A Quote by Muhammad Ali

Oh! how the hours hasten to change into days, the days into months, the months into years, and those into life's annihilation! — © Muhammad Ali
Oh! how the hours hasten to change into days, the days into months, the months into years, and those into life's annihilation!
Our life is made up of time; our days are measured in hours, our pay measured by those hours, our knowledge is measured by years. We grab a few quick minutes in our busy day to have a coffee break. We rush back to our desks, we watch the clock, we live by appointments. And yet your time eventually runs out and you wonder in your heart of hearts if those seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years and decades were being spent the best way they possibly could. In other words, if you could change anything, would you?
A month of days, a year of months, 20 years of months in the treadmill, is the life that slays everything worthy of the name of life.
Days, weeks, months, years," said the boy. "Minutes and hours and seconds. I don't know about any of those things.
I was 14 in Barcelona, and when I initially went there, I didn't see my mum for six months and my dad for four months. Australia is far from Spain, but I don't remember how long or how short the days felt. I think what was most difficult for my parents was that if anything went wrong, they couldn't say, 'OK, we'll be there in a couple of hours.'
One cannot walk down an avenue, converse with a friend, enter a building, browse beneath the sandstone arches of an old arcade without meeting an instrument of time. Time is visible in all places. Clock towers, wristwatches, church bells divide years into months, months into days, days into hours, hours into seconds, each increment of time marching after the other in perfect succession. And beyond any particular clock, a vast scaffold of time, stretching across the universe, lays down the law of time equally for all.
Life is not made up of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but of moments. You must experience each one before you can appreciate it.
One year Halloween came on October 24, three hours after midnight. At that time, James Nightshade of 97 Oak Street was thirteen years, eleven months, twenty-three days old. Next door, William Halloway was thirteen years, eleven months, and twenty-four days old. Both touched toward fourteen; it almost trembled in their hands. And that was the October week when they grew up overnight, and were never so young any more.
The hours pass and the days and the months and the years, and the past time never returns.
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
Dear Sweetheart, Without you my days are endless. Days seem like weeks... Weeks feel like months... Months like years... Years like centuries... Centuries like... You get the idea.
This is days and days and months and years and all the minutes in between, just you me.
Success is relative and individual and personal. It is your answer to the problem of making your minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years add up to a great life.
You don't have to change that much for it to make a great deal of difference. A few simple disciplines can have a major impact on how your life works out in the next 90 days, let alone in the next 12 months or the next 3 years.
Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
Oh Beer! Oh Hodgson, Guinness, Allsop, Bass! Names that should be on every infant's tongue! Shall days and months and years and centuries pass, And still your merits be unrecked, unsung?
To make a film is eighteen months of your life. It's seven days a week. It's twenty hours a day.
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