Quotes About Transition

Night's darkness is the bag that bursts with the gold of the dawn.

Death is not extinguishing the light It is simply putting out the lamp Because the dawn has come

My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

Death belongs to life as birth does The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down

And because I love this life I know I shall love death as well. The child cries out when From the right breast the mother Takes it away, in the very next moment To Find in the left one Its consolation.

And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. (#95)

Open your door to that which must go, for the loss becomes unseemly when obstructed.

In life the one becomes many. In death the many become one.

I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers! I bow to you all and take my departure. Here I give back the keys of my door---and I give up all claims to my house. I only ask for last kind words from you. We were neighbours for long, but I received more than I could give. Now the day has dawned and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out. A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.

The night kisses the fading day whispering to his ear, "I am death, your mother. I am to give you fresh birth.

On death the many become one, in life the one becomes many.

My life when young was like a flower—a flower that loosens a petal or two from her abundance and never feels the loss when the spring breeze comes to beg at her door. Now at the end of youth my life is like a fruit, having nothing to spare, and waiting to offer herself completely with her full burden of sweetness.

Raicharan was twelve years old when he came as a servant to his master's house. He belonged to the same caste as his master and was given his master's little son to nurse. As time went on the boy left Raicharan's arms to go to school. From school he went on to college, and after college he entered the judicial service. Always, until he married, Raicharan was his sole attendant.

the light of our home also was to depart to her husband's house, and leave her father's in the shadow.

My union with you, my love, was only of the wayside; it was well enough so long as we followed the same road; it will only hamper us if we try to preserve it further. We are now leaving its bonds behind. We are started on our journey beyond, and it will be enough if we can throw each other a glance, or feel the touch of each other's hands in passing. After that? After that there is the larger world-path, the endless current of universal life.

Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. The child cries out when from the right breast the mother takes it away, in the very next moment to find in the left one its consolation.

In this world of human affairs there is no worse nuisance than a boy at the age of fourteen. He is neither ornamental nor useful. It is impossible to shower affection on him as on a little boy; and he is always getting in the way. If he talks with a childish lisp he is called a baby, and if he answers in a grown-up way he is called impertinent. In fact any talk at all from him is resented.

Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.

the most frightening experience of my professional life was not those hours spent under fire in Congo's killing fields but my first night on call in a UK teaching hospital.

When is the night over? Is it the start of sunrise or the end of it? Is it when you finally go to sleep or simply when you realize that you have to?

I have this theory that most artists never leave childhood, that you're endlessly trying to work out what happened. And leaving university and facing this idea that there is something called adult life that I was going to enter and get a job – I just couldn't. So writing became what I did as soon as I stopped studying.

I could never reconcile myself to the fact that just as you've recovered from your own childhood, and finally crawled out of the pit of it and felt the sun on your face for the first time, you have to give up that place in the sun to a baby you're determined won't suffer the way you did, and crawl back down into another pit of self-sacrifice to make sure she doesn't!

The prospect is exciting, for it is when the baby sleeps that I liaise, as if it were a lover, with my former life. These liaisons, though always thrilling, are often frantic. I dash about the house unable to decide what to do: to read, to work, to telephone my friends.

loss of control held new possibilities for me, as though it were itself a kind of freedom.