Kelly Cutrone Quotes

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

Names come and names go.

Time will pass and seasons will come and go.

If youth is a defect, it is one we outgrow too soon.

There's a harsh reality - nothing lasts forever. You have to be ready to grow, and grow fast.

Change is the very fabric of our time.

Time is the rider that breaks youth.

Time is the subtle thief of youth.

There are no moments you have frozen in amber. It's moving, it's changing, so appreciate what's good about right now and be ready for what's next.

Try to hold on to youth and it mocks you while it sprints away.

But times do change and move continually.

Nothing endures except change; nothing is constant except death. Every heartbeat wounds us, and life would be an eternal bleeding to death, were it not for literature. It grants us what nature does not: a golden time that doesn't rust, a springtime that never wilts, cloudless happiness and eternal youth. [my translation]

This was what it meant to be human, to know that time moved and all things changed.

Nobody stays in the world that you've seen them in before.

O Time! Time! how it brings forth and devours! And the roaring flood of existence rushes on forever similar, forever changing!

From the very nature of progress, all ages must be transitional. If they were not, the world would be at a stand-still and death would speedily ensue. It is one of the tamest of platitudes but it is always introduced by a flourish of trumpets.

You can't be young always. The day will come when everything will fall apart.

The waves of time wash us all clean.

Things couldn't stay the same forever.

I do not portray the thing in itself. I portray the passage; not a passing from one age to another, or, as the people put it, from seven years to seven years, but from day to day, from minute to minute.

But the world moves on, even when you don’t want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops. That’s harsh and magical and somewhat comforting because nothing is immutable, however much we want it to be. Moments cannot be caught like fossils in amber, ever- perfect,ever-beautiful. They go dark and raw, full of shadows, leaving you with the memories. And the world moves on.

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.

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.