Hugh Laurie Quotes

Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils.

History can just be so unkind as time passes.

Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last.

Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever . . .

Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

Thus my life is a flight and I lose everything and everything belongs to oblivion, or to him.

We write our names in the sand: and then the waves roll in and wash them away.

But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.

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.

They would grow old. They would forget me.

Uneasily the leaves fall at this season, forgetting what to do or where to go; the red amnesiacs of autumn drifting thru the graveyard forest. What they have forgotten they have forgotten: what they meant to do instead of fall is not in earth or time recoverable the fossils of intention, the shapes of rot.

little sun little moon little dog and a little to eat and a little to love and a little to live for in a little room filled with little mice who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep waiting for a little death in the middle of a little morning in a little city in a little state my little mother dead my little father dead in a little cemetery somewhere. I have only a little time to tell you this: watch out for little death when he comes running but like all the billions of little deaths it will finally mean nothing and everything: all your little tears burning like the dove, wasted.

Time bears away all things.

By the time I recognize this moment, this moment will be gone. . . But I will bend the light, pretend that it somehow lingered on

A rainbow which lasts for a quarter of an hour is looked at no longer.

Long life, and short, are by death made all one; for there is no long, nor short, to things that are no more.

When they're gone out of his head, these words, they'll be gone, everywhere, forever. As if they had never been.

Exhaust the little moment / Soon it dies.

All things fade and quickly turn to myth.

Our nemesis is time, against which we have a single ally, memory, and even it betrays us.

as they die, the ones we love, we lose our witnesses, our watchers, those who know and understand the tiny little meaningless patterns, those words drawn in water with a stick. And there is nothing left but the endless flow.

Can you imagine 4,000 years passing, and you're not even a memory? Think about it, friends. It's not just a possibility. It is a certainty.

Somehow, in the process of trying to deny that things are always changing, we lose our sense of the sacredness of life. We tend to forget that we are part of the natural scheme of things.