In any case life is but a procession of shadows, and God knows why it is that we embrace them so eagerly, and see them depart with such anguish, being shadows.

As you get older, time speeds up but life slows down.

You can't get out of life alive.

As for life, it is a battle and a sojourning in a strange land; but the fame that comes after is oblivion.

To one who has enjoyed the full life of any scene, of any hour, what thoughts can be recorded about it seem like the commas and semicolons in the paragraph-mere stops.

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

When I have fears that I may cease to beBefore my pen has glean'd my teeming brain.

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forgetWhat thou among the leaves hast never known,The weariness, the fever, and the fretHere, where men sit and hear each other groan;Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,Where youth grows pale, and specter-thin, and dies;Where but to think is to be full of sorrowAnd leaden-eyed despairs.

Time you enjoy wasting was not wasted.

By the time I recognize this moment, this moment will be gone. . . But I will bend the light, pretend that it somehow lingered on

It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth - and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up, we will then begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had.

Life is a constant process of dying.