Quotes About Transition

All who are born are always dying.

but then she did. she died. no more visits, no more phone calls. And without even realizing it, I began to drift, as if my roots had been pulled, as if I were floating down some side branch of a river.

For many of us, the curtain had just come down on childhood.

There is a time for hello and a time for good-bye. It's why the act of burying things seems natural, but the act of digging them up does not.

Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all.

She would tell her that endings are also beginnings, we just don't know it at the time.

One withers, another grows.

Dying? Not the end of everything. We think it is. But what happens on earth is only the beginning.

The years after graduation hardened me into someone quite different from the strutting graduate who left campus that day headed for New York city, ready to offer the world his talent. The world, I discovered. was not all that interested.

Aging is not just decay, you know, its growth.

The distance between death and life is not as great as you imagine.

Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.

When you come to the end, that's where God begins.

Here's the thing, he said. People see me as a bridge. I'm not as alive as I used to be, but I'm not yet dead. I'm sort of...in-between

Do you know what causes wind? High pressure meeting low pressure. Warm meeting cold. Change. Change causes wind. and the bigger the change, the stronger the wind blows.

I snicker, but the idea is momentarily appealing. Part of me is scared of leaving school. Part of me wants to go desperately. Tension of opposites.

She was like a wound beneath an old bandage, and he had grown more used to the bandage.

Lost love is still love. It takes a different form.

Life is a series of pulls back and forth.

Everyone joins a band in this life. One way or another, the band breaks up.

Every ending is a beginning. We just don't know it at the time.

Once, when Giselle was alive, he thought about the future. Now he only thought about the past.

What was the constant? Movement. Yes. With time there was always movement. The setting sun. The dripping water. The pendulums. The spilling sand. To realize his destiny, such movement had to cease. He had to stop the flow of time completely …

His running was over. His dancing was over. Worse, for some reason, the way he used to feel about things was over, too. He withdrew. Things seemed silly or pointless