Quotes About Transformation

Por vezes, aqueles que inicialmente parecem ser os nossos piores inimigos acabam por se tornar os nossos maiores amigos.

Hunter studied her features, once so repulsive to him, now so cherished. He ran a finger up the fragile bridge of her nose, then traced the line of her brow, acutely conscious of the small bones that shaped her face. Protectiveness welled within him.

She has touched me. My hatred for her has gone the way of the wind.

Hunter tucked in his chin to study the girl's mud-streaked face and found himself wondering how he ever could have thought her ugly. Could a shaft of sunlight be ugly? A sparkle of moonlight upon water?

Loretta turned her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of his skin, loving the blend of leather and smoke and oil that she had once found so abhorrent. Hunter. When had he become so important to her?

the more you rely on what you need, the more you become that which you rely on.

Enchantée , says the key in my hand. When I try to turn it, it turns to sand.

I remember the morning you walked back from the sea, dirty trousers rolled, your feet pale as prisoners, poems and broken shells falling through a hole in your pocket. You stood for a moment and smiled at the gulls and it was as though the sun, the water, the day had conspired to put you back together again. I hope you walked into death as you did into that morning chasing a poem your step a little jaunty and your eyes full of the sea.

If we are to better the future we must disturb the present.

The hysteric, whose body is transformed into a theatre for forgotten scenes, relives the past, bearing witness to a lost childhood that survived in suffering.

I'm all in favor of recycling everything we can, but it's strange to see your past walking around with a new identity.

She was given no immediate answer, she only knew that somewhere a door had opened inside her and that it would be impossible to close it from now on.

The six most expensive words in business are: We've always done it that way.

When life goes on doesn't it just trample over what was there before?

He sang his last song. And the words of that have never been written down. But it was sweet and of great beauty, and those that heard it were changed utterly. Some say it was the song that moves the stars.

He worked night and day. He made a coat that would transform him; he would be more than a man; a winged creature, beautiful as light. All the birds brought him feathers. Even the eagle. Even the swan.

As the beast I took your finger. As the Dragon I give you my hand. Now you have crawled and clambered into my heart I can't see you anymore. Are you still there?

The dove will rise above destruction with a white rose in her beak. over storm over tempest. over time and the ages. And the petals will fall to the ground like snow.

He raised his hands. They saw his coat was feathered like the wings of the swan when it dies, when it sings its secret song. And he opened the door that none of them had seen until now.

Every time you tell your old story, you reactivate the negative emotions/vibes as a whole new experience in your body.

All I needed was a little time. A time to get used to the creature who had broken from the chrysalis; the wings yet were feeble and uncertain.

The day of the ball was spent preparing me much as one prepares a goose for Christmas, with the same ultimate effect.

Making psychological changes also provokes anxiety. It's very hard to break a habit, especially when you've adapted yourself to a particular pattern that, however maladaptive, has kept you alive. The unconscious is powerful, and it will fight to the death to keep an old pattern in place.

Talk about turning lemons into lemonade!