Quotes About Transformation

I'll break my staff,Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,And, deeper than did ever plummet sound,I'll drown my book.

And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.

O Hamlet! what a falling-off was there.

Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly?

Alas! 'tis true I have gone here and there,And made myself a motley to the view,Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,Made old offenses of affections new.

Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.

She that herself will sliver and disbranchFrom her material sap, perforce must witherAnd come to deadly use.

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;This sensible warm motion to becomeA kneaded clod; and the delighted spiritTo bathe in fiery floods, or to resideIn thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,And blown with restless violence round aboutThe pendant world.

Dwindle, peak, and pine.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near,And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Refrain tonight;And that shall lend a kind of easinessTo the next abstinence: the next more easy;For use almost can change the stamp of nature.

He makes a July's day short as December.

Now is the winter of our discontentMade glorious summer by this sun of York.

When I have seen by Time's fell hand defacedThe rich proud cost of outworn buried age,When sometime lofty towers I see down-rasedAnd brass eternal slave to mortal rage;When I have seen the hungry ocean gainAdvantage on the kingdom of the shore,And the firm soil win of the wat'ry main,Increasing store with loss and loss with store.

The chameleon's dish: I eat the air, promisecrammed; you cannot feed capons so.

Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated.

That time of year thou mayst in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

Our new heraldry is hands not hearts.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away...

Sweet are the uses of adversity, which, like a toad, though ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in its head.

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Anger is a great force. If you control it, it can be transmuted into a power which can move the whole world.

it's always a good time to change your mind when to do so will widen your heart.

When a farm or a family is stricken, nature destroys what humankind has made. Houses peel and crumble. Tilled fields are subsumed by weeds and grasses. Well-tended orchards become knotted, spectral forests. The earth, given an opening, always reclaims itself and obliterates order—erasing the outward evidence of an agrarian society.