Quotes About Transformation

few hours later, when Dynasty danced onto the track, I felt my pulse jump. Her coat gleamed. Her steps were high and springing and confident. She didn't look like the six-year-old mare D had turned over to me months before, but like a queen.

Each object was the same as it had been—but the air all around felt different. I was different.

Something was missing in my life—in me—and I thought writing could fill it or fix it, or cure me of myself.

It may be the luckiest and purest thing of all to see time sharpen to a single point. To feel the world rise up and shake you hard, insisting that you rise, too, somehow. Some way. That you come awake and stretch, painfully. That you change, completely and irrevocably—with whatever means are at your disposal—into the person you were always meant to be.

Then the rudder and elevator finally come to life, swinging her nose up, and she's left the earth—arrow straight. A butterfly after all.

And then you snatched me from the ashes and stirred my dreams back to life.

Every change is a form of liberation. My mother used to say a change is always good even if it's for the worse.

It turns out that playing it safe, at least in matters of the heart, is the most dangerous thing you can do. By that route, you become a butterfly pinned to the wall, with wonderful colors and all kinds of potential but going nowhere. Your wings are clipped. To really fly you must claim the courage to live out of your real self, the one God called into being.

You are what you are, until you decide to be different.

It is common knowledge that Belle women make hard men melt like butter in a pan. They are equally adept at reversing the process.

Some women can touch a man and heal like Jesus. The man who sees sunrise from a Belle woman's bed will swear he's been born again.

Do you know how they make the strongest sword? They hammer it flat then hold it to the fire.

People did not really understand who they were until they had been tested, and then came the terrible surprise that they did not know who this new person was either.

Ibn Bassani, a Sufi mystic, all his life prayed, asking God to make his body the size of hell and send him there in the place of the world. I see my Lord Christ having done that for humanity.

How can you compare the flower buds of a tree in spring to the amazing lush greenery of summer, to the fiery leaves of autumn, to the stark chiaroscuro of winter? We understand those changes are irrevocable, and each one delights in its own way.

An artist must either give up art or develop. There are, of course, two ways of giving up: stopping altogether or taking the familiar Hollywood course - making tricks out of what was once done for love.

The chains and the silence, which should have bound her deep within herself, which should have smothered her, strangled her, on the contrary freed her from herself.

Where was he, her Alexander, of once? Was he truly gone? The Alexander of the Summer Garden, of their first Lazarevo days, of the hat in his hands, white toothed, peaceful, laughing, languid, stunning Alexander, had he been left far behind? Well, Tatiana supposed that was only right. For Alexander believed his Tatiana of once was gone, too. The swimming child Tatiana of the Luga, of the Neva, of the River Kama. Perhaps on the surface they were still in their twenties, but their hearts were old.

I want amnesia! I want a fucking lobotomy. Could I please never think again? Look what's happened to us, us, Tania. Don't you remember how we used to be? Just look what's happened.

What strength he once possessed had left his body and gone to a tiny girl with freckles.

Sometimes the beast needs to be loved before it can be lovable. Love her in her sin, that's what divine love means. Love her with the highest form of love on earth. Love everything. Then you will see mystery in everything.

What was the point of falling in love if you stayed exactly as you were?

It's hard to accept that the person we love will not change. [...] Not in this life. And possibly not in any other. Our love is so strong that we think it can change things. It can change the world, can beat back death, can change the man we love. [...] Because our love has changed us.

There was no Alexander anymore; the man he knew had died and was reborn inside a perfect heart, given to him straight from God, to him and for him.