Robert Plant Quotes

Time. It hangs heavy for the bored, eludes the busy, flies by the for young, and runs out for the aged.

People always talk about how time flies; it's become sort of a colloquialism now. You don't really understand it until you reach your late 30s and early 40s - and I'm sure time will move even faster as I get older.

I can't believe I'm 29. Where did the years go? Why did the years go?

Life is long. But it goes fast.

With age, it really becomes thinking about how time has passed - that's sort of the root of age.

The great secret that all old people share is that you really haven't changed in seventy or eighty years. Your body changes, but you don't change at all. And that, of course, causes great confusion.

As you get older, time speeds up but life slows down.

To grow up requires a whole life but to become old one night is enough.

We aged a hundred years, and this happened in a single hour: the short summer had already died, the body of the ploughed plains smoked.

This day is not a sieve, losing time. With each passing minute, each passing year, there's this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity.

Entire years had passed when he was rich enough in time to disregard the loose change of a minute, but now he obsessed over each one, this minute, the next minute, the one following, all of which were different terms for the same illusion.

As I've gotten older and seen people around me evolving and moving on with life, I just have a stronger sense of my own mortality and time itself becomes more precious. I don't want to spend this precious and limited time on things that don't necessarily bring me happiness.

Once I lived in time as a fish in water, breathing it, drinking it, sustained by it. Now I kill time and time kills me.

Life seems to speed up as we get older because life gets less memorable as we get older.

Why is youth so short and age so long?

Age: I go slower as time goes faster.

Six years-six little years-six drops of time.

In books, day breaks, and night falls. In life, night rises from the ground. The day hangs on for as long as it can, bright and eager, absolutely and positively the last guest to leave the party, while the ground darkens, oozing night around your ankles, swallowing for ever that dropped contact lens, making you miss that low catch in the gully on the last ball of the last over.

But years hath done this wrong, To make me write too much, and live too long.

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.

It's proven that how time moves for you depends on where you are in the universe. It's relative to beings and other places. But on the level of being here on earth, if you are aware in a moment, one second can last a year. And if you are unaware, your whole childhood, your whole life can pass by in six seconds. But it’s also such a thing that you can get lost in.

Life used to move much more quickly when I was a girl. We needed to abbreviate just to keep up.

We talk about saving time and killing time when actually we can't do either. We have no choice but to spend it at a constant and flowing rate.

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.