Best 10290 quotes in «past quotes» category

There is no past and future for those who exist in the now. Live in the moment, today is the only reality.

There is no past, present, or future; there is only meow, right meow, and what you do with your one shot at life.

There is no point in living in the present if you can't let go of the past.

There is no past. Past is present when you carry it with you.

There is nothing to be found in the past if you only look there with regret.

There is no unstoppable force but time, no impenetrable object except that which separates us from the past.

There is perhaps only one thing to say to this infant, who is all future, overlapping briefly with me, whose life, barring the improbable, is all but past.

There is so much to say about a past. It's a vein of gold through a mountain, leading to an incontrovertible stone heart of truth. But the future is a horizon - a faintly visible line that will promise much, and always remain to far away to touch.

There is such a thing as emotional rubbish; it is produced in the factories of the mind. It consists of pain that has long since passed and is no longer useful. It consists of precautions that were important in the past, but that serve no purpose in the present.

The Remnants We carry small membranes of memories Within us As do trees, flowers, stones, All life force around us Fragments of memories Engraved in chips of iron, copper, silver... Interlaced in the workings of men Intertwined into the streets, buildings The networks around us Pathways between ages Each carrying their Remnants of the past

There's an old saying about those who cannot remember the past being condemned to repeat it. But those of us who refuse to forget the past are condemned to relive it.

There’s no need to look back. What’s behind you is smaller than what’s in front you.

There's no harm in reviewing the past from time to time; knowing where you've been is part of knowing where you are, and all that happy horse shit. But the American media have an absolute fixation on this. They rob us of the present by insisting on the past. If they were able, I'm sure they would pay equal attention to the future. Trouble is, they don't have any film on it.

There's no password more powerful than your past.

There's not a day that goes by, without me thinking of you, dying, in someone else's arms.

There's nothing you can do about the past." "You're wrong. I can learn from it..." Tariq dug his heels into his stallion's flanks, and the horse shot forward, painting a dark smudge across the sand. "And I can make sure it never happens again!

There's some wounds that run too deep to be seen. They're the most dangerous.

There’s something in my voice that brings him back to me, overrides his buzz. ‘Gaby’—all traces of playfulness have gone—‘if anything ever happens to me, you’ll be fine. You’re strong enough to look after yourself. I hate to admit it, but you don’t need me. Never did.’ A smile. ‘But listen, nothing is going to happen today. It’s all good.’ ‘Jude, we’re high enough up to get a nose bleed.’ ‘So come with me.’ I blink. ‘Fuck off.’ ‘I mean it. We can do this together.’ He raises his eyebrows at the girl who checked his harness. She nods. I risk looking over the side. There’s a river far beneath us. So far down we can’t hear it. My entire body goes numb. ‘You’ve got about thirty seconds and then I’m going on my own.’ What a choice: watch my brother jump out of this car or put aside my own fear and go with him. Share the recklessness. Why didn’t we go to Paris? We’d be arguing over where to buy cheese right now. Adrenaline begins to burn through me. ‘Screw it.’ Jude breaks into a wide smile. ‘Seriously?’ I glance at the yawning space beneath us. ‘Hurry up before I change my mind.

There's this quote - "if there's anything I have learnt about life is that IT MOVES ON" let me tell you, these three words are only first half of the story. The other half is these five words - "YOU HAVE TO LET GO" If you continue to cling to your past, how will your life Ever move on. Some effort is required from your end too.

There was no use wondering about the past.

There was only present, and it was infinite. The past and the future were just blinders we wore so that infinity wouldn't drive us mad.

There were days when I still put on make up in case you’d come back, but I wear the same clothes and shower in the rain and eat when I can and sleep when I can, which is rare and not often, so if you’d see me now on these streets where I once imagined walking with you you’d have a hard time recognising me. I takes a lot to run away.

The ruins often amaze us because we are so arrogant that it is difficult for us to accept the talents of the people of the past!

There were so many wrongs piling up on both sides, so much of the past being dragged into the present, that living there was like carving the story of your life on to a sepulchral monument.

The skeletons of the past must not hold back the dream of a new life, even though fear and regret, guilt and remorse may unsettle us during the effort to give our future a new home. (“Into a new life”)

The shutter of the photographer's camera makes that repeated mechanical sound. That unlocking and locking of the doors of light to send momentary images of the present into the light trap of the past.

