Quotes About Transition

Marriage - a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.

Marriage...a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters written in prose.

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.

Where we are going, I don't know. It doesn't seem to be the place that is important but the steps in between.

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born. The wind knew. It was the first of June, but cold gusts bit at the hilltop citadelle as fiercely as deepest winter, shaking the windows with curses and winding through drafty halls with warning whispers. There was no escaping what was to come.

Regroup. Move forward.

A prince, in the turn of a moment and a few words, was now a king.

Seconds could change everything. Seconds could erase one path and send you reeling down another.

soon the day would cleave in two, forever creating the before and after of my life, and it would happen in one swift act that I could no more alter than the color of my eyes.

He believes me. But that is nothing new. He always did because I was a rule follower. I played by the rules he understood. But there are new rules now, ones he doesn't know yet. He'll learn. Just as I'm learning.

When I was halfway between one world and another, a moment of clarity broke through. This is what it was to die. *

I closed my eyes against the thought, knowing that soon the day would cleave in two, forever creating the before and after of my life, and it would happen in one swift act that I could no more alter than the color of my eyes.

He was too young to begin losing himself.

How did one fall out of love without falling apart at the same time?

You've made your choice. It's for the best, then. We're each called somewhere else.

Knowing that soon the day would cleave in two, forever creating the before and the after of my life.

A spare minute can send us careening down a new path and turn our lives upside down.

I sat there for minutes, seasons, years, the wind becoming winter against my skin, the day becoming night, then blinding again, harsh with detail. I closed my eyes, but the details still shone bright and demanding behind my lids, replacing a lifetime of memories with a single bloody image of Walther, and then, mercifully, the image faded, everything faded, leaving only dull, numbing gray.

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born. (pg 3)

It was true that in a measure she could take them with her, but, robbed of their old environments, they would appear in such new guises that they would almost cease to be themselves.

And now the senna and camomile were to flavour all her life. She was no longer to enjoy that mystical double existence, those delicious glimpses of dreamland, which made up for all the dulness of the common world that surrounded her.

leaves still cling to the trees, but the sun is telling them to drop dead.

One of the drawbacks of upward social mobility is a sense of guilty indebtedness to the old neighborhood.

Perhaps it is the intrusion of sexuality that marks the end of precision.