Quotes About Transition

Each person dying floats aside. Making room for the one that's coming. Perhaps they meet on their journey. Perhaps they wave as each heads on home

Two steps to the left or right or back or front and you're standing outside your life.

Sometimes...it seems as though not a moment has moved, but then you look up and you're already old or you already have a household of kids or you look down and see your feet are miles and miles away from the rest of you—and you realize you've grown up.

Everyone else has gone away. And now coming back home isn't really coming back home at all.

I want to write this down, that revolution is like a merry-go-round, history always being made somewhere. And maybe for a short time, we're part of that history. And then the ride stops and our turn is over. We walk slowly toward the park, where I can already see the big swings empty and waiting for me. And after I write it down, maybe I'll end it this way. My name is Jacqueline Woodson and I am ready for the ride.

Finally sixteen and the moment like a hand holding me out to the world.

As the orchestra lifted into "Darling Nikki," I took small breaths to keep tears from coming. I had not expected this --to feel the close of a chapter. The girlhood of my life over now.

Before the world as they knew it ended, they stepped out in heels with straightening-comb burns on their ears, gartered stockings, and lipstick for the first time.

Sometimes people don't get a chance to say good-bye, Stag.

When I took these things from the house: some tapes, some books, my winter clothes, I did not know that these would become the things I own.

My brother drove me to the subway, kissed my forehead, and hugged me hard. When had he become a man? For so long, he had been my little brother, sweet and solemn, his eyes open wide to the world. Now, behind small wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a figure out of history. Malcolm maybe. Or Stokely.

The green of Tennessee faded quickly into the foreign world of Brooklyn, heat rising from cement. I thought of my mother often, lifting my hand to stroke my own cheek, imagining her beside me, explaining this newness, the fast pace of it, the impenetrable gray of it. When my brother cried, I shushed him, telling him not to worry. She's coming soon, I said, trying to echo her. She's coming tomorrow. And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

I think of it..." Jeremiah said slowly. "Like weather or something. You got your rain, your snow, your sunshine. Always changing but still constant, you know?"... "So it's not always raining, is it? But when it's not raining, we know the rain isn't gone forever.

Each door, each friend, each step—bringing me closer to who I was becoming.

So after the tears were all cried out, it was time to move on and figure out what to do with all that was coming at me.

Feelings change fast when you're a teenager.

Great cultural changes begin in affectation and end in routine

Old age is like learning a new profession. And not one of your own choosing.

My blood is become water; youth is frozen into senility; all things worth while are gone.

We are not the same persons this year as last nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.

Le Temps nous égare ! Le Temps nous étreint ! Le Temps nous est gare ! Le Temps nous est train ?

what do all the objects in the world have in common if not the fact of being- and of being nothing but- the provisional permanence of certain changes.

The minutes seeped away like wine from a barrel.

Death is a fiction created by people who live their lives in total unawareness. There is only life, life and life alone, moving from one dimension to another, another dimension to another.