Pete Docter Quotes

Time, you old gypsy man, will you not stay, put up your caravan just for one day?

Don't think about what you've left behind. If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil. And one can always come back. If what you had found was only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you would find nothing on your return.

Not to hope for things to last forever, is what the year teaches and even the hour which snatches a nice day away.

as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.

I would have stayed forever within the garden of Re-mose's childhood, but time is a mother's enemy.

The shimmering night does not stay for mortals, not misfortunes, nor wealth, but in a moment it is gone, and to the turn of another comes joy and loss.

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live.

I think childhood is to everyone a lost land.

The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

Sometimes you think things are going to be forever, and then... of course, they're not.

The worldly stuff is not always going to be there and it could be taken away at any moment.

Somewhere beyond the sink-hole, past the magnolia, under the live oaks, a boy and a yearling ran side by side, and were gone forever.

Everything changes. The more I try to hold on to the moment, the more it slips through my fingers.

The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.

I didn't realize it, but the days came along one after another, and then two years were gone, and everything was gone, and I was gone.

Things pass us by. Nobody can catch them. That's the way we live our lives.

And her life will perhaps be the richer, for holding now within it the memory of what came, but could not stay.

How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace. Was it the end of a season, the end of a life? Was it so long ago it seems it might never have been? What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs for the past? (from "No Words Can Describe It")

If I hadn't learned my lesson, I would have wished we could stay there forever. But I knew better now. We'd seen what we'd come to see. The way to trick death. Breathe in. Breathe out. Watch as it all rises upwards, black and blue into the even bluer sky.

We write our names in the sand: and then the waves roll in and wash them away.

Was life nothing more than a storm that constantly washed away what had been there only a moment before, and left behind something barren and unrecognizable?

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.