Quotes About Change

An unsuspected yearning uncovered, discovered. For a simpler time and a simpler life. Before Internet, and climate change, and terrorism. When neighbors worked together, and separation was not a topic or an issue or wise.

Four days. And she had two gay sons, a large black mother, a demented poet for a friend and was considering getting a duck. It was not what she'd expected from this visit.

In grief people were themselves and not themselves.

Like a ship changing course. It might take a while to get to port, but at least it was going in the right direction.

This used to be my drug of choice. In my teens my drug of choice was acceptance, in my twenties it was approval, in my thirties it was love, in my forties it was Scotch.

Change the facts and you'll change the feelings." Chapter 20 · Page 175 · Location 3170

Any real act of creation is first an act of destruction. Picasso said it, and it's true. We don't build on the old, we tear it down. And start fresh.

I'm saying people change." She held up her hands to ward off Clara's protests. "I know, it's easy to say. And it doesn't undo the damage. But we've seen changes of heart. Changes of perception. It happens. Racists, homophobes, misogynists, they can change. And some do." "Truth and reconciliation," said Clara. "Yes. The truth must come first. And then, maybe, reconciliation. Maybe.

It was a perfect time of year, when late summer flowers were still blooming and the leaves were turning, and the grass was still green, but the nights were chilly and sweaters were out and fires were beginning to be lit. So that the hearths at night resembled the forests in the day, all giddy and bright and cheerful. Soon everyone would head back to the

All that had been trivial, that had been comforting and familiar and safe, now seemed to be strapped with explosives.

It smelled of the past, of a time before computers, before information was "Googled" and "blogged." Before laptops and BlackBerries and all the other tools that mistook information for knowledge.

I think many people love their problems. Gives them all sorts of excuses for not growing up and getting on with life.' Myrna

Which was why, Gamache knew, it was vital to be aware of actions in the present. Because the present became the past, and the past grew. And got up, and followed you.

truth is on the march and nothing will stop it.

No," said Armand. "The outside won't change, but the inside might. We can but hope." "We can do more than that, Chief Inspector, if we choose. Hope on its own is rarely enough.

There is no way either would get into their wedding clothes. But they'd grown in other ways as well, and Gamach figured it was a good deal. If life meant growth in all directions, it was fine with him.

Life is change. If you aren't growing and evolving you're standing still, and the rest of the world is surging ahead.

Why were there no words that felt? Words that when you touched them you'd feel what was intended? The chasm left by the loss of Madeleine? The lump in the throat that fizzed and ached. The terror of falling asleep knowing that on waking she'd relive the loss, like Prometheus bound and tormented each day. Everything had changed. Even her grammar. Suddenly she lived in the past tense. And the singular.

The two women would 'put up' the preserves over a couple of days and invariably Marthe would ask, 'When does a cucumber become a pickle?' At first he'd tried to answer that question as though she genuinely wanted to know. But over the years he realised there was no answer. At what point does change happen? Sometimes it's sudden. The 'ah ha' moments in our lives, when we suddenly see. But often it's a gradual change, an evolution.

He took her in his arms and kissed her, feeling her soft body beneath his coat. They'd both swelled since they'd first met. There was no way either would get into their wedding clothes. But they'd grown in other ways as well, and Gamache figured it was a good deal. If life meant growth in all directions, it was fine with him.

Everyday for Lucy's entire dog life Jane had sliced a banana for breakfast and had miraculously dropped one of the perfect disks on to the floor where it sat for an instant before being gobbled up. Every morning Lucy's prayers were answered, confirming her belief that God was old and clumsy and smelt like roses and lived in the kitchen. But no more. Lucy knew her God was dead. And she now knew the miracle wasn't the banana, it was the hand that offered the banana.

You didn't just lose a loved one. You lost your heart, your memories, your laughter, your brain and it even took your bones. Eventually, it all came back, but different. Rearranged.

Addicts, you're pathetic.' Myrna looked over at Ruth's vase of Scotch, half gone. `You're wrong there,' said Ruth, following Myrna's gaze. `This used to be my drug of choice. In my teens my drug of choice was acceptance, in my twenties it was approval, in my thirties it was love, in my forties it was Scotch. That lasted a while,' she admitted. `Now all I really crave is a good bowel movement.

experience, was something that needed to be removed. It was a chore that fell from the sky.