Quotes About Transformation

F]or all its reputation for conservatism, cricket in its history has demonstrated a remarkable capacity for innovation. What game has survived subjection to such extraordinary manipulations, having been prolonged to 10 days (in Durban 70 years ago), truncated to as few as 60 balls (in Hong Kong every year), and remained recognisable in each instance?

Look at the mountains. Look and the oceans! No one else can change the oceans into mountains or mountains into oceans, because the work of God's hands is the greatest.

Turn around, turn around, turn around And you may come full circle And be new here again

Fame changes a lot of things, but it can't change a lightbulb.

To become imperceptible oneself, to have dismantled love in order to become capable of loving. To have dismantled one's self in order finally to be alone and meet the true double at the other end of the line. A clandestine passenger on a motionless voyage. To become like everybody else; but this, precisely, is a becoming only for one who knows how to be nobody, to no longer be anybody. To paint oneself gray on gray.

Lose your face: become capable of loving without remembering, without phantasm and without interpretation, without taking stock. Let there just be fluxes, which sometimes dry up, freeze or overflow, which sometimes combine or diverge.

Lo decepcionante no es tanto la liberación sexual como la ausencia de vida erótica, la transformación de la relación en rutina, la falta de comunicación entre las personas.

Com a psicologização do parecer abre-se o prazer narcísico de se metamorfosear aos olhos dos outros e de si mesmo, de "mudar de pele", de se tornar e de se sentir como uma outra, mudando de toalete.

Some elements appear in this picture which would be decisive in Klimt's subsequent work: for instance, the use of gold and the transformation of anatomy into ornamentation, of ornamentation into anatomy.

It's humbling, to become the very thing you once mocked.

We weren't ourselves when we fell in love, and when we became ourselves – surprise! – we were poison. We complete each other in the nastiest, ugliest possible way.

What do you call that moment when we let go of the conviction, albeit illusory, that life will only grow larger? That the horizon will always expand?

Comics know that time plus pain equals humor and that we can redeem even awful moments from the past by translating them into a shared experience.

Just because you've become tired of emotion, or outgrown it, doesn't mean it'll be simple to free yourself from it. It must be dismantled, not ignored.

I wake up every morning and I surprise myself. I wake up to a new me.

This, I came to understand, was what freedom tasted like. It wasn't a heady illusion in the safety of a time-shared bed, seeking the approval of the person whose heart you are breaking. It is being willing to have your own heart broken and not blaming the outcome on anyone. It is being an orphan, and love not being an obligation or prescription, but always a risky, transformative choice.

We are always permeable, shifting. We are all only one strange leap away from becoming inconceivable to our former selves.

Sometimes we have to break down to break through.

Travel in the direction of what you resist. On the way, you will meet a version of yourself who has been seeking you.

If you built the box, you can also break it down.

At chaos' core lies the invitation.

It is not so much the grand dramas of our lives that transform us as it is the tiny one-acts we produce in between.

The trip changed all that. Stirring the murk of a life ill-fitting, Something More was perceptible though without name or form. Something More was the genesis of a map, not one handed to me but rendered with each step taken, a skill seasoned by a cruise gone bad.

Fear not your flame as you flood your caverns with firelight.