Walter Raleigh Quotes

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, Tomorrow will be dying.

Time is the rider that breaks youth.

Time is the subtle thief of youth.

The gods have been good to you. But what the gods give they quickly take away. You have only a few years in which to live really, perfectly, and fully. When your youth goes, your beauty will go with it, and then you will suddenly discover that there are no triumphs left for you, or have to content yourself with those mean triumphs that the memory of your past will make more bitter than defeats. Every month as it wanes bring you nearer to something dreadful. Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your roses.

'Tis time, my friend, 'tis time! For rest the heart is aching; Days follow days in flight, and every day is taking, Fragments of being, while together you and I, Make plans to live. Look, all is dust, and we shall die.

An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay, And glides in modest innocence away.

You can't be young always. The day will come when everything will fall apart.

We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.

Even such isTime, which takes in trust Our youth, our joys, and all we have, And pays us but with age and dust, Who in the dark and silent grave When we have wandered all our ways Shuts up the story of our days, And from which earth, and grave, and dust The Lord shall raise me up, I trust.

We tried not to age, but time had its rage.

Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.

Life is much shorter than I imagined it to be.

The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.

Time is a great conference planning our end, and youth is only the past putting a leg forward.

When we look on the roses and gaiety of youth, the mournful idea of mortality is altogether alien to our thoughts. We have heard of it as a speculation and a tale, but nothing but experience can bring it home to us.

It ends all things: birds, trees, flowers, mountain tops, and business; it grinds stones to sand, and as terrible as it is, and it's the most beautiful thing we have in our lives - time.

Dust, in the end, settles on everything.

The brief span of our poor unhappy life to its final hour Is hastening on; and while we drink and call for gay wreaths, Perfumes, and young girls, old age creeps upon us, unperceived.

You walk around feeling like a teenager and immortal your whole life, and suddenly there isn't much time left.

I think we all lose in the end because we don't get to stay here forever.

Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.

But, Lord Crist! whan that it remembreth me Upon my yowthe, and on my jolitee, It tickleth me aboute myn herte roote. Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote That I have had my world as in my tyme. But age, alias! that al wole envenyme, Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith. Lat go, farewel! the devel go therwith! The flour is goon, ther is namoore to telle; The bren, as I best kan, now most I selle.

Age isn't important until you run out of it.