Mark Twain Quotes

I really like boats. If you want to go somewhere, you just take your house with you.

I love sailing but hate cruise ships.

I am not a fan of being in the sea. I like being in a boat - sailing.

Everything is within walking distance, as long as you have time.

There is nothing new on earth / For a person who lives long and experiences much. / In my years of youthful wandering / I have seen crystallized people.

Idleness makes hours pass slowly and years swiftly. Activity makes the hours short and the years long.

Almost all human affairs are tedious. Everything is too long. Visits, dinners, concerts, plays, speeches, pleadings, essays, sermons, are too long. Pleasure and business labor equally under this defect, or, as I should rather say, this fatal super-abundance.

The boats outside the window were always still I wondered if one of them would take me to the ocean.

The West needs to relearn what the rest of the world has never forgotten - that there is nothing sinful in leisure as long as it does not degenerate into mere sloth.

I always wanted to write. While I was on a long surf trip, supporting myself with various day jobs, I was working hard on a novel. My third novel, in fact.

The avalanche of time sweeps everything before it. Every individual instant hurtles into oblivion, drowning out the obliteration of the instant immediately preceding it, and then it too disappears under the onslaught of the next and the next and the next. When the avalanche has shuddered past for a long enough time, the perception of the past evolves. Distant events grow beyond mere history and take on the weight of legend.

There is something miraculous in the way the years wash away your evidence, first you, then your friends and family, then the descendants who remember your face, until you aren’t even a memory, you’re only carbon, no greater than your atoms, and time will divide them as well.

A career of nearly 40 years, is not very long.

So when will be the time to get on the train? I think.....a little bit almost quite very soon and not long.

How long have I been here, what a question, I've often wondered. And often I could answer, An hour, a month, a year, a century, depending on what I meant by here, and me, and being, and there I never went looking for extravagant meanings, there I never much varied, only the here would sometimes seem to vary.

It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates. There is little distinct left without an effort of memory, then indeed the lights are rekindled for a moment - but who can be sure that the Imagination is not the torch-bearer?

I've had many years to consider what I would like to see about a particular place. I don't waste any time and I enjoy it.

What seems tragic now won't even be an issue in a few years time.

It is with men as with other things. The mullein needs only a year, but the oak a century, and the greatest men are those who have continued to grow as long as they have lived.

A year's a long time, but it also flickers past in no time at all.

How old are you?” “Seventeen,” he answered promptly. “And how long have you been seventeen?” His lips twitched as he stared at the road. “A while,” he admitted at last.

How slow and still the time did drag along.

And yet, now that years have passed, I recall it and wonder that it could distress me so much. It will be the same thing, too, with this trouble. Time will go by and I shall not mind about this either.

Range after range of mountains. Year after year after year. I am still in love.