Max Lucado Quotes

Time sneaks up on you like a windshield on a bug.

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

Time hurries by, we're here and gone.

All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.

We have been conditioned to see the passing of time as an adversary.

Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever.

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

It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and passed from our sight.

Faith, sir, we are here today, and gone tomorrow.

What ever truth drops on it eventually grinds to a powder.

Webs are made mostly of spaces. They break easily. They barely exist. They belong to the category of half-things: mist, smoke, shrouds, ghosts, membranes, retinas or rags; and they quickly fill up with un-things: old legs and wings and heads and hollow abdomens and body bags of wasps.

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

We're just a bubble in a boiling pot.

I see that all of us who live are nothing but images or insubstantial shadow.

Everything is temporary. Everything is bound to end.

Everything that has a beginning comes to an end.

How quickly passes away the glory of this world.

All things are only transitory.

I like things that are just about to go. Everything's leaving. Death is never far away from me. When you make something, death can't help but be in it.

Our lives feel like these epochs, but really, we are dust in the wind.

Age carries all things away, even the mind.

If one considered life as a simple loan, one would perhaps be less exacting. We possess actually nothing; everything goes through us.

We're here for such a short period of time.

I see life as a burning meteorite that you can climb all over, and feed off, as it is falling to earth.

Time destroys everything.