Quotes About Transformation

Ti ricordi quello che facemmo con la mia foto di sposa? Voglio continuare per quella strada. Viene il giorno che mi riduco tutta a diagrammi, divento un nastro bucherellato e non mi trovi più.

Sebbene Nino non mi desse corda, il solo intravederlo mi teneva la testa per aria durante le lezioni. La sua presenza qualche aula più' in la', vero, vivo, colto più' dei professori e coraggioso e disobbediente, svuotava di senso i discorsi dei miei insegnanti, le righe dei libri, i progetti di matrimonio, la pompa di benzina lungo lo stradone

What we were at the beginning is only a vague patch of colour contemplated from the edge of what we have become.

When one stops writing one becomes oneself again, the person one usually is, in terms of occupations, thoughts, language. Thus I am now me again, I am here, I go about my ordinary business, I have nothing to do with the book, or, to be exact, I entered it, but I can no longer enter it.

Become. It was a verb that had always obsessed me...I wanted to become, even though I had never known what. And I had become, that was certain, but without an object, without a real passion, without a determined ambition.

Quisiera no tener memoria o convertirme en el piadoso polvo para escapar a la condena de mirarme.

Te fuiste sin llevarte nada, entregaste la casa a un hostelero sin escrúpulos. Abandonaste todo y todo se ha perdido. -Nada se ha perdido si nos hemos encontrado.-Leonora tiembla pero Max no la escucha.

Deshacerse de sí mismo es lo más difícil del mundo, a menos de tener vocación de suicida. ¿Habría posibilidad de llegar a otra Bárbara que no le pesara tanto ni le provocara ese dolor?

Diego, estoy sola. - Frida Kahlo en su diario, 1955. Diego, ya no estoy sola. - Frida Kahlo, 3 días después. Mundo, estoy solo. - México, 19 de septiembre de 1985. Mundo, ya no estoy solo. - México, 21 de septiembre de 1985.

La finalidad de la vida no es prosperar sino transformarse. Cuando uno se lanza a lo desconocido se salva.

The Man's rage is huge. Moil and toil and turmoil, he's coming to the boil, time to cool the heat with a jet of foam. He wants the woman to take off her clothes right away. So that she measures up to his size. He wants to conduct his lightning into her. Not that his wildfire could ever be tamed by her, and anyway he has plenty of matches. To create himself anew, as often as need be.

Let me write it down, quite unambiguously: paper could cut me open as a paper knife slits paper. I'd like to meet the person who could make a new woman of me out of the things I say.

I want to keep smashing myself until I am whole.

Broke the tassels from the birch-trees, Steeped the foliage in honey, Made a lye from milk and ashes, Made of these a strong decoction, Mixed it with the fat and marrow Of the reindeer of the mountains, Made a soap of magic virtue,

The prevalent fashion has been to proclaim the latest revolution as the herald of a new day, and the newest turbulence as the necessary and beneficent prelude to an epoch of orderliness and justice.

Dracula visited the Wolf Department at the Zoological Gardens. "These wolves seem upset at something," he observed. The next morning the cage was all twisted out of shape and the gray wolf Berserker was missing. Dracula had temporarily inherited its body. Dracula had a totally difference experience at the zoo from that of other people.

Your hair looks different," Grisha told Varvara. "Oh? I haven't had it cut." He squinted at her. "I think it grew

And I had never heard anyone describe so accurately the difference between last year and this year: Last year, I admired wines. This, I'm wandering inside the red world.

W]e are not merely tempered and schooled by failure but compelled, in however subtle a fashion, to become something other than we were.

We come done, complete as we are; we leave undone with unfulfilled changes.

The teacher was still alive, so he sought her out and asked the old but still alert lady what magic formula she had used to pull these boys out of the slums into successful achievement. The teacher's eyes sparkled and her lips broke into a gentle smile. "It's really very simple," she said. "I loved those boys.

Everyone thinks alchemy is dead, but alchemists live among us—they are called editors: adept in the art of transformation, they practice arcane methods of selection, deletion and synthesis to take what is base and produce gold.

The screenplay, obliged to work in its own right, is both an argument with the source material and a commentary on it.

Grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse. It simply changes temperature.