Quotes About Transformation

DURING THE COURSE of his long and distinguished career, the Irish poet W. B. Yeats often changed his themes, style, and personal philosophy, sometimes leaving behind the audience he had cultivated. When he was upbraided for this confusing constancy of change, he replied: The friends have it I do wrong Whenever I remake my song Should know what issue is at stake. It is myself that I remake. 54

To serve the gods, not the ego, not the tribe, not one's parents, not one's prior picture, is to transform.

Either we die unto who we were, in order to move to the next stage, or we die through staying stuck, and suffer stasis and stultification.

The point is that something I thought was perfect has been broken, and I'm having to find the beauty in what is there instead of what I thought was there. Like this shell. I can either spend all my time wishing it were perfect, trying to imagine it the way it was or might have been, or I can see how beautiful it is just like this.

You think religions are constant things? inflexible and solid and form full-grown? Religions evolve. They grow out of a need, just like any other natural phenomenon, and they follow the same natural laws. They are born, grown, have sons, and illegitimate sons, and die.

So in The Thin Red Line 1st/Sgt Warden became 1st/Sgt Welsh, Pvt Prewitt became Pvt Witt, Mess/Sgt Stark became Mess/Sgt Storm. While remaining the same people as before. In Whistle Welsh becomes Mart Winch, Witt becomes Bobby Prell, Storm becomes John Strange.

As you are now so once were we.

All things are inconstant except the faith in the soul, which changes all things and fills their inconstancy with light.

A corpse is meat gone bad. Well and what's cheese? Corpse of milk.

Do you know what a pearl is and what an opal is? My soul when you came sauntering to me first through those sweet summer evenings was beautiful but with the pale passionless beauty of a pearl. Your love has passed through me and now I feel my mind something like an opal, that is, full of strange uncertain hues and colours, of warm lights and quick shadows and of broken music.

A writer is] a priest of eternal imagination, transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life.

If we were all suddenly somebody else.

He would fade into something impalpable under her eyes and then in a moment he would be transfigured. Weakness and timidity and inexperience would fall from him in that magic moment.

Till tree from tree, tree among trees tree over tree become stone to stone, stone between stones, stone under stone for ever. O Loud, hear the wee beseech of thees of each of these thy unlitten ones! Grant sleep in hour's time, O Loud! That they take no chill. That they do ming no merder. That they shall not gomeet madhowiatrees. Loud, heap miseries upon us yet entwine our arts with laughter low!

Where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green...

It surprised him to see that the play which he had known at rehearsals for a disjointed lifeless thing had suddenly assumed a life of its own.

God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain.

we wail, batten, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die:

Dac? cineva-È™i închipuie c? nu sunt divin Nu-i mai dau de b?ut când mai fac vin, Ap? s? bea, dar s? È™tie c? nu-i ap? chioar?, Ci-i apa pe care o fac eu când d? vinul din mine afar?.

There'll be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her final tear.

Wait. Five months. Molecules all change. I am other I now. Other I got pound. Buzz. Buzz. But I, entelechy, form of forms, am I by memory because under everchanging forms. I that sinned and prayed and fasted. A child Conmee saved from pandies. I, I and I. I.

before all this has time to end the golden age must return with its vengeance. Man will become dirigible...

their jaws grow large, and their lips grow coarse, like the poor Paddies who eat potatoes.

Cure for a red nose. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent colourig it.