Quotes About Change

History repeats itself. Someone says this. History throws its shadow over beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. history is the little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of, I know history. There are many names in history... but none of them are ours.

Verse. Chorus. Verse. I'm sorry. We know how it works. The world is no longer mysterious.

I put my sadness in a box. The box went soft and wet and weak at the bottom. I called it Thursday. Today is Sunday. The town is empty. I stood in the road looking forward and back, to see if it would change something. After a while, I went back inside and tripped over the box.

What can you know about a person? They shift in the light. You can't light up all sides at once.

He knows that when you snap a mast it's time to get a set of oars or learn how to breathe underwater. Rely on one thing too long and when it disappears and you have nothing–well, that's just bad planning. It's embarrassing, to think it could never happen. It happens.

His hands keep turning into birds, and his hands keep flying away from him. Eventually the birds must land.

Anyone can paint a mask. It's boring. And everyone secretly wants to collaborate with the enemy, to construct a truer version of the self. How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it's some kind of murder? Difficult, to be confronted with the fact of yourself.

This is also part of the story: how the story changes.

Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts from one foot to the other.

The world doesn't know what to do with my love. Because it isn't used to being loved. It's a framework problem.

This is the place, you say to yourself, this is the place where everything starts to begin, the wounds reveal a thicker skin and suddenly there is no floor.

It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.

A man found a door and hung it on the wall.

Everyone in this room got here somehow and everyone in this room will have to leave.

You had expected something else, anything else

We are all going forward. None of us are going back.

He was not dead yet, not exactly— parts of him were dead already, certainly other parts were still only waiting for something to happen, something grand

You were driving toward something and then, well, then you found yourself driving the other way.

Tell me we'll never get used to it.

His hands keep turning into birds, and his hands keep flying away from him. Eventually the birds must land. - Unfinished Duet

Things happen all the time, things happen every minute that have nothing to do with us.

History throws its shadow over the beginning

Everyone in this room got here somehow and everyone in this room will have to leave. So what's left? Sing a song about the room we're in?

let's just get going, let's just get gone