Quotes About Transition

I retired from the army." Her eyebrows shot up. "Like my uncle!" "No, not like your uncle. Like a warrant officer, helicopter pilot. Jack said your uncle is a retired three-star. A whole different thing, kid." She grinned at him, but her cheeks took on a little flush. "Just remember, he's retired. He really isn't in charge anymore." He

Listen, remember what we've always talked about...change can be good. What feels like a disaster can be your new opportunity.

And Gina went

Be good to have him home," Mike said. "He's not like he was," Jack said. "He's got a peg leg and a giant bug up his ass." "None of us were like we were. For a while," Paul said. "He's a kid. He'll get through it. Or we'll get him through it." "Mel's

I'll fix you up. Let me take it a lot shorter, give you a chance to catch up over here. I promise, it won't be awful. You'd look good with shorter hair." "Yeah, that's what the Marine Corps thought. They thought I was cute as a button as a jarhead. Anything you do is fine. I appreciate it." "You

Full and aching and tingling and spiraling, hanging on for dear life, letting go of every other thought and focused only on one thing—let it go, let it go, let it go.

There comes a time in every life when the curtain is coming down, and when that time is present and there's no way to turn back the clock, the best answer is dignity and peace.

What feels like a disaster can be your new opportunity.

Guys like us. Who'd ever have thought?" Jack rubbed a hand across the back of his sweaty neck and said, "Yeah, well, look out. You bite the dust like I did and all of a sudden you're breeding up a ball team." "I'll

The March sun had warmed the land and brought out the buds. Mel had a fleeting thought that seeing this place in full bloom would be glorious, but then reminded herself that she would miss it.

RV. His hands plunged into his pockets, heading toward

This isn't going to be an issue for long. In fact, much sooner than I like to think about, she'll be gone. She gave me her whole adult life, always putting me first. If I don't give her a few years of mine, the rest of my life won't matter a damn.

I want to say goodbye to you, leave you on your back porch and go. Even though we both know this is how it should be, I don't expect either one of us is going to like it too much. Especially the morning we say goodbye.

I don't really want to leave the house. I'll have to find a way to change that soon, but for now, I just want to feel safe. That's a tall enough order.

Camel trips do not begin or end, they merely change form.

Camel trips, as I suspected all along, and as I was about to have confirmed, do not being or end: they mere change form.

You can always tell when it's Friday. There's an excitement specific to Fridays, coupled with relief that another week has passed

But I do know that I spent a long time existing, and now, I intend to live.

One thing I've realized about new places is that they're like jeans. Sure, they might fit in, but they're not comfortable. They need time to be broken in

We'd been so good together once, and then we'd rotted, like some corpse with a delayed burial.

The life you pan isn't the life that happens again

Sometimes you look around at your life and you see a ghost of a different one. It watches from the wings like an understudy that knows it won't go on. The play unfolds, and eventually, when you glance backstage, that life you knew is gone, and no one watching ever knew it was there at all.

This was one of the last weekends before we'd be the seniors, and I was thinking about what that meant. About how these rituals of prom, the luau, and graduation that we'd watched for years were suddenly personal.

In AP Bio, I learned that the cells in our body are replaced every seven years, which means that one day I'll have a body full of cells that were never sick. But it also means that the parts of me that knew and loved Sadie will disappear. I'll still remember loving her, but it'll be a different me who loved her. And maybe this is how we move on. We grow new cells to replace the grieving ones, diluting our pain until it loses potency.