Quotes About Transition

As long as everything stayed the same, it seemed possible for him to come back. As long as everything was the way he had left it, his place was open for him. But if things changed beyond a certain point, his place in my life began to close, he could not reenter it, or if he did, he would have to enter in a new way.

The first New Year after they died felt like another betrayal--we were leaving behind the last year in which they had lived, a year they had known, and starting on a year that they would never experience.

Hoy por la mañana hizo vida, pero ahora está haciendo un poco de ganas de morir.

Él no se mató, no. Murió como..., como todo el mundo un día muere.

él es un fantasma recién muerto. Se convirtió en fantasma porque equivocó el momento de su muerte.

Lembro da ampulheta quebrada, entrei no escritório do pai para pegar o lápis vermelho e esbarrei no vidro do tempo. Fiquei em pânico vendo o tempo estacionado no chão: dois punhados de areia e os cacos. Passado e futuro. E eu? Onde ficava eu agora que o era e o será se despedaçaram? Só o funil da ampulheta resistira e no funil, o grão de areia em trânsito sem se comprometer com os extremos. Livre.

This is what evolution means--ordered progress; development from poorer to richer, from lower to higher, from less to greater--progress. In the material universe, progress to higher forms; in the moral universe, progress to higher life.

Those that came before you did not have to think so consciously about actively navigating their lives through so many distinct changes, or indeed developing their capacity for transition. Long

I wanted to be a dancer my whole life. And when I gave it up to act, I always had a really sad part of myself that missed it and missed performing and missed being physical in that way.

Sometimes everything breaks up so something new can break through.

Goodbyes were like crossroads where the path divided, places where you could look back at what you were leaving behind yet glimpse the choices and possibilities that lay ahead. Goodbyes were hard because they meant change.

Goodbyes were like crossroads where the path divided, places where you could look back at what you were leaving behind yet glimpse the choices and possibilities that lay ahead.

But perhaps this is what goes wrong with long marriages--you state your opinions, your likes and dislikes, at the beginning and then forget to mention when they change" (135).

Louis XV's contention that after him would come the deluge

Sometimes I think we forget that we're meant to pick up and go when the well runs dry [...] You stay put for too long, you get weighed down by things, things you don't need. It's true. Then your life becomes this pathetic accumulation of stuff. Emotional and physical junk.

I don't want marriage. You know why? Because I did that. I did it for 32 years.

And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you'd planned.

There were times after my marriage ended where, you know, I really felt like I was at the bottom of a mountain, there was a great big, fog up there, and I'm never going to cross to the other side.

How long would it take, she wondered, before she felt comfortable using her real name instead of a false one? Or to realize that a knock on the door was not the Gestapo but the postman delivering mail?

Ed Murrow] admitted he was having trouble coming to grips with the idea of peace: "Trying to realize what has happened, one's mind takes refuge in the past. The war that was seems more real than the peace that has come.

Step and land, step and land. That's all travel was. Throw in some running and a change of scenery. No big deal, right? And so, off he went. Off they went together.

Life was rearranging itself; bulging in places, fraying in spots. Sometimes leaving holes big enough to see through, or even step through, to somewhere else.

When you've loved somebody for a long time, and then it stops, it's akin to an amputation in that you go on feeling the cut-off part long after it's been taken away. All sorts of nervous and emotional impulses set out to travel to their accustomed stations, and when they come up against the new, raw barrier, they're carried through it by their own impetus, and only then, finding themselves shooting through empty space, do they dwindle and die away.

but place is unimportant to a traveler, if that's what I can be called. If it were important, people couldn't bear to move on.