Patrick Rothfuss Quotes

I've become more comfortable as time has gone on with saying goodbye because... I've been having so many conversations about the cyclical nature of life. It just keeps going.

In the fall, you don't grieve because the leaves are falling and dying. You say, "Isn't it beautiful!" Well, we're the same way. There are seasons. We all fall sooner or later. It's all so beautiful. And our concepts, without investigation, keep us from knowing this. It's beautiful to be a leaf, to be born, to fall, to give way to the next, to become food for the roots. It's life, always changing its form and always giving itself completely. We all do our part. No mistake.

Everyone goes through their winters and springs, and their summers and autumns.

Leaves die, but trees do not. They only undress.

The falling leaf that tells of autumn's death is, in a subtler sense, a prophecy of spring.

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new.

The world goes up and the world goes down, the sunshine follows the rain; and yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown can never come over again.

From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.

The closer we come to the negative, to death, the more we blossom.

It's funny how it usually works out that I end up dying. It sort of works out, because by the time I die, I'm usually tired of working on that particular movie, so I look forward to it.

Life is change, to cease to change is to cease to live; yet if you may shed a tear beside the death-bed of an old friend, let not your heart be silent on the dissolving of a faith.

I think there's seasons of life. It oscillates.

Life is about seasons, and I think you got to know the seasons.

Every season is a season of its own.

Beneath the winter's snow lie germs of summer flowers.

Life moves forward. The old leaves wither, die and fall away, and the new growth extends forward into the light.

Death is the dropping of the flower, that the fruit may swell.

I think death is the most wonderful invention of life. It purges the system of these old models that are obsolete.

Death is not an end. It is a new impulse.

Rebirth is almost impossible without the darkness.....I tell myself I am experiencing the death of myself as mother, the death of myself as a younger woman -- precious old lives going by the wayside. Of course, I should let myself grieve. To deny the grief is to squander a transforming and radiant possibility.

To live fully is to let go and die with each passing moment, and to be reborn in each new one.

It almost seems as if autumn were the true creator, more creative than the spring, which is too even-toned, more creative when it comes with its will-to-change and shatters the much too ready-made, self-satisfied and really almost bourgeois-complacent image of summer.

I could not have known then that everybody, every person, has to leave, has to change like seasons; they have to or they die. The seasons remind me that I must keep changing.

In life it is more necessary to lose than to gain. A seed will only germinate if it dies.