Robin Sharma Quotes

Time flies never to be recalled.

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?

But meanwhile time flies; it flies never to be regained.

Can't bring back time. Like holding water in your hand.

The last moments slipped by, one by one, irretrievable.

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

Time, you old gypsy man, will you not stay, put up your caravan just for one day?

But when to-morrow comes, yesterday's morrow will have been already spent: and lo! a fresh morrow will be for ever making away with our years, each just beyond our grasp.

Neither can the wave that has passed by be recalled, nor the hour which has passed return again.

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

Time itself comes in drops.

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

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

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

The hours pass and the days and the months and the years, and the past time never returns.

The sands of time are quicksands ... so much can sink into them without a trace.

She wondered if all the firsts in her life would go by so quickly, and be forgotten just as quickly.

Time wastes too fast : every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen ; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more -- every thing presses on -- whilst thou are twisting that lock, -- see! it grows grey ; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make!

What came is gone forever every time

Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time.

Do you see the Field of Mars, where I walked next to my bride in her white wedding dress, with red sandals in her hands, when we were kids?” “I see it well.” “We spent all our days afraid it was too good to be true, Tatiana,” said Alexander. “We were always afraid all we had was a borrowed five minutes from now.” Her hands went on his face. “That’s all any of us ever has, my love,” she said. “And it all flies by.” “Yes,” he said, looking at her, at the desert, covered coral and yellow with golden eye and globe mallow. “But what a five minutes it’s been.

We can never catch up with life ... we shall always be eating the soft part of our melting ice and meanwhile the nice hard part is rapidly melting too.