Quotes About Transition

one must break with one's past to embrace one's future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.

Liminal sucks. You can't grasp it with your hands and shape it. You can't make midnight come faster, or grow up sooner, or avoid the in-betweens. You can only hang in there, and get through them.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The soles of my shoes should have been steaming.

Snip. Snip. Snip. I stand perfectly still while he works (chin tucked down so the ends will blend better), then braid my much shorter hair and weapon up.

It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.

Death is the final chapter in a book you can't unread. You keep waiting to feel like the person you were before that chapter ended. You never will.

Once you walked away, you had to keep walking and never look back.

one must break with one's past to embrace one's future.

Ölürken, geçiÅŸ s?ras?nda, bir an var. YaÅŸam yerini ölüme, dolu yerini boÅŸa b?rak?yor. Bir an. Her ÅŸey çok h?zl?. Geri dön, geri dön, diye ba??rmak istiyorum. Bir dakikaya daha ihtiyac?m var. Bir gülümsemeye daha. Her ÅŸeyi düzeltmek için bir ÅŸansa daha. Ama gitti. Yok art?k. Nereye gitti? Hayata ölümden sonra ne oluyor? Bir yere mi gidiyor, yoksa tamamen mi kayboluyor?

I could get lost in pining for the way things used to be. Or I could adapt and learn to ride the changes like they do, with eagerness to see what the new day has in store and unquenchable lust for life, however it unfolds.

Letting go of what was, to survive what is.

Decide, Ms. Lane," Barrons said, behind me. "Choose," V'lane agreed. "Go to hell, both of you! New world. New rules. New me. Don't call me. I'll call you.

You're leaving me, Rainbow Girl.

Sometimes, Ms. Lane," he said, "one must break with one's past to embrace one's future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.

I realized I was still caught between two worlds. I missed the idealism and even the redundancy of home, the little routines of my father's, like throwing his keys in the air, and the way my mom's smile could make the whole world forget its worries...

has a...civilized look.  Maybe because I know just beyond are highways

had become foreign to him.  Maybe his

The Beginning of the End can feel a lot like the middle when you are living in it. When I was a kid I couldn't see any of these ridges. It was only after Swamplandia!'s fall that time folded into a story with a beginning, a middle, and an ending. If you're short on time, that would be the two-word version of our story: we fell.

Somethings you know right away to be final- when you lose your last baby tooth...Other times, you have to work out the milestone via subtraction, a math you do to assign significance, like when I figured out that I'd just blown through my last-ever wednesday with Mom on the day after she died.

Who can say what the dead do or do not know? Perhaps the knowledge of one's death, ceaselessly swallowed, is the very food you need to become a ghost.

What a weird future awaited her in the past!

My dad's version of the book, the staid, declarative Guide to the Galaxy, is nearly identical, except that the graphics are a matte black, and the same information is listed as Fact #47. I guess that's what growing up means, at least according to to the publishing industry: phosphorescence fades to black and white, and facts cease to be fun.

That summer Nal was fourteen and looking for excuses to have extreme feelings about himself.

Sand, sand, sand—all that pulverized time. Eons ago, the world's burst hourglass spilled its contents here; now the years pile and spin, waiting with inhuman patience to be swept into some future ocean. Sand washes right up to the paved road, washes over to the other side in a solid orange current, illuminated by their headlights.