Best 263 quotes in «carpe diem quotes» category

I listened to time clicking like hooves on pavement. But time isn't something you can rein in. It moves on without pause, taking us with it no matter how much we wish it otherwise.

I love him, and one day I’ll bury him, and until then, I’m going to be grateful that I’m allowed to watch him talk.

It is well-known what an orphan's life is: although he is little and has not yet a man's wisdom, he will follow every trail, try every task.

Isaac basically knew just one thing for sure: Many are born, few flourish, all die. If you didn’t die as a sacrifice for God today, you would die of an incomprehensible plague tomorrow, or of undeserved starvation the day after, or of good old-fashioned senseless human slaughter before the next harvest. Life was short in those days and people were grateful for whatever they could get. They didn’t expect wireless video game consoles, fast German cars, dental insurance, anti-depressants, and a pension.

I think we seldom regret the risks we take as much as the times we did not try at all.

It's a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you're ready. I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything. There's almost no such thing as ready. There's only now. And you may as well do it now. I mean, I say that confidently as if I'm about to go bungee jumping or something--I'm not. I'm not a crazed risk taker. But I do think that, generally speaking, now is as good a time as any.

It's All About The Ride

It’s not possible to live twenty-four hours a day soaked in the immediate awareness of one’s sex. Gendered self-consciousness has, mercifully, a flickering nature.

It’s not that we have to quit this life one day, but it’s how many things we have to quit all at once: music, laughter, the physics of falling leaves, automobiles, holding hands, the scent of rain, the concept of subway trains... if only one could leave this life slowly!

It was the happiest moment of my life, though I didn't know it. Had I known, had I cherished this gift, would everything have turned out differently?

It was a very ordinary day, the day I realised that my becoming is my life and my home and that I don't have to do anything but trust the process, trust my story and enjoy the journey. It doesn't really matter who I've become by the finish line, the important things are the changes from this morning to when I fall asleep again, and how they happened, and who they happened with. An hour watching the stars, a coffee in the morning with someone beautiful, intelligent conversations at 5am while sharing the last cigarette. Taking trains to nowhere, walking hand in hand through foreign cities with someone you love. Oceans and poetry. It was all very ordinary until my identity appeared, until my body and mind became one being. The day I saw the flowers and learned how to turn my daily struggles into the most extraordinary moments. Moments worth writing about. For so long I let my life slip through my fingers, like water. I'm holding on to it now, and I'm not letting go.

Just breathe," my mom would say, "Ten tiny breaths... Seize them. Feel them. Love them.

I was sitting, starring into the sky with a tear in my eye thinking: what a beautiful world that the MAKER has allowed us to enjoy for a moment - not to destroy - to enjoy. So let us remove the strife, seize the moments we are blessed with and love this life.

Jenny and I once talked about how we manage to live despite the knowledge that we are all going to die. What's the point of it all? Why bother getting up in the morning when faced with such futility? Or is it the promise of death that inspires life? That we must grab what we can while there's still time? Is it the not knowing if today is the day that keeps us going? But what if this is the day? What if the hour is here? How do you stand? How do you breathe? How do you go on?

Kopar goncaları henüz vakit varken bugün Anlamazsın zaman nasıl kanatlanır, uçar gider O gonca sana gülücükler saçarken bugün Gelince yarın, sararır solar, boynunu büker.

Let us eat, drink, and love for tomorrow we die, would be in fact the language of reason, the morality of life; and who but a fool would part with a reality for a fleeting shadow?

Let's burn our masks at midnight and as flickering flames ascend, under the witness of star-clouds, let us vow to reclaim our true selves. Done with hiding and weary of lying, we'll reconcile without and within. Then, like naked squint-eyed newborns, we'll greet the glorious birth of dawn; blinking at the blazing, wondrous colors we somehow failed to notice before.

Let's just enjoy what we have now and worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.

No dejes para mañana la diversión que puedes tener hoy.

Life is too short to follow the speed limit

Live each day as if it's your last', that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energy for that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn't practical. Better by far to simply try and be good and courageous and bold and to make a difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Go out there with your passion and your electric typewriter and work hard at...something. Change lives through art maybe. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved, if you ever get the chance.

