Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield Quotes

The brief span of our poor unhappy life to its final hour Is hastening on; and while we drink and call for gay wreaths, Perfumes, and young girls, old age creeps upon us, unperceived.

Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen's eye.

But when to-morrow comes, yesterday's morrow will have been already spent: and lo! a fresh morrow will be for ever making away with our years, each just beyond our grasp.

Youth passes like a dream.

How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.

The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

Time, you old gypsy man, will you not stay, put up your caravan just for one day?

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.

Oh, the years fly by, that's just natural.

Time slips through our hands like grains of sand, never to return again.

Half a page--and the morning is already ancient.

Years have passed and how I am anxiously watching the twilight of my childhood, quietly sinking, never to rise again.

When the playing is over, one can sense that one's youth has been spent playing a game, and now both the game and youth are gone.

Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation's short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.

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

A memory from my youth comes back to me. You go into the woods on a bike, with a girl. There is the smell of heather, you can hear the wind in the fir trees, you don't dare tell her about your love, but you feel happy, as if you were floating above the ground. Then you look at the clouds beyond the trees and they are fleeting. And you know that within an hour you'll have to go home, that tomorrow will be a working day. You wish you could stop that moment forever, but you can't, it is bound to end. So you take a photo, as if to challenge time.

I'm getting old, that's the thing! What's in me now won't be there anymore.

See, when you're a little kid, nobody ever warns you that you've got an expiration date. One day you're hot stuff and the next day you're a dirt sandwich.

We tried not to age, but time had its rage.

We tried not to age, but time had its rage.

Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.

The clock never stops, never stops, never waits. We're growing old. It's getting late.