Quotes About Transformation

Hell = "where we get rid of all the lies told to us. That's where we go and cry like rain. Mom, hell is where you go to see yourself.

Once innocence--an all too-brief state of being, if such a one exists--encounters experience, it is transformed. If that transformation is understood, it becomes knowledge. And if that knowledge is employed, then it becomes wisdom.

Pero debe suponerse que, tal y como suelen terminar estas historias, fueron muy felices. Aunque la Princesa nunca más sería tan cándidad, ni el Príncipe tan Azul, ni los niños tan ignorantes e indefensos.

There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

en otros términos, quien dice ingestión dice asimilación. En palabras de Meister Eckhart: «el alma se une con Dios como el alimento con el hombre, que así se vuelve ojo en el ojo, oído en el oído; así en Dios el alma deviene Dios»; pues «yo soy lo que me absorbe más que yo mismo».

I would define a book as a work of magic whence escape, all kinds of images to trouble the souls and change the hearts of men.

All changes, even the most longed for, must have their melancholy

Les vierges entonnaient le cantique de Zacharie: -- Béni soit le Seigneur, le dieu d'Israël. Brusquement la voix s'arrêta dans leur gorge. Elles avaient vu la face du moine et elles fuyaient d'épouvante en criant: -- Un vampire! un vampire! Il était devenu si hideux qu'en passant la main sur son visage, il sentit sa laideur.

The French having passed from feudalism to monarchy, and from monarchy to a financial oligarchy, will easily pass from a financial oligarchy to anarchy.

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves, we must die to one life before we can enter into another!

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

Ask kin-tsugi, the Japanese art of "golden joinery," in which a broken bowl is fixed and seamed with glow, cracks to the forefront, filled in by gold, rendering the repaired thing more remarkable, honoring its shatter. The result is neither broken nor unbroken, but both at once, shadow, object, corona around an eclipsed sun. Own the ways we break, it seems to say: understand that the fault lines of a mind or body are individual, and honor them.

The mark of a good book is it changes every time you read it.

The map of the world is always changing; sometimes it happens overnight. All it takes is the blink of an eye, the squeeze of a trigger, a sudden gust of wind. Wake up and your life is perched on a precipice; fall asleep, it swallows you whole.

The sound of a windshield-wiper against a page of Diderot is all it took to turn it into Racinian dialogue

You have not come back from hell with empty hands.

"Know thyself" — a maxim as pernicious as it is odious. A person observing himself would arrest his own development. Any caterpillar who tried to "know himself" would never become a butterfly.

Know thyself! A maxim as pernicious as it is ugly. Whoever observes himself arrests his own development. A caterpillar who wanted to know itself well would never become a butterfly.

Oh, would that my mind could let fall its dead ideas, as the tree does its withered leaves!

The crisis is a period in which a diseased social, economic, and political body or system cannot live on as before and is obliged, on pain of death, to undergo transformations that will give it a new lease on life. Therefore, this period of crisis is a historical moment of danger and suspense during which the crucial decisions and transformations are made, which will determine the future development of the system if any and its new social, economic, and political basis.

We are like blocks of stone … blows of His chisel which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.

He tells me that for the past few years my mind has been a swamp- stagnant, fetid, seeping in every direction. Now it's time for my mind to be a river- raging, channeled, and therefore pure. p280

We all love conflagrations. When the sky changes color, it is a dead man's passing.