The simultaneity of near and far confused me; I thought it possible to find the past, the present and the future united in one place, giving it all that life can hold; but I had grave doubts that at any given moment life might reign both here and there, on this side and that side of the seas and mountains. And such doubts, demanding resolution, may have inspired earliest journeys: I went forth, not to learn what fear was but to test what the names held and feel their magic in the flesh, just as, at the open window, you feel the miraculous power of the sun you'd long seen reflected on distant hills and spread on dewy meadows.

The smile disappears just like that, like a candle being snuffed out. For a second she looks almost angry. [...] For a moment she stands there. Then she turns around. She is holding the lantern low so her face is in darkness. Her eyes are two bare reflections, glittering, like black stones in the moonlight. “You might as well get used to it now,” she says with quiet intensity. “Everything you were, the life you had, the people you knew … dust.” She shakes her head and says, a little more firmly, “There is no before. There is only now, and what comes next.

The sky sinks slowly inside the past.

The success of the future does not lie solely on the safety of the past, but relies broadly on the security of the present.

the star that I was wishing the light that I was kissing sitting back and reminiscing that night, it was missing.

The struggles of the past are the gateway to the blessings of the future.

The something which had been a future was now a present and would become a past.

The story of my own childhood is a complicated sentence that I am always trying to finish, to finish and put behind me. It resists finishing, and partly this is because words are not enough; my early world was synaesthesic, and I am haunted by the ghosts of my own sense impressions, which re-emerge when I try to write, and shiver between the lines.

The story of your past doesn’t have to become the story of your life.

The terrible thing is that it's impossible to tear the past out by the roots.

The telling and the hearing of a story is not a simple act. The one who tells must reach down into deeper layers of the self, reviving old feelings, reviewing the past. Whatever is retrieved is reworked into a new form, one that narrates events and gives the listener a path through these events that leads to some fragment of wisdom. The one who hears takes the story in, even to a place not visible or conscious to the mind, yet there. In this inner place a story from another life suffers a subtle change. As it enters the memory of the listener it is augmented by reflection, by other memories, and even the body hearing and responding in the moment of the telling. By such transmissions, consciousness is woven.

The trouble with drowning in the mess of your own life is that you're not in any shape to save anyone else. You can't be a lighthouse when you're underwater yourself.

The year 2100 will see eugenics universally established. In past ages, the law governing the survival of the fittest roughly weeded out the less desirable strains. Then man's new sense of pity began to interfere with the ruthless workings of nature. As a result, we continue to keep alive and to breed the unfit. The only method compatible with our notions of civilization and the race is to prevent the breeding of the unfit by sterilization and the deliberate guidance of the mating instinct, Several European countries and a number of states of the American Union sterilize the criminal and the insane. This is not sufficient. The trend of opinion among eugenists is that we must make marriage more difficult. Certainly no one who is not a desirable parent should be permitted to produce progeny. A century from now it will no more occur to a normal person to mate with a person eugenically unfit than to marry a habitual criminal.

The truth is, Everyone was taken before, What hurts is that, sometimes they are imprisoned with their past.

The two of us in that room. No past, no future. All intense deep that-time-only. A feeling that everything must end, the music, ourselves, the moon, everything. That if you get to the heart of things you find sadness for ever and ever, everywhere; but a beautiful silver sadness, like a Christ face.

The typewriter is indeed my passport into a world otherwise barred to me and my kind.

The weight of your baggage never stops true love from taking flight.

The whole of China was overshadowed by the injustice of the past.

...the wounds of the past and the scars of the present don't disfigure me in your eyes - because you know the price I pay for loving you ...

They made a major mistake," he blurted out, "the dumb bastards, when they didn't start by killing you first." "Benjamin Thomas Parish, that was the sweetest and most bizarre compliment anyone's ever given me." I kissed him on the cheek. He kissed me on the mouth. "You know," I whispered, "a year ago, I would have sold my soul for that." He shook his head. "Not worth it." And, for one-ten thousandth of a second, all of it fell away, the despair and grief and anger and pain and hunger, and the old Ben Parish rose from the dead. The eyes that impaled. The smile that slayed. In another moment, he would fade, slide back into the new Ben, the one called Zombie, and I understood something I hadn't before: He was dead, the object of my schoolgirl desires, just as the schoolgirl who desired him was dead.

They may call you "Stupid" because of what you've done in the past. Hey, you are going to be "Prominent" because of what the Lord has done. The stupid "S" in Saul was exchange to become the Prominent "P" in Paul... and you ask why? It's because of what the Lord has done, Give thanks!

They say that when people still rode on vehicles powered by oil, they could go anywhere they wanted.

The world around me and my past seem far away and distorted, as if time and space were taffy being stretched and looped and twisted out of shape.

The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.