Daniel Barenboim Quotes

The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

I feel our relationship to life, to the rest of the world, is very tenuous. It feels fleeting.

I know that everything comes to an end. Everything is a phase.

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

Time takes all and gives all.

Time stays, we go.

Nature is one great big wood-chipper. Sooner or later, everything shoots out the other end in a spray of blood, bones and hair.

Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.

Death is the king of this world: 'Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet.

Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.

The top of a pinnacle now, firewood soon

Death is just a part of life, you know? It's what makes all of life more vibrant. It's coming whether we want to accept it or not.

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.

This life of ours...human life is like a flower gloriously blooming in a meadow: along comes a goat, eats it up---no more flower.

In my limited realm of experience, beginnings led to endings.

Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.

All human beings are like travelers floating down the eternal river of time, embarking at a certain point and disembarking again at another point in order to make room for others waiting below the river to come aboard.

Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.

How fugitive and brief is mortal life between the budding and the falling leaf.

We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.

As leaves on the trees, such is the life of man.

You know this moment in time Is all my life Every day is each day that's passed Every person alive is everyone's who's died

Insignificant mortals, who are as leaves are, and now flourish and grow warm with life, and feed on what the ground gives, but then again fade away and are dead.