Seneca the Younger Quotes

Like water spilt upon the ground--alas, Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass; Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass!

Life is short but it is wide. This too shall pass.

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

Time flies never to be recalled.

It is a common saying, and in everybody's mouth, that life is but a sojourn.

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

Years have passed and how I am anxiously watching the twilight of my childhood, quietly sinking, never to rise again.

This is life-and it is passing. What are we waiting for?

These happy golden years are passing by, these happy golden years.

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.

While the flowers, pale and unreal in the moonlight, floated away upon the river; and thus do greater things that once were in our breasts, and near our hearts, flow from us to the eternal sea.

Ah! what is human life? How, like the dial's tardy-moving shade, Day after day slides from us unperceiv'd! The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth; Too subtle is the movement to be seen; Yet soon the hour is up--and we are gone.

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

The years go by. The time, it does fly. Every single second is a moment in time that passes. And it seems like nothing - but when you're looking back ... well, it amounts to everything.

The short bloom of our brief and narrow life flies fast away. While we are calling for flowers and wine and women, old age is upon us.

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!

Nothing is swifter than our years.

To think that so much comes to so little, to think that life is really short.

While we are reasoning concerning life, life is gone.