Quotes About Transition

Bittersweet October. The mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between the opposing miseries of summer and winter.

There's always that first step in skating, from dry ground to slick ice, when it just seems impossible. Impossible that two thin blades of metal will support you, impossible that because its molecules have begun to dance a little slower water will hold you up.

Together we climbed on the Peace City bus and road back towards my house. My almost normal feeling was gone. I was miles from ordinary now. Miles.

summer tourists were long gone, the Christmas shoppers had left and it was just bare and beautiful and recovering, getting ready to start all over again.

I only wish to be gone. Therefore, I AM.

Sometimes it has to feel worse before it feels better.

My one challenge with the support group that I'd become involved with on campus is that the people seem to spend as much time talking about their ill-begotten pasts as their promising futures. It's as if people are drawn to looking back. They can't move on until it all makes sense. Humbly submitted: It never does.

Things begin, things end. Just when we seem to arrive at a quiet place, we are swept up, suddenly, between the body's smoothe, functioning predictability, and the need for disruption. We do irrational things, outrageous things. Or else something will come along and intervene, an unimaginable foe.

How does a poet know when a poem is ended? Because it lies flat, taut; nothing can be added or subtracted. How does a woman know when a marriage is over? Because of the way her life suddenly shears off in just two directions: past and future.

Change is one of my favourite words.

A work is never completed except by some accident such as weariness, satisfaction, the need to deliver, or death: for, in relation to who or what is making it, it can only be one stage in a series of inner transformations." —Paul Valery

Sometimes people grow up together and sometimes they grow apart. You just have to try to make the best of it.

Chapter thirty-four

You never know when something is going to happen to change your life. You expect it to arrive with fanfare, like a wedding or a birth, but instead it comes in the most ordinary of circumstances. The

But the night was ordinary. It usually is, I think, when your life changes. Most people aren't doing anything special when the carefully placed pieces of their life break apart.

It seemed like five minutes later we were here, the Land That Time Forgot, watching the removal van disappear round the corner like a last hope.

The problem with books is that they end.

I hate it here... ...Everyday is actually three days, a freezing morning, a blistering day, and a cool night. You need a lot of clothes. And every day is the same day, which is why it's important to hang a calendar. I see why people move here and wake up one day scratching their heads, wondering when they turned forty or what year it is.

You don't lose a person all at once. You lose them in parts.

She was always changing her mind, imagining all the roads not taken. She was spongy, and sponges can't make big life decisions.

Night moves don't work in the morning

I was only flipping through months gone by, inventing anniversaries for our life that's gone. You above all others know the importance of moving on; you like new things, you liked new things.

You leave him... you move to another state. But you never leave a man, even when you do.

I can't wait to get out of here. My parents... they act like everything since high school blows, like they'd get in a time machine if they could. IT's so sad. I mean life is all about what's next, you know?