A Quote by Jane Yolen

How often is the passing of one storm only a prelude to another. — © Jane Yolen
How often is the passing of one storm only a prelude to another.
I had a certain level of patience, but sometimes weathering the storm is a patient process. Every storm don't pass fast. Every storm, it can be passing, but it can be getting stronger and stronger or it could be coming down hard.
And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
If we can say with Seneca, "This life is only a prelude to eternity," then we need not worry so much over the fittings and furnishings of this ante-room; and more than that, it will give dignity and purpose to the fleeting days to know they are linked with the eternal things as prelude and preparation.
What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!
We affect one another quite enough merely by existing. Whenever the stars cross, or is it comets? fragments pass briefly from one orbit to another. On rare occasions there is total collision, but most often the two simply continue without incident, neither losing more than a particle to the other, in passing.
Taking it easy is often the prelude to backsliding. Comfort precedes collapse.
Understanding is often a prelude to forgiveness, but they are not the same, and we often forgive what we cannot understand (seeing nothing else to do) and understand what we cannot pardon.
The profound calm which only apparently precedes and prophesies of the storm, is perhaps more awful than the storm itself; for indeed, the calm is but the wrapper and envelop of the storm, and contains it in itself, as the seemingly harmless rifle holds the fatal powder, and the ball, and the explosion.
Death is but an aspect of life, and the destruction of one material form is but a prelude to building up of another.
When you approach the second half of your life, you start to unconsciously consider what you're passing on. As a writer, that's obviously part of what you're doing. And as a teacher, that's another way of passing on information, history, or whatever you have.
As anger is a passing storm, so it comes not gradually and with signs, but like a sudden sweep of wind or black squall.
A lot of times, I've always looked at pitching in the All-Star Game as a prelude to how you pitch in the postseason, sometimes how you might have to pitch on two days' rest out of the pen, only throw one inning and then you have to go face the best hitters. That's what you do in the All-Star Game.
With respect to the ocean being the heart of our blue planet: We are often asked, 'How much protection is enough?' We can only answer with another question: How much of your heart is worth protecting?
This life is only a prelude to eternity.
Sometimes we'll only see each other in passing, like ships passing in the night.
The outer storm ceases the moment the inner storm ends, for they are the same storm.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!