William Dunbar Quotes

It is a common saying, and in everybody's mouth, that life is but a sojourn.

I have now reigned above fifty years in victory or peace; beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honors, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation, I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to Fourteen: - O man! place not thy confidence in this present world.

Bubbles are always new; you just can't find an old bubble.

Death is but an instant, life a long torment.

I feel sorry for confetti. Its useful life lasts about two seconds. And it can never be used again.

It's just a temporary thing.

This poor world, the object of so much insane attachment, we are about to leave; it is but misery, vanity, and folly; a phantom--the very fashion of which "passeth away.

That’s what death did, it treated you like a child, like everything you had ever thought and done and cared about was just a child’s game, to be crumpled up and thrown away when it was over. It didn’t matter. Death didn’t respect you. Death thought you were bullshit, and it wanted to make sure you knew it.

None thrives for long upon the happiest dream.

Nothing is more short-lived than pride.

A short death is the sovereign good hap of human life.

Oh, Vanity of vanities! How wayward the decrees of Fate are; How very weak the very wise, How very small the very great are!

The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews Not to be born is the best for man The second best is a formal order The dance's pattern, dance while you can. Dance, dance, for the figure is easy The tune is catching and will not stop Dance till the stars come down from the rafters Dance, dance, dance till you drop.

Everything mortal has moments immortal

For this I see, that we, all we that live, Are but vain shadows, unsubstantial dreams.

When we are dead; rugs are no richer than a quick-thorn bed.

This body is a tent which for a space Does the pure soul with kingly presence grace; When he departs, comes the tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes it, and moves to a new halting-place.

Turns out it was mostly a lie. But, at least for a short while, it was a beautiful one.

All pleasure in the world is a passing dream.

Time quickly puts an end to artificial and accidental fame

But life is just a party, and parties weren't meant to last.

A man, when he burns, leaves only a handful of ashes. No woman can hold him. The wind must blow him away.