Wilbur Ross Quotes

Our passions are true phoenixes; as the old burn out the new straight rise up from the ashes.

Our passions are the true phoenixes; when the old one is burnt out, a new one rises from its ashes.

Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes.

I speak of the old Japan, because out of the ashes of the old Japan there has risen a new Japan.

It's best to have failure happen early in life. It wakes up the Phoenix bird in you so you rise from the ashes.

I'm like a phoenix. I rise from the ashes.

Jean Grey, the Phoenix... she finds a way to reincarnate herself constantly, so one never knows.

You have to keep recycling yourself.

I've had so many rebirths, I should come with my own midwife by now.

Till o'er the wreck, emerging from the storm, Immortal Nature lifts her changeful form: Mounts from her funeral pyre on wings of flame, And soars and shines, another and the same.

There ought, I thought, to be a ritual for being born twice - patched, retreaded and approved for the road.

In order to rise From its own ashes A phoenix First Must Burn.

Each book starts from ashes.

Tonight go to sleep as though your whole past has been dropped. Die to the past. And in the morning wake up as a new man in a new morning. Don't let the same one who went to bed get up. Let him go to sleep for good. Let the one who is ever-new and ever-fresh awake instead.

In nature forms are endlessly being destroyed and then recreated and destroyed and recreated. Nature isn't afraid to destroy forms in the process of regenerating. So why are we afraid of that in life?

The alchemist was dazed and dumbfounded, as the true meaning of the magic was revealed: *The dead will rise from glade to glen and ancient will be young again*. The dead had, after all, risen. From dead and dry things there was growth, and new life everywhere. And the endlessly long winter had at last turned to spring. From life to death and back again to life. It was indeed the greatest magic in the world.

This should be agony. I should be a mass of aching muscle - broken, spent, unable to move. And, were I an older man, I surely would ... ... but I'm a man of thirty - of twenty again. The rain on my chest is a baptism - I'm born again.

And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure as a baby.

We can never be born enough.

Let us help the phoenix to rise from the ashes; let us help lay the foundation for a new renaissance; let us help to accelerate the spiritual awakening until it lifts us into the golden age which would come.

The seed dies into a new life, and so does man.

And even our present acres of death will someday bloom again.

He did not know that the new life would not be given him for nothing, that he would have to pay dearly for it, that it would cost him great striving, great suffering. But that is the beginning of a new story -- the story of the gradual renewal of a man, the story of his gradual regeneration, of his passing from one world into another, of his initiation into a new unknown life. That might be the subject of a new story, but our present story is ended.