Quotes About Passage

The grave is but a covered bridge Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!

The long mysterious Exodus of death.

Time, as we all know, passes. Whether it returns in quite the same way is doubtful.

Jesus Christ is not my security against the storms of life, but He is my perfect security in the storms. He has never promised me an easy passage, only a safe landing.

The line between life and death is a couple of inches at most. The width of a door that connects two rooms.

The most accomplished literary work would be reduced to nothing by carping criticism, if the author would listen to all critics and allow every one to erase the passage which pleases him the least.

Love with writing began from school days itself and with passage of time my bond with it went on becoming stronger.

The problem for me, still today, is that I write purely with one dramatic structure and that is the rite of passage. I'm not really skilled in any other. Rock and roll itself can be described as music to accompany the rite of passage.

Meanwhile I am only twenty years old, and the days descend on me un-noticeably like dust, each one just like the rest.

Being young is itself temporary, fragile, and ephemeral. You have to get through it - it has no other meaning.

For every exit, there is also an entrance.

Remember, children. For every exit, there is also an entrance. ~ Milligan, The Mysterious Benedict Society

Hollom was going forward along the larboard gangway: Nagel, an able seamen but one of the most sullen, bloody-minded and argumentative of the Defenders, was coming aft on the same narrow passage. They were abreast of one another; and Nagel walked straight on without the slightest acknowledgement other than a look of elaborate unconcern.

just ten steps from one country to the other, a door in the wall

Death is not the end. It is a midway state.

It's not so much that time heals all wounds, as it is the passage of the years that lets us make peace with our grief in our own way.

this passage and escaped via the cafeteria or

Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.

no man's death can ever give safe passage to any other man's life. At

Kinsella says a few meaningless things along the way then falls into the quiet way he has about him, and time passes without seeming to pass

A certain amount of time is allotted to each of us. How much, only God knows. We cannot invest it. We cannot hope for a return of any kind. All we can do is spend it, second by second, decade by decade, until it runs out.

How slow the shadow creeps: but when 'tis pastHow fast the shadows fall. How fast! How fast!

Petrarch writes, "between one dip of the pen and the next, the time passes: and I hurry, I drive myself, and I speed toward death. We are always dying—I while I write, you while you read, and others while they listen or block their ears; they are all dying.

Love is a religion, and its rituals cost more than those of other religions. It goes by quickly and, like a street urchin, it likes to mark its passage by a trail of devastation.