Quotes About Change

their nineteen-sixties with the flowers in the guns and their summers of love, as if all we'd had was winter, all we'd had was rations. Just very good at keeping quiet, is what we were. We had to be. It was the way. Them with their jet-age.

No art has ever really changed anything.

Here's an old story so new that it's still in the middle of happening, writing itself right now with no knowledge of where or how it'll end.

Beauty is the true way to change things for the better. To make things better. There should be a lot more beauty in all our lives. Beauty is truth, truth beauty. There is no such thing as fake beauty. Which is why beauty is so powerful. Beauty assuages.

Somehow this wasn't the same as melancholy. It was something else, about how melancholy and nostalgia weren't relevant in the slightest. Things just happened. Then they were over. Time just passed. Partly it felt unpleasant, to think like that, rude even. Partly it felt good. It was kind of a relief.

Animals, Mark, have no use for nostalgia, Aunt Kenna says. It is not a tool for survival, my darling. But

It is like her mother has been struck by - what? Lightening. Her mother has lightened up since the moment they landed in this country and the plane door opened and the warmer air came in. The moment they walked into this room she lightened even more

The nights are sooner, chillier, the light a little less each time.

Meanwhile, days pass.

Seems the self you get left with on the shore, in the end, is the self that you were when you went.

I suppose the fact that we're all a lot more accustomed to blatancy these days means that blatancy itself has to get even more blatant, her mother says.

Brave old world.

Jei žinai, kad jau pasimetei, tai reiškia, kad tikriausiai netrukus nepasimesi. Teisingai?

How adaptable human beings were without even realizing it, slipping blindly from state to state. One morning it was summer, the next you woke up and the whole year was over; one minute you were thirty, the next sixty, sixty next year quick as a wink, how fast it all was. How quickly and smoothly, yet how shockingly, when you thought about it, the seasons and the years gave way to each other

The seasons are meaningless. No - worse than meaningless. Paddy is rubble, and time just keeps on going. Autumn, then there'l| be winter. Then there'll be spring, and so on.

I'm rubble too, he thinks. Just in a different form. The whole world and all its people. Rubble.

It takes a death sometimes to make us all live a bit more, Iris says.

You can't stop change, the man says. It comes of necessity. You have to go with it and make something of what it makes of you.

Change is the nature of luck.

The world order was changing and what was truly new, here and there… was that the people in power were self-servers who'd no idea about and felt no responsibility towards history.

Never mind literal climate change, there's been a whole seasonal shift. It's like walking in a blizzard all the time just trying to get to what's really happening beyond the noise and hype.

Ha, he says. Well. Crazy weather out You're missing nothing, Pad. One of the worst springs I can remember. Snow up to here just two there. weeks ago. Minus seven. And now this. Twenty nine degrees. You're wrong, she says. One of the loveliest springs I've known. Plants couldn't wait to get going. All that cold. All this green.

I don't care what language the time passes in, the girl says. So long as it passes.

Cut this tree I'm living in down. Hollow its trunk out. Make me all over again, with what you scooped out of its insides. Slide the new me back inside the old trunk. Burn me. Burn the tree. Spread the ashes, for luck, where you want next year's crops to grow. Birth me all over again Burn me and the tree Next summer's sun Midwinter guarantee