Tom Stoppard Quotes

We have this time to meet and do something, or just be together, and then we lose it and move to another kind of time, another kind of being, I guess. Those left behind must mourn, remember, and live on as we know.

Death is an absolute marvel.

Time stays, we go.

God, life changes faster than you think.

Each day, we wake slightly altered, and the person we were yesterday is dead. So why, one could say, be afraid of death, when death comes all the time?

song of elli (old age) "What is plucked will grow again, What is slain lives on, What is stolen will remain What is gone is gone... What is sea-born dies on land, Soft is trod upon. What is given burns the hand - What is gone is gone... Here is there, and high is low; All may be undone. What is true, no two men know - What is gone is gone... Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love but what we lose - What is gone is gone.

There may be no single thing that can teach us more about life than death.

Neither our own passing nor the passing of an era is a tragedy, no matter how much we would like to think it is.

The things we now esteem fixed shall, one by one, detach themselves, like ripe fruit, from our experience, and fall. The wind shall blow them none knows whither.

We are swimming on the face of time and all else has drowned, is drowning, or will drown.

That is death - shifting from "is" to "was.

Dying doesn't end anything - it just changes where you are

Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!

Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change.

Time erases both the best and the worst of us.

Today will die tomorrow.

In the end, the wind takes everything, doesn't it? And why not? Why other? If the sweetness of our lives did not depart, there would be no sweetness at all.

What is the ultimate impulse to write? Because all this is going to vanish.

The damps of autumn sink into the leaves and prepare them for the necessity of their fall; and thus insensibly are we, as years close around us, detached from our tenacity of life by the gentle pressure of recorded sorrow.

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.

The waves of time wash us all clean.