Life Quotes

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These are quotes tagged with "life".

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He lives who dies to win a lasting name.

When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
What life means to us is determined, not so much by what life brings to us as by the attitude we bring to life; not so much by what happens to us as by our reaction to what happens.
We have penetrated far less deeply into the regularities obtaining within the realm of living things, but deeply enough nevertheless to sense at least the rule of fixed necessity... what is still lacking here is a grasp of the connections of profound generality, but not a knowledge of order itself.
Birth, copulation and death. That's all the facts when you come to the brass tacks.
It has always been difficult for Man to realize that his life is all an art. It has been more difficult to conceive it so than to act it so. For that is always how he has more or less acted it.
Like bees, they must put their lives into the sting they give.
Life too near paralyses art.
A free life cannot acquire many possessions, because this is not easy to do without servility to mobs or monarchs...
Life is a series of little deaths out of which life always returns.
I used to trouble about what life was for -- now being alive seems sufficient reason.
My kids idea of a hard life is to live in a house with only one phone.
Life -- No, I've nothing to teach you about it for the moment. May be writing about it another week.
Were it offered to my choice, I should have no objection to a repetition of the same life from its beginning, only asking the advantages authors have in a second edition to correct some faults in the first.
The old Quaker was right: I expect to pass through life but once. If there is any kindness, or any good thing I can do to my fellow beings, let me do it now. I shall pass this way but once.
Life is a petty thing unless it is moved by the indomitable urge to extend its boundaries. Only in proportion as we are desirous of living more do we really live.
Life is a series of collisions with the future; it is not the sum of what we have been, but what we yearn to be.
People creep into childhood, bound into youth, sober in adulthood, and soften into old age.
Life is supposed to get tough.
Life at the greatest and best is but a froward child, that must be humored and coaxed a little till it falls asleep, and then all the care is over.
There is only one way to come into this world; there are too many ways to leave it.
Life is made up of marble and mud.
The hardest years in life are those between ten and seventy.
So in all these little ways we spin a web, a cocoon, around ourselves. The cocoon becomes nice and snug and comfortable because it is very familiar. We know every little corner of our life; we can even write poetry about it. We may also have ideas about the great mystery which religions speak of, which gives our cocoon an especial sense of security: we can worship the great mystery outside of it and feel good about that. The cocoon is safe, bounded, claustrophobic, and a little stale. We settle into it and live our lives.
I can't be bitter. No one has a contract on life.
In soft regions are born soft men.
It is a good thing that life is not as serious as it seems to a waiter.
The person lives twice who lives the first life well.
Life is painting a picture, not doing a sum.
On the whole, I am on the side of the unregenerate who affirms the worth of life as an end in itself, as against the saints who deny it.
To live is to function. That is all there is in living.
It is not reason which is the guide of life, but custom.
Half my life is an act of revision.
We Japanese enjoy the small pleasures, not extravagance. I believe a man should have a simple lifestyle -- even if he can afford more.
Is life worth living? It all depends on the liver.
Always take hold of things by the smooth handle.
We are doomed to cling to a life even while we find it unendurable.
He that embarks on the voyage of life will always wish to advance rather by the impulse of the wind than the strokes of the oar; and many fold in their passage; while they lie waiting for the gale.
Be a life long or short, its completeness depends on what it was lived for.
Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come.