Quotes About Transition

She always looks the same: like an angel who came down from heaven yesterday and has been rather disappointed in her first day on earth!

If we are always arriving and departing, it is also true that we are eternally anchored. One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.

Once you have given up the ghost, everything follows with dead certainty, even in the midst of chaos.

They cut the umbilical cord, give you a slap on the ass, and presto! you're out in the world, adrift, a ship without a rudder.

It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.

One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.

The sun is setting fast. The colors die. They shift from purple to dried blood, from nacre to bister, from cool dead grays to pigeon shit.

Uno pasa imperceptiblemente de una escena, una edad, una vida a otra.

Our world is rapidly drawing to a close; a new one is about to open. If it is to flourish it will have to rest on deeds as well as faith. The word will have to become flesh.

The moment I stepped on the American boat which was to take me to New York I felt I was in another world. I was among the go-getters again, among the restless souls, who, not knowing how to live their own life, wish to change the world for everybody.

I was cursed or blessed with a prolonged adolescence; I arrived at some seeming maturity when I was past thirty. It was only in my forties that I really began to feel young. By then I was ready for it.

Living in the midst of a world where there was a plethora of the new I attached myself to the old.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

Out of the shdows of night The world rolls into light.

Thus it is our daughters leave us, Those we love, and those who love us! Just when they have learned to help us, When we are old and lean upon them, Comes a youth with flaunting feathers, With his flute of reeds, a stranger Wanders piping through the village, Beckons to the fairest maiden, And she follows where he leads her, Leaving all things for the stranger!

There are no birds in last year's nest.

The nearer the dawn, the darker the night

There is no Death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead,--the child of our affection,-- But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. Excerpt from the poem Resignation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.

Nothing endures but change.

With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship

With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this.

That before living agent, now became the living instrument.

I can only say the first thing that pops into my mind is I remember, years ago, seeing kind of a has-been country singer working - when I first moved to Nashville - in a bar in a Holiday Inn.