Live everyday as if it's your last, boys, and one day in the future when you look back, you'll have lived ten thousand lifetimes.

Looking back on my life, I sigh. The caprice of youth goes with the wind, I’ve no regrets.

No day but today.

Life is scary, but I think it's supposed to be. If you're living it right, that is.

Little Fly Thy summers play, My thoughtless hand Has brush'd away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance And drink & sing: Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength & breath: And the want Of thought is death; Then am I A happy fly, If I live, Or if I die

Live, laugh, love for tomorrow in another day.

Millions of people have lived on the earth, and we don’t know even their names. Accept that simple fact—you are here for only a few days and then you will be gone. These few days are not to be wasted in hypocrisy, in fear. These days have to be rejoiced.

Morrerei por excesso de vida jorrando vivências pelos ares.

My expectations were reduced to zero when I was 21. Everything since then has been a bonus." [The Science of Second-Guessing (New York Times Magazine Interview, December 12, 2004)]

Nostalgia" How often we use this word reminiscing about the past - our childhood, school days, college days.. We feel nostalgic, we dwell in the memories of the past, we talk about how great those days were and how we would do anything to just go back in time and live those days again.. Perhaps we fail to realize the fact that tomorrow we will say the same things about today, about the days we are living in now, about the emotions we are feeling now, about the time we are spending now.. I love this day. I love this weird feeling I feel today. I belong here.

Not to waste the spring I threw down everything, And ran into the open world To sing what I could sing... To dance what I could dance! And join with everyone! I wandered with a reckless heart beneath the newborn sun. First stepping through the blushing dawn, I crossed beneath a garden bower, counting every hermit thrush, counting every hour. When morning's light was ripe at last, I stumbled on with reckless feet; and found two nymphs engaged in play, approaching them stirred no retreat. With naked skin, their weaving hands, in form akin to Calliope's maids, shook winter currents from their hair to weave within them vernal braids. I grabbed the first, who seemed the stronger by her soft and dewy leg, and swore blind eyes, Lest I find I, before Diana, a hunted stag. But the nymphs they laughed, and shook their heads. and begged I drop beseeching hands. For one was no goddess, the other no huntress, merely two girls at play in the early day. "Please come to us, with unblinded eyes, and raise your ready lips. We will wash your mouth with watery sighs, weave you springtime with our fingertips." So the nymphs they spoke, we kissed and laid, by noontime's hour, our love was made, Like braided chains of crocus stems, We lay entwined, I laid with them, Our breath, one glassy, tideless sea, Our bodies draping wearily. We slept, I slept so lucidly, with hopes to stay this memory. I woke in dusty afternoon, Alone, the nymphs had left too soon, I searched where perched upon my knees Heard only larks' songs in the trees. "Be you, the larks, my far-flung maids? With lilac feet and branchlike braids... Who sing sweet odes to my elation, in your larking exaltation!" With these, my clumsy, carefree words, The birds they stirred and flew away, "Be I, poor Actaeon," I cried, "Be dead… Before they, like Hippodamia, be gone astray!" Yet these words, too late, remained unheard, By lark, that parting, morning bird. I looked upon its parting flight, and smelled the coming of the night; desirous, I gazed upon its jaunt, as Leander gazes Hellespont. Now the hour was ripe and dark, sensuous memories of sunlight past, I stood alone in garden bowers and asked the value of my hours. Time was spent or time was tossed, Life was loved and life was lost. I kissed the flesh of tender girls, I heard the songs of vernal birds. I gazed upon the blushing light, aware of day before the night. So let me ask and hear a thought: Did I live the spring I’d sought? It's true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren't lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o'er crests of trees, to none belong; o'er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I'll say it once and true… From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.

Omnes feriunt, ultima necat.

People—especially men—don't always know what they want. You try, and if it doesn't work, then you may quit.” With a broken heart. As if she'd read her mind, Abuelita frowned and scolded, “Hearts mend, but lost chances are gone forever.

Qui cherche et ne saisit pas ce qui s'offre ne le reverra jamais plus.

Remember that your days on this earth are counted and you might as well make the best of those you have left.

