Quotes About Transition

Tus pies descalzos en el suelo frío cuando te levantas de la cama y vas a la ventana. Tienes sesenta y cuatro años. Afuera, la atmósfera es gris, casi blanca, no se ve el sol. Te preguntas: ¿Cuántas mañanas quedan? Se ha cerrado una puerta. Otra se ha abierto. Has entrado en el invierno de tu vida.

These are the last things, she wrote. One by one they disappear and never come back. I can tell you of the ones I have seen, of the ones that are no more, but I doubt there will be time. It is all happening too fast now, and I cannot keep up.

hameye ma dar barkhord ba gozashte chenin raftar mikonim,sagha va adamha

Unless we can begin to embody the notion of change in the words we use, we will continue to be lost.

I was. Then I wasn't anymore. Then I was. Then I wasn't. Now who knows. If the years have taught me anything, kid, it's that anything can happen.

Your bare feet on the cold floor as you climb out of bed and walk to the window. You are sixty-four years old. Outside, the air is gray, almost white, with no sun visible. You ask yourself: How many mornings are left? A door has closed. Another door has opened. You have entered the winter of your life.

It was never possible for him to be where he was. For as long as he lived, he was somewhere else, between here and there. But never really have. And never really there.

Entrances do not become exits, and there is nothing to guarantee that the door you walked through a moment ago will still be there when you turn around to look for it again.

murió de neumonía, o lo que es lo mismo, murió de viejo: una muerte envidiable, a tu juicio, una vida vivida hasta bien entrada la novena década y luego, en lugar de la electrocución por un rayo, la oportunidad de asimilar el hecho de que te vas de este mundo, la ocasión de reflexionar durante un tiempo, para luego quedarse dormido y entrar flotando en el reino de la nada.

the sage Lenny Millstein, who not only was an excellent basketball man but an excellent person as well, who knew how to handle fourteen-year-old boys because he understood that fourteen was the worst possible age on the calendar of human life, and therefore all fourteen-year-olds were confused and fractured beings, not one of them a child anymore and not one of them an adult, none quite right in the head or at home in his unfinished body, and in the furnace of that claustrophobic arena of

when I finally hit bottom.

Everything can change at any moment, suddenly and forever.

It hurt too much to look back, so I kept my eyes fixed in front of me, and every time I took another step forward, I drifted farther away from the person I´d been with Master Yehudi. The best part of me was lying under the ground with him in the California desert.

There can never be any fixed path, and you can survive only if nothing is necessary to you. Without warning, you must be able to change, to drop what you are doing, to reverse. In the end, there is nothing that is not the case. As a consequence, you must learn how to read the signs.

Ferguson closed his eyes, paused for a long moment, and then turned to her and said: The best thing about being fifteen is that you don't have to be fifteen for more than a year.

Il mondo é solido per un periodo, poi una mattina esce il sole e si scioglie.

were not ready for freedom.

She was thinking about how her middle-school alma mater was now 75 percent Latino, when in her day it was 80 percent black. Thinking

Slowly but surely, we are acquiring that famous culture of democracy, which is our objective.

What does it mean to live in what Fareed Zakaria calls a "post-American world"?' He summarizes the main idea of his book by that name in the first sentence: "This is a book not about the decline of America but rather about the rise of everyone else."2

Whenever he was en route from one place to another, he was able to look at his life with a little more objectivity than usual. it was often on trpis that he thought most clearly, and made the decisions that he could not reach when he was stationary.

arriving from Scotland, she had cried herself

Zwischen Immer und Nie.

The land of familiarity belongs to the dead