Quotes About Transformation

War is the locomotive of change

The old Bolshevik party is dead but Bolshevism is raising its head everywhere.

however, constitutes a new historical phenomenon.

The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it's overturned the order of the soul...

Your body will never be familiar.

You go to Heaven once you've been to Hell

It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was a real mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was but one mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed and changed into itself over and over.

you wanted to be the Superman who was never Clark Kent

In our rags of light, all dressed to kill.

At first first nothing will happen to us and later on it will happen to us again.

Well I am the one who loves changing from nothing to one.

When passion dies friendship hovers round our flesh like flies

I write to murder the selves that whisper untruths to me.

If you are the dealer Let me out of the game If you are the healer I'm broken and lame If thine is the glory Mine must be the shame You want it darker We kill the flame

Sit in a chair and keep still. Let the dancer's shoulders emerge from your shoulders, the dancer's chest from your chest, the dancer's loins from your loins, the dancer's hips and thighs from yours; and from your silence the throat that makes a sound, and from your bafflement a clear song to which the dancer moves...

SIT IN A CHAIR AND KEEP still. Let the dancer's shoulders emerge from your shoulders, the dancer's chest from your chest, the dancer's loins from your loins, the dancer's hips and thighs from yours; and from your silence the throat that makes a sound, and from your bafflement a clear song to which the dancer moves, and let him serve God in beauty.

Mintea mea zboar? tot mai departe de-a lungul acestei È™osele înguste, mânat? de curiozitate, str?lucind de acceptare, tot mai departe, ca un cârlig cu pene, aruncat cu m?iestrie È™i înfipt adânc în lumina de deasupra pârâului. Undeva, unde eu nu pot ajunge È™i unde nu mai am control, cârligul se îndreapt? È™i devine suli??, suliÈ›a se scurteaz? È™i devine ac, iar acul coase lumea la un loc.

I confess I meant to grow wings and lose my mind I confess that I've forgotten what for Why wings and a lost mind

I sailed like a swan I sank like a rock But time is long gone Past my laughing stock

The party is over but I've landed on my feet And I'm standing here on this corner Where there used to be a street

And some women, Breavman thought, women like Shell, create [beauty] as they go along, changing not so much their faces as the air around them. They break down old rules of light and cannot be interpreted nor compared. They make every room original.

The soul's journey is from Oneness into separation, ultimately to return to Oneness." ~ Leonard Jacobson

But when does something's destiny finally come to fruition? Is the plant complete when it flowers? When it goes to seed? When the seeds sprout? When everything turns into compost?

Things are either devolving toward, or evolving from, nothingness.