Ray Bradbury Quotes

The notion of time bothers me. You look at thirty-year-old photographs and realize how the time has passed.

Life is short. Time is short. As we get older, time does quicken. It's long, and it's long pertaining to that thought, that the past is not done with you because you can't rid of it.

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels. Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields.

Fifty years," I hackneyed, "is a long time." "Not when you're looking back at them," she said. "You wonder how they vanished so quickly.

Yes, time flies. And where did it leave you? Old too soon...smart too late.

So as the years draw on toward the Biblical limit, the inclination to look back, and to tell some sort of story of what one has seen, grows upon most of us.

When I think about it, 20 years really seems like a blink of an eye sometimes. I wish I would have made a more concerted effort to enjoy things along the way.

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

Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!

So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road.

Those words are from Lynda Barry's novel 'Cruddy.' I've carried them with me for some time. There's a lot in my life I wasn't expecting. One is the realization that I stood at this pulpit and delivered a reading for my own graduation...15 years ago. Unexpectedly, I'm old.

Every man who has lived for fifty years has buried a whole world or even two; he has grown used to its disappearance and accustomed to the new scenery of another act: but suddenly the names and faces of a time long dead appear more and more often on his way, calling up series of shades and pictures kept somewhere, "just in case," in the endless catacombs of the memory, making him smile or sigh, and sometimes almost weep.

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?

When I look back at the tapes, your first everything, your first All-Star Game, your first playoff experience, it just seems like it went by really fast.

When I'm 60, maybe, I'll look at my pile of papers and wonder, What really happened that year?

When I hear that I realize how quickly time passes and how everybody goes on their journeys and they're always unbelievable and they never go where you think they're going to take you and, quite frankly, it also makes me feel a little old.

I often think to myself, at the end of an interesting life it's maybe not such a bad thing to spend your last days with your friends sitting by the blue, blue ocean reliving the story of your life while sitting in the dangerous sun.

When you are old and gray and full of sleep, and nodding by the fire, take down this book and slowly read, and dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.

At 86, I can easily look back to the last eight decades. Though memory often fails me now, so many images of the past are still clearly polished, and I can yet recall not just an abiding sense of place, but the keen smells, the sensory responses to the events of that past.

We do not remember days, we remember moments.

Heavens, Mary, of course we'll laugh again. It's just that we'll never be young again.

I've gotten to travel all over the world and meet all kinds of people and do all kinds of great things, so it's, like, surreal. It just lets you know how time flies, especially when you're having fun. It seems like time keeps going by faster as I get older.

There is something to be said for being older - and memories.

When I was younger, 15 years or 20 years seemed like a really long time. But, as you journey though life, you don't realise where the years disappear.