Quotes About Transformation

Life is change. If you aren't growing and evolving you're standing still, and the rest of the world is surging ahead. Most of these people are very immature. They lead "still" lives, waiting.

One thing Gamache knew for sure. Little Frederick Lawson had not picked up his stick, pointed it, and slaughtered a village filled with old men, and women and children. So how did one become the other? How did a nine-year-old boy acting out heroics become a twenty-year-old man committing an atrocity?

But the woman he knew and loved had been swallowed up. Like Jonah. Her white whale of sorrow and loss in an ocean of body fluid.

They need to fight their way out of the cocoon. It builds their wings and muscles. It's the struggle that saves them. Without it they're crippled. If you help an emperor moth, you kill it.

lines from The Tempest to unnerve

Julie wasn't as cheery, not as bright as before she'd joined them. They'd tarnished her.

You lost your heart, your memories, your laughter, your brain and it even took your bones. Eventually it all came back, but different. Rearranged.

Loss was like that, Gamache knew. You didn't just lose a loved one. You lost your heart, your memories, your laughter, your brain and it even took your bones. Eventually it all came back, but different. Rearranged

I just sit where I'm put, composed of stone and wishful thinking: That the deity that kills for pleasure will also heal, He could, even now, from what felt like an impossible distance, see through the mullioned windows of the bistro to the thick forests, and the leaves that would already be changing. As everything eventually did.

You lost your heart, your memories, your laughter, your brain and it even took your bones. Eventually it all came back, but different. Rearranged. 'Had you known Madame

How intimating became intimidating. It was subtle, and all the more powerful for it.

Because the present became the past, and the past grew. And got up, and followed you.

Life is change. If you aren't growing and evolving you're standing still, and the rest of the world is surging ahead. Most of these people are very immature. They lead "still" lives, waiting.' 'Waiting for what?

I turned into Little Red Riding Hood. I made a cake, packed it up and went through the forest until I met the wolves. That's something the story got wrong, wolves don't travel solo, they hunt in packs.

Oh! To be a butterfly Still, upon a flower, Winking with its painted wings, Happy in the hour.

When you came, you were like red wine and honey, And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness. Now you are like morning bread, Smooth and pleasant. I hardly taste you at all for I know your savour, But I am completely nourished.

All recurring joy is pain refined.

New conditions of life will stimulate thought and give new forms to its expression.

Curiously, ghosts are rarely if ever seen in the nude. They appear fully clothed, and may even change clothing on subsequent appearances. They may change their form, to appear as they looked at different stages of their lives. Unless someone out there knows of an extoplasmic department store on the spiritual plane, we have to wonder, "Where do the clothes and accessories come from?"

se a gente segue assim, para trás ou para a frente, vê que não pode se partir o fio da vida, mesmo que está podre nalgum lado, ele sempre se emenda noutro sítio, cresce, desvia, foge, avança, curva, pára, esconde, aparece... " - from "Luuanda

Love seems to beautify and inspire all nature. It raises the earthly caterpillar into the ethereal butterfly, it paints the feathers in spring, it lights the glowworm's lamp, it wakens the song of birds, and inspires the poet's lay. Even inanimate Nature seems to feel the spell, and flowers glow with the richest colours.

Your body expresses yesterday in what it wants today. If you think: yesterday I was, tomorrow I shall be, you are thinking: I have died a little. Be what you are becoming, without clinging to what you might have been, what you might yet be. Never settle. Leave definitiveness to the undecided; we don't need it.

I pray my soul will welcome always that small seed. That I will hail it when it enters me. I don't mind being grit, soil, dirt, mud-brown, laced with the rot of old leaves, if only the seed can

When I'm with Joe none of this matters. I think he is a reporter because he likes to talk to people. Wherever we go we end up talking to strangers. And liking them. I don't think I ever really liked the world until I met him. My parents don't like the world, or me, or they would trust me.