Quotes About Cycle

What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.

All things cyclical sustain hope. All things cyclical imply futility.

El amor es una flor que brota en las cuatro estaciones.

Time doesn't pass. That's just a human myth. Time's all round us, like some kind of jelly. It's just human life that passes.

Waves climbed the slope of the beach, fell back, and came again.

Each wave was the only wave.

He had noticed a tree stripped of its leaves. He realized that in a little while the leaves would return, and the flowers and fruit would appear.

Acceptance of death. — The round of summer and winter becomes a blessing the moment we give up the fantasy of eternal spring.

I can tell you for sure: people who are at their peak right now will not sustain that. You can't. It's against the law of nature.

The earth is our mother, it gives us nourishment, shelters us, and takes us back to her after we pass

Bryan Lee O'Malley has been alive since he was born and will lives until he dies.

Birth and death we all move between these two unknowns.

Life folded Death; Death trellised Life; the grim god wived with youthful Life, and begat him curly-headed glories. Now

Yet, as the ever-woven verdant warp and woof intermixed and hummed around him, the mighty idler seemed the cunning weaver; himself all woven over with the vines; every month assuming greener, fresher verdure; but himself a skeleton. Life folded Death; Death trellised Life; the grim god wived with youthful Life, and begat him curly-headed glories.

And so the universal thump is passed around

Gelgit çekilmesinde ölen adamlar vard?r, baz?lar? cezirde, diÄŸerleri ise med halinin zirvesinde ölürler. Kendimi köpüklere bat?r?lm??, çatlamak üzere olan dalga gibi hissediyorum...

The race of men is like the race of leaves. As one generation flourishes, another decays.

Men come and go as leaves year by year upon the trees. Those of autumn the wind sheds upon the ground, but when spring returns the forest buds forth with fresh vines. Even so is it with the generations of mankind, the new spring up as the old are passing away

The race of man is as the race of leaves: Of leaves, one generation by the wind Is scattered on the earth; another soon In spring's luxuriant verdure bursts to light.

High-hearted son of Tydeus, why ask about my birth? Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.

As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning. So one generation of men will grow while another 150  dies. Yet if you wish to learn all this and be certain of my genealogy: there are plenty of men who know it.

Generations of men are like the leaves. In winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, the budding wood grows more. And so with men: one generation grows, another dies away.

In the argot of the cycle world the Harley is a "hog," and the outlaw bike is a "chopped hog.

Admittedly, the ride can be pleasant if you don't mind the rhythmic repetition of a never-ending Maypole dance. If I came home now, I'd hit the merry-go-round at one of the annual, frenzied peaks. And, like so many others, I could forget the existence of anything but the ride: sleep-walking through the low spots, and always looking toward the next peak.