Quotes About Transformation

I'm a hoax, a dying boy who's grown wings.

They were the cream of the crop, but soon they'd be chaff, scythed from swordsmen into skeletons.

Wer liebt, ist blind, taub und stumm. Die Liebe verändert den Rhythmus der Tage. Sie macht uns glauben, es sei Sommer, wenn der Herbstregen fällt. Wir spüren mitten in der Sonne Kälteschauer wie im Winter. Sie ist trügerisch und spielt mit uns, dass wir auf das Unmögliche vertrauen...

Death is a butterfly in it's cocoon waiting to fly . . .

Don't let the violence of your past blind you from the peace in your present. Lutti

Now, after the material resources of the colonies have been looted, their spiritual and cultural resources are being transformed into commodities for the world market.

If education is always to be conceived along the same antiquated lines of a mere transmission of knowledge, there is little to be hoped from it in the bettering of man's future.

It is through beauty, poetry and visionary power that the world will be renewed.

Cold enough to freeze your Winnebago one day, melting all over the place the next.

In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that . . . In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. —Albert Camus

Fishwives. Fishwidows. And we all set out to be mermaids.

Nimiedades que servían para recordarle que antaño había existido el mundo exterior y que el presente era mucho más que el ayer y sus papeles amarillentos, su tinta parda y esos mapas que se desintegraban al desplegarlos.

A soul is a water changing its freshness and depth according to the soul that drinks it.

Existence – an experienced miracle, with continuous improvement.

Love turns animal into angel, but also conversely.

Nothing exists forever in one shape or another. You say existence – you say transformation, evolution and regress.

Roses don't die, they return to the light.

We are born to experience blossoming, ripening and wasting.

We are destined to be roots, trunks, branches, and wings. When flying is out of reach, we are two hands of dirt closer to infinity.

You have to go through successive diluting and crystallization to find your true light.

What sapwent through that little threadto make the cherry red!

Of the crow-blue mussel shells, one keepsadjusting the ash heaps;opening and shutting itself likeaninjured fan.

As we become purer channels for God's light, we develop an appetite for the sweetness that is possible in this world. A miracle worker is not geared toward fighting the world that is, but toward creating the world that could be.

Qué hermosa es la revolución, aun en su misma barbarie!