Thomas Mann Quotes

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

Memories are like stones, time and distance erode them like acid.

Our affections as well as our bodies are in perpetual flux.

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

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.

Boredom, anger, sadness, or fear are not 'yours,' not personal. They are conditions of the human mind. They come and go. Nothing that comes and goes is you.

You can't halt time.

Time flies and draws us with it. The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me.

Time is like a river made up of the events which happen, and a violent stream; for as soon as a thing has been seen, it is carried away, and another comes in its place, and this will be carried away too.

Time erodes gratitude more quickly than it does beauty!

The human heart is not unchanging (nay, changes almost out of recognition in the twinkling of an eye).

Happiness is such a fleeting point of view - there's no such thing as continual happiness.

Time jumps. It leaps. It pours away like water through fingers.

... it occurred to me that never again would he be seven years, one month and six days old, so we had better catch these moments while we can.

Don't keep saying, "I don't know where the time goes." It goes the same place it's always gone and no one has ever known where that is.

Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death.

Time marches on and sooner or later you realize it is marching across your face.

Like waves, our feelings may continue by repeating themselves, by intermittent rushes; but no emotion any more than a wave can long retain its own individual form.

So of course time is necessary. But nevertheless damn painful, for it transforms all the pieces of your life - joy and sorrow, youth and age, love and hate, terror and bliss - from fire into smoke rising up the air and dissipating on a breeze.

We're all united in this, that every human being migrates through time, that the place we grew up in in our childhood is gone when we're in our 50s and 60s and 70s.

No emotion is the final one.

I had got this far, and was thinking of what to say next, and as my habit is, I was pricking the paper idly with my pen. And I thought how, between one dip of the pen and the next, time goes on, and I hurry, drive myself, and speed toward death. We are always dying. I while I write, you while you read, and others while they listen or stop their ears, they are all dying.