Quotes About Passing

In seasons of pestilence, some of us will have a secret attraction to the disease—a terrible passing inclination to die of it. And all of us have like wonders hidden in our breasts, only needing circumstances to evoke them.

They passed very quietly along the yard; for no one was there, though many heads were stealthily peeping from the windows.

30Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.

We are not strong enough to stand up against endless grief, And yet pain is the constant drone of life. So if we are to have any happiness at all, it is only in the passing instant.

Life winks as it passes me by and is gone before my own blink of eye.

February is merely as long as is needed to pass the time until March.

Remember friends as you pass by, As you are now so once was I. As low as I you once must be, Prepare yourself and follow me.

Passons passons puisque tout passe Je me retournerai souvent Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent.

Passent les jours et passent les semaines Ni temps passé Ni les amours reviennent

He said that if you pass the ball well, you receive it well and have good control; then you have far more possibilities.

Discover constantly where the free man is and through passing, passing, passing, work the ball into forward positions.' The high technical quality of Barcelona's players enabled them to make passes that other teams simply could not even attempt; Xavi, Iniesta, Messi could receive the ball and pass or move out of the tightest of corners.

the ball goes to the other central defender and this one makes a vertical pass – not to the midfielders, who have their back turned to the ball, but to those moving between lines, Andrés Iniesta or Lionel Messi, or even directly to the striker. Then they play the second ball with short lay-offs, either to the wingers who have cut inside or the midfielders, who now have the game in front of them.

Non per molto! Non sarei stato più lo zimbello di un goffo Fato, privo di scopo, che non sapeva nemmeno fare il suo disgustoso lavoro... che mi innalzava in cielo solo per precipitarmi nel sudicio stagno puzzolente dello scoraggiamento, e intanto suonava la sua stupida canzone che conoscevo benissimo... che tutti i bambini conoscevano... tutti i cani randagi perfino... che nulla dura sulla terra... che tutto passa... tutto...

And sometimes, when the bell rang for call-over, he would go to the window and look across the road and over the School fence and see, in the distance, the thin line of boys filing past the bench. New times, new names . . . but the old ones still remained . . . Jefferson, Jennings, Jolyon, Jupp, Kingsley Primus, Kingsley Secundus, Kingsley Tertius, Kingston . . . where are you all, where have you all gone to?

What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones that passed it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.

Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough. Sing about the long deep sleep Of lovers that are dead, and how In the grave all love shall sleep: Love is aweary now.

Forms passed this way and that through the dull light. And that was life.

Always passing, the stream of life, which in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all.

Visas miestas išmiršta, ir ištisas gimsta, irgi išmiršta: vieni ateina, kiti išeina. Namai, nam? gretos, mylios šaligatvi?, kr?vos plyt?, akmenys. Iš rank? ? rankas. Vienas savininkas, kitas. Sakoma, nam? šeimininkas niekad nemiršta. Kai vienam pranešama, kad laikas išvykti, jo vieton stoja kitas. Jie perka namus už auks?, ir visas auksas vis vien j?. Kažkur ?ia slypi apgaul?. <...> Visi yra niekas.

He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said. — The best death, Mr Bloom said. Their wide open eyes looked at him. — No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.

Mortality is not kind, and do not let anyone tell you it is. If there is such a thing as wisdom, and I have serious doubts about its presence in my own life, it lies in the acceptance of the human condition and perhaps the knowledge that those who have passed on are still with us, out there in the mist, showing us the way, sometimes uttering a word of caution from the shadows, sometimes visiting us in our sleep, as bright as a candle burning inside a basement that has no windows.

The great joke is that any wisdom most of us acquire can seldom be passed on to others. I suspect this reality is at the heart of most old people's anger.

Death, like virtue, has its degrees.

leg and a shoe as he passed the