Marcus Aurelius Quotes

Time itself flows on with constant motion, just like a river: for no more than a river can the fleeting hour stand still. As wave is driven on by wave, and, itself pursued, pursues the one before, so the moments of time at once flee and follow, and are ever new.

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

All human beings are like travelers floating down the eternal river of time, embarking at a certain point and disembarking again at another point in order to make room for others waiting below the river to come aboard.

Day buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.

Time comes to us softly, slowly. It sits beside us for a while. Then, long before we are ready, it moves on.

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

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

Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.

Time itself comes in drops.

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?

In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.

You can't halt time.

Time is a kind of river, an irresistible flood sweeping up men and events and carrying them headlong, one after the other, to the great sea of being.

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

Time is the rider that breaks youth.

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

The river flowed from century to century, and human affairs play themselves out on its banks. Play themselves out to be forgotten the next day, while the river flows on.

Reflect often upon the rapidity with which all existing things, or things coming into existence, sweep past us and are carried away.

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.

alas! there is no casting anchor in the stream of time!

In the world we live in everything militates in favor of things that have not yet happened, of things that will never happen again.