Quotes About Transition

Wilson has to leave early. He got the call earlier this morning: there is a bed for his wife in a nearby hospice. If she is going to take it, she must move today. The doctors still don't understand what is wrong with her, only that her self and her strength are ebbing away, and there seems no stopping it. Wilson's afternoon will be spent getting his wife, with whom he's traveled the world, ready for her final journey.

All losses are sad. The end of an important relationship is also a death. When people fall out of love with each other, or when what seemed like a solid friendship falls into ruin, the hope for a shared future--a hope that provided a context and a purpose to life--is gone. [p. 149]

There is no death, only a change of worlds. –Duwamish

I'm not giving you any options here. We're doing this, Eva. Enjoy your last remaining hours as a single woman.

I thought we'd turned a corner. Maybe we did, but we hit a brick wall anyway.

I require distance from the past in order to grasp the future.

this isn't me running away, I'm just leaving

I supposed, perhaps, you miss the promise of what could have been, while at the same time you are grateful that what it was instead is over.

I'm returning to England because the reason I stayed away no longer exists, and a reason to return has unexpectedly presented itself.

Los ejemplos que recuerdo, como se verá, remiten (o re-tornan) a la casa, a la cuchara y a la olla; remiten a lo casero, aunque las lenguas del sujeto bilingüe nunca lo son. La mezcla, el ir y venir, el switching pertenece al dominio de lo unheimliche que es, precisamente, lo que sacude la fundación de la casa.

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.

If you love her, I said, you'll love somebody else someday.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.

I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like the date on a tombstone.

Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and flutteringly, like a loved one's ashes, the gray scraps were ferried off, to settle here, there, exactly where I would never know, in the dark heart of New York.

I don't know how long I kept at it... I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still. It didn't seem to be summer any more

Ready for a new life

I opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.

Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

Wind warns November's done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious.

I felt now that all the uncomfortable suspicions I had about myself were coming true, and I couldn't hide the truth much longer. After nineteen years of running after good marks and prizes and grants of one sort and another, I was letting up, slowing down, dropping clean out of the race.

I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow

The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to an end.