Quotes About Transition

Death consists, indeed, in a repeated process of unrobing, or unsheathing. The immortal part of man shakes off from itself, one after the other, its outer casings, and -- as the snake from its skin, the butterfly from its chrysalis -- emerges from one after another, passing into a higher state of consciousness.

Forks ceased their perpendicular traveling.

Like the cavities of missing teeth in some giant denture, into which new ones were to be fitted.

Before the Best Friends team got out on the water on their own, they spent several days ferrying already-rescued pets from the Jefferson Parish shelter, an official city facility, to the St. Francis Animal Sanctuary in Tylertown. It was clear to Troy that most of these animals had never seen the inside of a shelter before: "Their eyes seemed to be saying to me, 'Where am I? And where are my people?

I would not be okay for so long that when okay arrived it couldn't place me.

When I moved out of my mom's house at 18 I was almost as sad to leave her sewing machine behind as anything else.

The impetus behind going to graduate school was a year after graduating from college spent in Dallas working at the dog food factory and Bank America and not having met success in my chosen field, which at that point was being an actress.

A cool breeze lifted the hem of my nightgown. The birds began to chirp and sing and the first sparks of sunlight brought the dew drops to life.... When my fingers touched the back door, something inside me shifted - I could actually feel it. I knew Mrs. Odell was right. I felt the flutter of a page turn deep within me as a chapter in my Life Book came to a close.

When we've ceased hearing or changing, we need a new environment.

The most difficult years of marriage are those following the wedding.

It was as if her life was a huge kaleidoscope, and the kaleidoscope had been turned and now everything was changed. The same stones shaken, no longer made the same design.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that the new year doesn't begin for me in January. The new and fresh has always come for me in the Fall. Ironically, as leaves are falling like rain, crunching beneath my feet with finality, I am vibrating with the excitement of birth and new beginnings.... My year begins in Autumn.

The day after the day that I walk out the front door and the air is crisp, with just a hint of the Autumn days ahead, I put cinnamon in my coffee.

The plans that I made when horizontal are working out now that I'm vertical.

All deaths seem terrible to the one who dies.

The air changed. It had been dry, the Hill air I had grown used to. All in a moment the breeze went moist and soft, like a hand laid against me. I smelled salt and iodine, fish and weed, the coast and all that dwells there—its countless lives.

Duuni let her questions fall and rode on toward wherever it was she was supposed to go, watching the mountain change slowly, like a jewel turned in the light.

I used to be Snow White but then I drifted.

Strange Change B

I don't know what color I'll be when I come back!

This "betwixt and between" period is like living in a hallway of "divine discomfort." We know at some level that we need to let go, but we're not quite ready to do so yet. As bad as it might feel, this discomfort is often necessary to eventually move us into doing what we need to do. To this end, our unease is a gift.

It seemed strange that someone as old as Aunt Sylvia would talk about growing up. In a way I'm not sure i like the idea that you always keep on doing it. It seems sort of tiring. And then, people don't automatically do it right.

Marriage is a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.

I guess that's what growing up is. Saying good-by to a lot of things. Sometimes it is easy and sometimes it isn't. But it is all right.