Henry Rollins Quotes

Mortalhood is a fine state to visit, but you'd better not call it home.

One should not believe too strongly in a life which can easily vanish.

Life is a bubble in a lake, that glitters for an instant, bursts, and leaves not even a blur on the water; it is the leap of a minnow, which sends a tiny ripple trembling for a few inches.

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

But nothing is solid and permanent. Our lives are raised on the shakiest foundations. You don't need to read history books to know that. You only have to know the history of your own life.

This planet Earth, the act of putting a roof over our heads, our flesh and blood existence, it's all very temporary.

Dreams are real as long as they last. Can we say more of life?

When we exist, death is not yet present, and when death is present, then we do not exist.

Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.

Immortality is like trying to carve your initials in a block of ice in the middle of July.

Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

Life has a very simple plot: first you're here and then you're not.

Certainly people have a lot tougher situations than I've had to deal with. But I will say we are all dying from the moment we are born. This is not just rehearsal.

There is nothing certain in a man's life but that he must lose it.

The thing is to appreciate the fragile wonder of it all, down to the last breath, down to the dying embers of consciousness.

What is this world? A mere curl of smoke for the wind to scatter.

Dreams are, by definition, cursed with short life spans.

A human being is only breath and shadow.

What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough; for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.

Life is anything that dies when you stomp on it.

We come. We go. And in between we try to understand.

Life is but a moment, death also is but another.