Steven Hall Quotes

The Human Condition being, basically, that we’re alive and have access to beauty, can even erratically create it, but will someday be dead and will not.

We like to think of life as a constant ... Yet it can be ended in a heartbeat.

Man is like the foam of the sea, that floats upon the surface of the water. When the wind blows, it vanishes, as if it had never been. Thus are our lives blown away by Death.

If man were never to fade away ... but lingered on forever in the world, how things would lose their power to move us. The most precious thing in life is its uncertainty.

Life is short. It can come and go like a feather in the wind.

Our lives fade behind us before we die.

I had got this far, and was thinking of what to say next, and as my habit is, I was pricking the paper idly with my pen. And I thought how, between one dip of the pen and the next, time goes on, and I hurry, drive myself, and speed toward death. We are always dying. I while I write, you while you read, and others while they listen or stop their ears, they are all dying.

Out of the people that ever were, almost all of them are dead. There are way more dead people, and you're all gonna die and then you're gonna be dead for way longer than you're alive. Like that's mostly what you're ever gonna be. You're just dead people that didn't die yet.

No one loses any other life than the one he now lives, nor does one live any other life than that which he will lose.

Life was precious. Life was fragile. Here one moment, gone the next. Every second should be milked for all it's worth because you never know when the bottom was going to drop out.

Some men spend their whole life furnishing for themselves the things proper to life without realizing that at our birth each of us was poured a mortal brew to drink.

Life is short and we have scarcely begun to live when we are called to die.

The greatest surprise in life to me is the brevity of life.

Life's a short trip. You'll find out.

I'm always aware of mortality.

Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.

We’re beings toward death, we’re … two-legged, linguistically-conscious creatures born between urine and feces whose body will one day be the culinary delight of terrestrial worms.

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.

Our life's a moment and less than a moment, but even this mite nature has mockingly humored with some appearance of a longer span.

Certainly people have a lot tougher situations than I've had to deal with. But I will say we are all dying from the moment we are born. This is not just rehearsal.

To himself everyone is immortal; he may know that he is going to die, but he can never know that he is dead.

Believe me, if a man doesn't know death, he doesn't know life.