Quotes About Transition

The sky was blue and cloudless, everything was in bloom, and she wore a little lavender cotton cap. She was doing very well that day, except that she was dying.

Sighs are the punctuation of most of our lives, of relief, of how much worse it could have been, of "Now what?

As is' is the portal to creation, to new life.

Nothing worked consistently anymore, not the illusion or the self-made glue that had held them together, not even the armature of habit. For years, when she

You can't run alongside your grown children with sunscreen and ChapStick on their hero's journey." -- Anne Lamott, "Twelve Truths I Learned from Writing to Life

Old age on a good day is a dance we don't know the steps to: we falter. We may not be going in the direction we'd anticipated, or have any clue at all about which way to turn next.

Honey,...you'll never draw another calm breath as long as you live. That blissful amniotic unconcerned state of people without children is a thing of the past.

surrender means you get to come on over to the winning side.

Ease after war, death after life does greatly please'?

Milky and opaque, it has the pinkish bloom of the sky on a summer evening, ripening to rain.

It's as if you've been walking against a great wind all your life, and then the wind is gone, and you can't walk.

A day out of season, stopping the monotonous count of summer days. Stopping, too, one's own summer routine, so that, looking out on the gray skies, one says not only, 'What time of year is it?' but, 'What time of life am I in? Where am I? What am I doing?

One is free, like the hermit crab, to change one's shell.

Is your adult child out of the nest--and all you dreamed he would be? Affirm him over and over; enjoy him as your dear friend. Don't tell him what to do! Don't tell his spouse what to do! Those days are over.

The trees in the small copses of wood were just beginning to turn color. The chestnuts like liquid amber deepening here and there; willows still trailed streamers of green. The wild roses in the hedges were long finished, and they showed bunches of orange hips where flowers had been.

Charlotte felt a pity for her, because her world was changing, and she did not understand it; it had no place for her. She was like one of Mr. Darwin's dinosaurs, dangerous and ridiculous, beyond its time.

The sun was barely above the trees and any moment it would disappear. There was a golden haze in the air and it was appreciably colder than even a few minutes before. A cloud of starlings wheeled above a distant stand of poplars, still bare, although in the next garden a willow trailed weeping branches like streamers of pale chiffon. The breeze was so slight it did not even stir them.

One moment the world is as it is. The next, it is something entirely different. Something it has never been before.

My last sunrise. That morning, I was not yet a vampire. And I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely; yet I do not think I remember any other sunrise before it.

But the sky was never quite the same shade of blue again.

Sweet to think on it, that when we are last weary of all this world there is the rising sun

That morning I was not yet a vampire, and I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely, and yet I can't recall any sunrise before it. I watched its whole magnificence for the last time as if it were the first. And then I said farewell to sun light, and set out to become what I became.

You have to pass away from what failed you into what can sustain you. Otherwise - there is no hope.

I've been passing through for the longest time.