Quotes
Quotes about Years
It is nothing new or original to say that golf is played one stroke at a time. But it took me many years to realize it.
Now spring returns; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health have flown.
For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow-storms and rain-storms and did my duty faithfully.
Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust; A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe?
O Granta! sweet Granta! where studious of ease, I slumbered seven years, and then lost by degrees.
Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death.
O God! methinks it were a happy life To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes, how they run-- How many makes the hour full complete, How many hours brings about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live; When this is known, then to divide the times-- So many hours must I tend my flock, So many hours must I take my rest, So many hours must I contemplate, So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young, So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean, So many months ere I shall shear the fleece. So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Passed over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
The dying swan, when years her temples pierce, In music-strains breathes out her life and verse, And, chanting her own dirge, tides on her wat'ry hearse.
(Cornwall:) Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man? (Kent:) A tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have made him ill, though they had been but two years o' th' trade.
We look through gloom and storm-drift Beyond the years: The soul would have no rainbow Hard the eyes no tears.
A woman's always younger than a man of equal years.
I think and think for months and years. Ninety-nine times, the conclusion is false. The hundredth time I am right.
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears, Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years.
Six years--six little years--six drops of time.
Backward, flow backward, O full tide of years! I am so weary of toil and of tears, Toil without recompense--tears all in vain, Take them and give me my childhood again. I have grown weary of dust and decay, Weary of sowing for others to reap; Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.
Why slander we the times? What crimes Have days and years, that we Thus charge them with iniquity? If we would rightly scan, It's not the times are bad, but man.
For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.
For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our years as a tale that is told.
The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo; And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp, Or like a cunning instrument cased up Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again: Th' eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes in pain, And dies among his worshippers.
I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears Decrease not, but grow faster than the years; And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth, That I should open to the list'ning air How many worthy princes' bloods were shed To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms And make pretense of wrong that I have done him; When all, for mine, if I may call offense, Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence; Which love to all, of which thyself art one, Who now reproved'st me for't--
The new constitution established a president with powers unheard of in the republican United States. Some even wanted him to be king, a thought that GW found ludicrous: What astonishing changes a few years are capable of producing! I am told that even respectable characters speak of a monarchical form of government without horror. From thinking proceeds speaking, thence to acting is often but a single step. But how irrevocable and tremendous! What a triumph for the advocates of despotism to find that we are incapable of governing ourselves, and that systems founded on the basis of equal liberty are merely ideal & fallacious!
"Vanitas vanitatum" has rung in the ears Of gentle and simple for thousands of years; The wail still is heard, yet its notes never scare Either simple or gentle from Vanity Fair.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand; I saw from out the wave of her structure's rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble pines, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
Violet! sweet violet! Thine eyes are full of tears; Are they wet Even yet With the thought of other years?
