Margaret Atwood Quotes

Time erases both the best and the worst of us.

What is a ruin but time easing itself of endurance?

It's pretty scary to know how quickly time flies.

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.

Like a wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerors and commoners alike. And all that we were, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment.

Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!

That's the trouble with living things. Don't last very long. Kittens one day, old cats the next. And then just memories. And the memories fade and blend and smudge together.

Time ... brings us everything we have and are, then comes with a back-loader and starts taking it all away.

You can't be young always. The day will come when everything will fall apart.

Time was rushing around me like water around a big wet rock. The only difference is, I was not so durable as stones. Very quickly I would be smoothed away.

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

In the sense that writing is to retrieve the past and stop the passing of time, all writing is about loss. It's not nostalgia in the sense of yearning to bring back the past, but recognition of the erosion of things as you live.

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?

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

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

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

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

It is useless to contend with the irresistible power of Time, which goes on continually creating by a process of constant destruction.

Time flies never to be recalled.

Swift speedy time, feathered with flying hours, Dissolves the beauty of the fairest brow.

Life holds one great but quite commonplace mystery. Though shared by each of us and known to all, seldom rates a second thought. That mystery, which most of us take for granted and never think twice about, is time.

Time marks us while we are marking time.

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

People don't slip. Time catches up with them.