Quotes About Transition

I don't know how others reconcile what happened before with what happens now. For me, the past is a cool, dark pond in which I will always stand partially submerged. That's just the way it is.

Left alone, no matter at what age or under what circumstance, you have to remake your life.

It's hard to remake decisions and even harder to rethink nondecisions. Sometimes you don't really decide, you just move forward, and that is what I did—moved forward blindly and mindlessly into a new and unknown life.

Wouldn't it be great if people could get to live suddenly as often as they die suddenly?

Things were slipping on me — oranges at first — then everything.

The last dregs of winter spoiling the taste of everything.

the long train ride was like traveling through limbo. You weren't anywhere when you were on a train, she decided. You weren't where you had been, and you weren't yet where you were going. You were nowhere. It might be beautiful outside the window-and it was, she had sense enough to realize that-but it wasn't anywhere to her, just a scene passing by that was framed by the train window. (p160)

Jess followed, still trying to figure out why two grown people and a smart girl like Leslie wanted to leave a comfortable life in the suburbs for a place like this. They watched the bus roar off.

Now it was time for him to move out. She wasn't there, so he must go for both of them. It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength.

reassigned to Zhenjiang

Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed for a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn't Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world - huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile? (Handle with care - everything - even the predators.)

For the first few seconds, Jess kicked and struggled against the strong arms. Then Jess gave himself over the numbness that was buzzing to be let out from the corner of his brain. - Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Patterson

Büyük bir boÅŸluÄŸuniçinden ç?karak yavaÅŸ yavaÅŸ hayata dönmeye baÅŸlad?,bu belirsizlik an?ndan daha öncesinini yaÅŸamam?? gibiydi.Sonsuz boÅŸluÄŸun içinde ne mant?k ne de an?lar vard?.Karanl?k içinde yüzen bir embriyo gibiydi,ya??yordu,nefes al?yordu ama içinde bulunduÄŸu dünyadan ve benliÄŸinden bir ÅŸekilde uzaktayd?,her ÅŸey pusluydu.

To be an American is to move on, as if we could outrun change. To attach oneself to place is to surrender to it, and suffer with it.

Disconnecting from change does not recapture the past. It loses the future.

None of us knows what the next change is going to be, what unexpected opportunity is just around the corner, waiting a few months or a few years to change all the tenor of our lives.

New things pop up at the edges, but the middle's where the money is.

Maybe I'll walk by one of my old apartments, the second one I lived in after I first came to the city from that much duller metropolis, Washington, D.C. That

I felt sure that I was approaching the brink of my destiny. I wasn't mistaken. How was I to know that I'd never see John—or Big Tom, or Lady Jane, or Miss America, or any of the rest—ever again?

Like many parents in middle age, he's quick to spot changes in the world, slow to note shifts in his own perspective.

Maybe there's a natural order in all this: New things pop up at the edges, but the middle's where the money is. I did that dance myself over the years. I got rich doing it. And now here I am, an old white lady in a fur coat on a Murray Hill sidewalk, eavesdropping on passersby, wondering what I'm missing.

There are no great fanfares for the truly great moments of your life. Just dripping taps and the sound of your own footsteps, walking from one room into another

Dying," she said in her last week, "is normal. It's as normal as being born.

Donde una puerta se cierra, otra se abre. 'Where a door is closed, another is opened.' – From Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes