit to just how much you could lie to yourself.

Who can know when his world is going to change? Who can tell before it happens, that every prior experience, all the years, were a preparation for . . . nothing... who can sense revelation in the wind?

You're certainly blooming, Billy. Before my very eyes. I just don't know into what.

thereafter, the selfsame

Kid -- the next time I say, 'Let's go someplace like Bolivia,' let's go someplace like Bolivia.

Your love holds you for the first time in his arms and you think, How perfect, how splendid, but then, when your love isn't your love any more, you think only, I let him touch me, how horrid, how vile.

Who can know when his world is going to change?… Picture this now: an all-but-illiterate old man struggling with an enemy tongue, an all-but-exhausted young boy fighting against sleep… Who could suspect that in the morning a different child would wake?… Perhaps I should have at least known something, but maybe not; who can sense revelation in the wind?