Quotes About Transition

Every year his world felt like it got a little smaller. Maybe that was just the way things went as people aged.

Each of us finds the world of death fitted to himself

At puer Ascanius, cui nunc cognomen Iulo additur,---Ilus erat, dum res stetit Ilia regno,--- triginta magnos volvendis mensibus orbis imperio explebit, regnumque ab sede Lavini transferet, et longam multa vi muniet Albam.

Death twitches my ear. Live, he says. I am coming.

Vertitur interea caelum et ruit oceano nox, inuoluens umbra magna terramque polumque.

Through chances various, through all vicissitudes, we make our way.

Vertitur interea caelum et ruit oceano nox, involvens umbra magna terramque polumque Myrmidonumque dolos;

At last she shut the book sharply, lay back, and drew a deep breath, expressive of the wonder which always marks the transition from the imaginary world to the real world.

With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.

She seemed a compound of the autumn leaves and the winter sunshine ...

I burn, I shiver, out of this sun, into this shadow.

Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting.

How fast the stream flows from January to December!

This I say is the present moment; this is the first day of the summer holidays. This is part of the emerging monster to whom we are attached.

I thought at last that it was time to roll up the crumpled skin of the day, with its arguments and its impressions and its anger and its laughter, and cast it into the hedge.

Something irrevocable has happened. A circle has been cast on the waters; a chain is imposed. We shall never flow freely again.

There was an embrace in death.

She felt as if things were moving past her as she lay stretched on the bed under the single sheet. But it's not landscape any longer, she thought; it's people's lives, their changing lives.

To upset everything every 3 or 4 years is my notion of a happy life.

Emerged from the tentative ways, the obscurities and dazzle of youth, we look straight in front of us, ready for what may come (the door opens, the door keeps on opening). All is real; all is firm without shadow or illusion. Beauty rides our brows.

Wait for the dust of reading to settle; for the conflict and the questioning to die down; walk, talk, pull the dead petals from a rose, or fall asleep. Then suddenly without our willing it, for it is thus that Nature undertakes these transitions, the book will return, but differently. It will float to the top of the mind as a whole.

The summer is put away folded up in the drawer with other summers.

the white spaces that lie between hour and hour

Bien des choses se sont détachées de moi. J'ai survécu à certain désirs; j'ai perdu des amis, les uns par la mort, d'autres par ma simple incapacité à traverser la rue.