Quotes About Transformation

When life throws you scraps, make a quilt.

October is a mighty month...

Life is an onion and one cries while peeling it.

Rumi will transform you, in ways you didn't know you needed transforming.

Good poetry, like music or a sweet touch, can doctor us up, be an antidote for an hour or longer, help us to get dressed for another day — combat the blues enough to mount the horse again; and maybe even aid one in laying down the insidious weight of some old grudge or deep-rooted anxiety. Herein enters Rumi.... draws us near to his — and our own — inner light.... From head to toe this guy is blazing. He is like a cyclone one wants to be drawn into...

I was discovering that if you just set people in motion, they'll heal themselves.

...the new life of psychiatry is with us...

Writing with Scissors (collecting, note-keeping, remaking)

The sky it cries And the sun pats it dry With a rainbow up on high.

Man makes himself, and he only makes himself completely in proportion as he desacralizes himself and the world. The sacred is the prime obstacle to his freedom. He will become himself only when he is totally demysticized. He will not be truly free until he has killed the last god.

If without you I gather a rose, it turns thorn, But when you come back again, through you We return to fragrant and pink and petaled.

In the place of roses be a rose, and where there are thorns be a thorn.

From the thorn bush comes the rose.

Nature grows beautiful new life over old scars.

Science is a cemetery of dead ideas, even though live ideas are born out of it. Worms, also, feed upon corpses.

Spring and summer come with a lush layer of foliage over reality, but when things start falling away in the autumn and get bare and stark in the winter we're forced to look at things more as they really are, including ourselves.

The cold dull glow of winter warms to the colorful brilliance of springtime.

Seasons depart peripherally.

The elation of flying is worth the pain of sprouting wings.

A bud can be beautiful, a work of art even. But I'm finding it simply can't compare to the openness of the blossom. Looking for my sun.

And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...

Skipping turns — moping into hoping, pity into giddy, sad into glad, lazy into crazy, old into bold, tired into wired!

You may never get rid of the butterflies, but you can teach them how to fly in formation.

What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. Scattered along life's pathway, the good they do is inconceivable. A smile, accompanied by a kind word, has been known to reclaim a poor outcast and change the whole current of a human life.