Quotes About Transformation

You're like the weird fucked-up sister of yourself, Shelby. Whereas I'm just an extension of my loser self that anyone could have foreseen. I have followed the path set out before me. You veered.

Anything whole can be broken, and anything broken can be put back together again. That is the meaning of Abracadabra. I create what I speak.

I take responsibility for the man I used to be, for I carry him with me. As strong as I am, he's a heavy burden

Witches are made, not born.

He thought about how love could move you in ways you wouldn't have imagined, one foot in front of the other, even when you thought you had nothing left inside.

werewolves were members of the old Danish families who owned slaves. Their transformation was God's punishment for their wrongdoings. You could spy their teeth and claws at night, even when they were in their human guise, so they often wore gloves and scarves, even in the hottest times of the year.

Maybe you'll both be who you always were if you're given time.

You once said that just as anything whole can be broken, anything broken can be put back together again.

It was as if when he had been stolen as an infant, he had come back as a changeling, as if someone had reached inside him and grabbed his heart to keep under lock and key.

Lately, she's been wondering if perhaps when the living become the dead they leave an empty space behind, a hollow no one else can fill.

In two weeks a man could completely refashion his history; he could walk all the way to Ohio or Iowa, change his name and his accent, disappear into another life. In the woods, footprints faded, the wind rose up to disperse of clothing, flesh became grass.

Our mother had taught us that when the moon was white, reappearing after its absence, it was showing us that what had been hidden could easily become whole again.

When darkness fell, he told me to close my eyes and dream, for in my dreams I would find another world, and in my waking life I would soon enough find such a world as well...

once a girl walked into a library she could never be controlled again.

That spring he found the old bear, dead, in one of the caves. He slept beside the body. He dreamed the bear was his father. That was when he gave up being human. He gave her up as well.

Writing itself was a magical act in which imagination altered reality and gave form to power. To

He had appeared beside her because she had wanted him to. She had called him to her, and was calling him still. Even when she fell asleep, she dreamed of water, as if the world were topsy-turvy and everything she cared about had been lost in the deep. She plunged through the green waves with her eyes wide open, searching for the world as she'd known it, but that world no longer existed; everything that had once been solid was liquid now, and the birds swam alongside the fish.

This was true magic, the making and unmaking of the world with paper and ink.

sometimes the right thing felt all wrong until it was over and done with.

I saw this was the way of the future, to leave the past behind as if it were a dream.

I think of life as a book of stories, he goes on. You move through the stories and the characters change.

I heard a bitterness that hadn't been there before. Something was changing inside him. He'd had enough of following the rules.

I was walking through a dream rather than living my life. I had become someone else, but who was that someone?

It was not possible to hold on to ashes. In my dreams I had always walked out of the past, and it shut behind me, a door I couldn't unlock. Now I intended to do the same in my waking life.