Quotes About Transformation

A un sapo le salen alas y ya cree que es un dragón.

Trebali smo promijeniti svijet,zar ne?Sranje.Umjesto toga svijet je promijenio nas.

The waves may break upon the mountain, yet still they come, wave upon wave, and in the end only pebbles remain where once the mountain stood. And soon even the pebbles are swept away, to be ground beneath the sea for all eternity.

A toad grows wings and thinks he's a bloody dragon.

They had ridden past the end of the world; somehow that changed everything.

The dwarf has risen from the dead, Tyrion thought. And look, he's uglier than ever, run tell your friends.

The tree had been dead a long time, but it seemed to live again in the fire

Paint stripes on a toad, he does not become a tiger.

That won't do any good, the crow said. I told you, the answer is flying, not crying. How hard can it be? I'm doing it. The crow took to the air and flapped around Bran's hand. "You have wings," Bran pointed out. Maybe you do too. Bran felt along his shoulders, groping for feathers. There are different kinds of wings, the crow said.

She would be no one if that was what it took. No one had no holes inside her.

You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly... unless you open your eye." - Jojen

even stone will crack and melt if a fire is hot enough.

Though there are those who say it does not matter how a man begins, but only how he ends.

Hodor's real name was Walder. No one knew where "Hodor" had come from, she said, but when he started saying it, they started calling him by it. It was the only word he had.

In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume. Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume,

I'm not him, I'm not the turncloak, he died at Winterfell. My name is Reek, It rhymes with freak

The day you make them all is the day you stop improving. - Alleras

For the oak recalls the acorn, the acorn dreams the oak, the stump lives in them both.

Kill the boy and let the man be born.

The red priestess shuddered. Blood trickled down her thigh, black and smoking. The fire was inside her, an agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover's hand.

The comic book is not the book. the graphic novel is not the novel. The same, of course, is true of films and television. When we move a story from one medium to another, no matter how faithful we attempt to be, some changes are inevitable. Each medium has its own demands, own restrictions, its own way of telling a story.

I was a wolf, she thought, but now I'm just a stupid little lady again.

Remember. To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.

We've changed kins since then, some of us twice. No one cares, no one remembers.