Quotes About Transition

The album's called A to B, right?" Bosco said. "And that's the question I want to hit straight on: how did I go from being a rock star to being a fat fuck no one cares about? Let's not pretend it didn't happen.

In fact the whole apartment, which six years ago had seemed like a way station to some better place, had ended up solidifying around Sasha, gathering mass and weight, until she felt both mired in it and lucky to have it—as if she not only couldn't move on but didn't want to.

The secret to a happy ending, Mom used to tell us, is knowing when to walk away.

because at that point, the point at which my acceleration began to reverse, time started running together—there was no more arc of ascension by which to measure it.

It's all still there: the pool with its blue and yellow tiles from Portugal, water laughing softly down a black stone wall. The house is the same, except quiet. The quiet makes no sense. Nerve gas? Overdoses? Mass arrests? I wonder as we follow a maid through a curve of carpeted rooms, the pool blinking at us past every window. What else could have stopped the unstoppable parties? But it's nothing like that. Twenty years have passed.

Silence after a roaring motor is a sound of its own.

I don't know what happened to me," he said, shaking his head. "I honestly don't." Bennie glanced at him, a middle-aged man with chaotic silver hair and thoughtful eyes. "You grew up, Alex," he said, "just like the rest of us.

They resumed walking. Alex felt an ache in his eyes and throat. "I don't know what happened to me," he said, shaking his head. "I honestly don't." Bennie glanced at him, a middle-aged man with chaotic silver hair and thoughtful eyes. "You grew up, Alex," he said, "just like the rest of us.

Jules put his arm around her. "If you'd asked me this morning, I would have said we were finished," he said. "All of us, the whole country—the fucking world. But now I feel the opposite." Stephanie knew. She could practically hear the hope sluicing through her brother. "So what's the answer?" she asked. "Sure, everything is ending," Jules said, "but not yet.

It's 1991, and a lot of things that are about to happen haven't happened yet.

Sure, everything is ending," Jules said, "but not yet.

We stand there, quiet. My questions all seem wrong: How did you get so old? Was it all at once, in a day, or did you peter out bit by bit? When did you stop having parties? Did everyone else get old too, or was it just you? Are other people still here, hiding in the palm trees or holding their breath underwater? When did you last swim your laps? Do your bones hurt? Did you know this was coming and hide that you knew, or did it ambush you from behind?

I learned the terrible truth that as we morph from self to self over time, the love that one self has sworn can seem unfathomable to another.

After six months of Premarin, I had another round of levels taken. I was found to have 59 nanograms of estrogen in my system. The average for an adult male is 6. The mean for females is 26.

I really did "choose" to be Jim every single day, but that once I put my sword down I haven't chosen Jenny at all; I simply wake up and here I am.

You carry the past with you. Even if there's a before, and an after, in your life. It's still the same life. The trick is to build a bridge between that and what comes later.

Probably no people embrace change more enthusiastically, at least in theory, than Americans. Who we are at birth is less important to us than who we will become. We are expected—indeed, obligated—not just to be, but to become.

It's the cycle of life," I say, remembering Starlily's words. "Things need to move forward, not backward.

But it was not just that admirers had fled, she mused; her enemies were stepping out of the shadows to take their place.

I remember when I was 33 or 34, it was devastating because I realized I wasn't a kid anymore. The great thing about 40 was that I really felt like I had life experience and knew what I was doing now.

Death isn't the end, it's the beginning.

Life in the fast lane," Michael's reply. "You have to adjust for inflation.

The two of us rode in companionable silence until the car pulled into Ivy's drive. Bodie cut the engine, and I reached for the door handle.

I stood there, staring at Ivy, a hundred thousand thoughts and memories and moments rushing through my head. And then I got on the plane. And then I shattered.