See, my aim is not to survive but to be thrown to the wolfs with adrenaline still pumping in my veins and hear the gods laughing saying ”that was one hell of a youth” and everything I do I do in order to push my senses and levels of natural ecstasy. I want to be so awake that I pass out by exhaustion every night with a smile on my face and no thoughts of tomorrow because today was all I ever could make of it and I am sick and tired of boredom. Bored people slumbering boring words about bored habits and I want to get out.

Sólo importaba que era verano y que bailábamos sobre un cementerio. Que reclamábamos por primera vez nuestro derecho a no tomarnos la vida tan en serio. Porque cada día estamos más cerca de la muerte, esté donde esté guardando. Puede ser mañana o dentro de diez años... [...] Qué más da. Ahora lo sé. Hay que aprender a bailar sobre un cementerio. A hacer brotar flores sobre los muertos. A aceptar el fracaso porque el fracaso no existe. Sólo existe el fin de las cosas. No nos enseñan a aceptar la caducidad de lo importante. No nos enseñan que a veces el único fracaso es la inercia de hacerlas continuar. Y es que todo caduca, como me dijo Olivia, lo bueno y lo malo. El amor es sufrimiento. Pienso que una vida que termina no es un fracaso. Todo depende de cómo lo hayas vivido. Y si la mía termina de esta noche, tras este viaje, ya sería un éxito. La relación que termina no es un fracaso, depende de lo que nos haya portado, enriquecido, de lo que nos haya dejado tras su muerte. Si ha compensado, es un éxito. Hay que amar. Y amar bien. Intensamente. Aunque se acabe

Some are saving their right now for later, when tomorrow could be never.

Someday the Sun will explode, and what about our journalism and poetry then? Well, so what? To hell with our exploding Sun. We have to do what we can do in the time we can act.

Some people chase the idea of death so much they forget to do something as simple, yet profound, as live.

Stop waiting for the perfect day or the perfect moment... Take THIS day, THIS moment and lead it to perfection.

Oh mein Sohn, es wird auch berichtet, dass Luqman (der Weise) seinem Sohn riet: "Oh Sohn, du möchtest doch nicht, dass der Hahn gescheiter ist als du. Er kräht zur Morgendämmerung und du schläfst weiter.

Quiero vivir antes de morir. Es lo único que tiene sentido

Rest in Peace?’ Why that phrase? That’s the most ridiculous phrase I’ve ever heard! You die, and they say ‘Rest in Peace!’ …Why would one need to ‘rest’ when they’re dead?! I spent thousands of years of world history resting. While Agamemnon was leading his ships to Troy, I was resting. While Ovid was seducing women at the chariot races, I was resting. While Jeanne d’Arc was hallucinating, I was resting. I wait until airplanes are scuttling across the sky to burst out onto the scene, and I’m only going to be here for a short while, so when I die, I certainly won’t need to rest again! Not while more adventures of the same kind are going on.

Rich or poor it’s nice to have money

¿Sabes una cosa? Toda mi vida he tenido miedo a ser feliz por si acaso el cosmos me lo compensaba con una buena dosis de desgracia. Así que nunca he lanzado las campanas al vuelo por nada: ni por un sobresaliente, ni por una conquista, ni en un cumpleaños. Nunca me he permitido tener una explosión de felicidad total. Y ahora sé que la fatalidad llega sola. A mí también, que llevaba mucho tiempo contenida en una felicidad tibia: ser una buena mujer, tener tranquila a la familia, hacer todo aquello que se esperaba de mí en la creencia de que eso se mantendría salvo. Hacer lo que tú llamas "lo correcto". Pero el cosmos no te recompensa. Y ahora me pregunto por qué no he sido más espontánea y locamente feliz todas y cada una de las veces que tuve la oportunidad de serlo. Si yo fuera, tú disfrutaría de la alegría encontrar el amor ahora que lo tienes sin limitaciones.

So it's pretty simple. Go sing. Sing well or sing badly -it doesn't matter, as long as you sing your fucking heart out.

Some things in life are like ice cream: They’re only good for a while and then they melt. The trick is enjoying it and making the most of it while it’s still ice cream.

Take too much time, and time will take you.