Quotes About Cycle

Like man in the abstract, he is here to-day and gone to-morrow—but, very unlike man indeed, he is here again the next day.

Life is a series of little deaths out of which life always returns.

It takes three springs to make one leap year.

Look at the bright side — at least Mondays only happen once a week.

Amœbas at the start Were not complex; They tore themselves apart, And started Sex. And Sex has thrilled the earth From then to this, Producing grief and mirth And pain and bliss. Through Sex the seedling wakes To cleave the ground; 'Tis really Sex that makes The world go round...

the vibrant green-yellow-pink blossom-life of spring the watery-blue radiant sunshine-breath of summer the metallic-earth-toned glowing-decay of autumn the grey-white holly-festive slow-motion of winter

autumn strolls, winter slithers spring skips, summer swims

summer leads into autumn autumn leafs into winter winter leans into spring spring leaps into summer

If spring betrays summer, would autumn never arrive?

Seasons depart peripherally.

September is more than a month, really; it is a season, an achievement in itself. It begins with August's leftovers and it ends with October's preparations...

I want to end my life like a human being: in Intensive Care, high on morphine, surrounded by cripplingly expensive doctors and brutal, relentless life-support machines. Then the corpse can go into orbit—preferably around the sun. I don't care how much it costs, just so long as I don't end up party of any fucking natural cycle: carbon, phosphorus, nitrogen. Gaia, I divorce thee. Go suck the nutrients out of someone else, you grasping bitch.

Crisis management, he'd learned, generally balanced on getting others to focus on a different crisis, one of his choosing. Bait and switch, sleight of hand, a gentle tap to send the news cycle into a different spin.

Feather to fire,fire to blood Blood to bone,bone to marrow Marrow to ashes,ashes to snow

Leaves are verbs that conjugate the seasons.

Mortals don't understand life is not a book you close only after you read the last page. There is no last page in the Book of Life, for the last one is always the first page of another story.

Night is real. Night is not an absence of light, but in fact, it is daytime that is a brief respite from the looming darkness…

El fin no es más que el principio." Hasta

Nothing essential happens through death, only through birth and that is the whole trouble - But shouldn't we be speaking of something more important than life and death?

To pass in pursuit of an ideal from the barbarous to the civilised state, and then, when this ideal has lost its virtue, to decline and die, such is the cycle of the life of a people.

Lo que ha sido no tiene razón de ser nuevamente y no será.

The birds suffer their suffering each in a lifetime, forgetting it as they go.

breathing, sleeping, drinking, eating, working, dreaming, everything we do is dying. to live, in fact, is to die.

Elveszett a jöv?… Furcsa, mi? Ilyenkor fellázad a hús, de most nem fog… már az se lesz… Ez így fog rohadni szépen, fokozatosan, amíg nem születnek ifjak, és újrakezdik a forradalmat, ugyanolyan felemásan, hülyén, elvakultan, átgondolatlanul, félszegen, és majd belemennek a kompromisszumokba, mi mást is tehetnének… és megy tovább a tinglitangli…