Hugh Laurie Quotes

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

Night falls fast. Today is the past.

Days, pale slices between nights, they blend, not exactly alike, transparencies so lightly tinted that only stacked all together do they darken to a fatal shade.

Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.

Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!

Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not. Time takes it all, time bears it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.

Better a life like a falling star, brief bright across the dark, than the long, long waiting of the immortals, loveless and cheerlessly wise.

How slow the shadow creeps: but when 'tis past How fast the shadows fall. How fast! How fast!

Life isn't moving quickly - time moves very quickly.

Grave-stones tell truth scarce forty years. Generations pass while families last not three oaks.

Time wastes too fast : every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen ; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more -- every thing presses on -- whilst thou are twisting that lock, -- see! it grows grey ; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make!

That's what time does: We stand stubbornly like rocks while it flows all around us, believing that we are immutable - and all the time we're being carved, and shaped, and whittled away.

This autumn- why am I growing old? bird disappearing among clouds.

So passed the seasons then, so they pass now, and so they will pass in time to come, while we come and go like leaves of the tree that fall and are soon forgotten.

Life is full of temporary situations, ultimately ending in a permanent solution.

Brief and powerless is man's life; on him and all his race the slow, sure doom falls pitiless and dark.

Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

Yet you could feel a vibration in the air, a sense of hastening. It had started with the moon, inaccessible poem that it was. Now men had walked upon it, rubber treads on a pearl of the gods. Perhaps it was an awareness of time passing, the last summer of the decade. Sometimes I just wanted to raise my hands and stop. But stop what? Maybe just growing up.

The longest Day hath an Eueninge.

We say that life is sweet, its satisfactions deep. All this we say, as we sleepwalk our time through years of days and nights. We let time cascade over us like a waterfall, believing it to be never-ending. Yet each day that touches us, and every man in the world, is unique; irredeemable; over. And just another Monday.