Quotes About Change

If you do anything for too long, it starts to lack edge, to become too easy. Easy is the kiss of death.

I am appalled that the term we use to talk about aging is 'anti'. Aging is human evolution in its pure form. Death, taxes and aging .... We are ALL going to age and soften and mellow and transition.

Death is nothing more than a doorway, something you walk through.

For everything in life there is always a beginning and an end. This is the tough part the most difficult thing when you see that it's coming: The end.

We may lose and we may win, but we will never be here again.

A journey never ends. Only the travellers end.

Stagnation is death. If you don't change, you die. It's that simple. It's that scary.

The death of dogma is the birth of morality.

Nothing is permanent. The only thing any of us have in common is the inevitable.

If you let the world roll on the way it's rolling, you're voting for death. I'm not voting for death.

Nothing ever truly dies. The universe wastes nothing, everything is simply transformed.

Without death there would be very little progress.

Day is pushed out by day, and each new moon hastens to its death. [Lat., Truditur dies die, Novaeque pergunt interire lunae.]

Choose to see death as simply removing a garment or moving from one room to another... it's merely a transition.

The divine process of change manifests itself to our human understanding . . . as punishment, torment, death, and transfiguration.

The major political event of the twentieth century is the death of socialism.

Dying is a wild night and a new road.

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.

In any man who dies there dies with him his first snow and kiss and fight... Not people die but worlds die in them.

From this day forward, I no longer shall tinker with the machinery of death.

Wherever the European has trod, death seems to pursue the aboriginal.

I would like to live in Manchester, England. The transition between Manchester and death would be unnoticeable.

The poem is at last between two persons instead of two pages. In all modesty, I confess that it may be the death of literature as we know it.

Death is simply a shedding of the physical body, like the butterfly coming out of a cocoon. . . . It's like putting away your winter coat when spring comes.