Quotes About Transformation

Life's all about the revolution, isn't it?" he said. "The one inside, I mean.

Each queen was once a girl like you; told who to be and what to do. Not pretty, not pleasing, far too rough. Lacking, less than, not enough. Till wounded subjects, anguished dead, mattered more than things that others said. Then like a flag, her will unfold. Go now girl, remake the world!

There is magic in this sad, hard world. A magic stronger than fate, stronger than chance. And it is seen in the unlikeliest of places... It is the magic of a frail and falliable creature, one capable of both unspeakable cruelty and immense kindness. It lives inside every human being ready to redeem us. To transform us. To save us. If we can only find the courage to listen to it. It is the magic of the human heart.

Because he deserves a second chance," Love said. "Everyone does. My enchantress transformed the outer man to transform the inner. His suffering will teach him kindness and compassion. He'll find his heart again.

when a Chinese wished you ill, he would tell you, "May you live in interesting times.

A veces todavía veo a aquella chiquilla en mi imaginación. Corre y ríe con sus gastados calzones y su levita prestada. Da vueltas por el Patio de Mármol, emocionada por su buena fortuna. Veo a esa chiquilla, pero no la reconozco.

Only education can empty the workhouses and prisons, the slums and rookeries.

El cambio es un beso en la oscuridad. Una rosa en la nieve. Un camino del bosque en una noche ventosa.

From the moment he held her, and looked into her eyes, he was a changed man. He'd held that tiny girl in his arms that moment; he would hold her in his heart forever.

I hardly recognize you. Where's the gown and the jewellery, little sister? Where are the conch you always carried around? Where's your hair?' Desiderio asked. 'Gone, Des. It's gone. Everything's gone. Cerulea. The palace. Mum and Dad-' Her voice broke.

Becoming a parent changed you forever, as nothing else could.

Right now I want a word that describes the feeling that you get--a cold sick feeling, deep down inside--when you know something is happening that will change you, and you don't want it to, but you can't stop it. And you know, for the first time, for the very first time, that there will now be a before and an after , a was and a will be . And that you will never again quite be the same person you were.

Life's all about the revolution, isn't it? The one inside, I mean. You can't change history. You can't change the world. All you can ever change is yourself.

I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.

Turn away. From the darkness, the madness, the pain. Open your eyes and look at the light.

Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.

Who would have guessed that four minutes could change everything?

I knew exactly what you'd done. I know that feelings. You have to do something. You have to change something radically, because you can't stay like you are for another second, or you're going to explode.

You've gone far away to a place with no horses and very little grass, and you're studying how to write a story with a happy ending. If you can write that ending for yourself, maybe you can come back.

I gave my dad a thumbs-up. He stared at me. My mom turned to him in the car, asking him, What? What is it? He kept staring at me. My brown hair was an even bigger shock for him than I'd expected. I smiled and waved at him and mouthed, "Welcome home." He put his hand to his eyes. He knew I was finally cured.

This is the music business. 'Five years is five hundred years' - your words.

time's a goon

He's rigged a tiny cassette player with a small set of foam earphones to listen to demo tapes and rough mixes. Occasionally he'll hand the device to Mindy, wanting her opinion, and each time, the experience of music pouring directly against her eardrums - hers alone - is a shock that makes her eyes well up; the privacy of it, the way it transforms her surroundings into a golden montage, as if she were looking back on this lark in Africa with Lou from some distant future.

It made me alert, like someone had scrubbed mint all over my skin. I'd walk into that stinking, miserable prison and for the next three hours, a wise and beautiful woman would float out of the wreckage of my life, and her words and thoughts and tiniest movements were precious.