A Quote by Desiderius Erasmus

What passes out of one's mouth passes into a hundred ears. It is a great misfortune not to have sense enough to speak well. — © Desiderius Erasmus
What passes out of one's mouth passes into a hundred ears. It is a great misfortune not to have sense enough to speak well.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
When time passes, it's the people who knew you whom you want to see; they're the ones you can talk to. When enough time passes, what's it matter what they did to you?
Not a day passes over the earth, but men and women of no note do great deeds, speak great words and suffer noble sorrows.
In this moment that blooms and fades as it passes, he is enough, and all is well in the world.
Intimacy is not trapped within words. It passes through words. It passes. The truth is that intimates leave the room. Doors close. Faces move away from the window. Time passes. Voices recede into the dark. Death finally quiets the voice. And there is no way to deny it. No way to stand in the crowd, uttering one's family language.
Suffering passes, but the fact of having suffered never passes.
Men don't make passes at crones with big (rhymes with passes).
Love passes quickly, and passes like a street Arab, anxious to mark his way with mischief.
Suffering passes; having suffered never passes.
Life passes into pages if it passes into anything.
To see evil and call it good, mocks God. Worse, it makes goodness meaningless. A word without meaning is an abomination, for when the word passes beyond understanding the very thing the word stands for passes out of the world and cannot be recalled.
There must still be room for the falling note, of course. Even in an undying world there are times when beauty passes from sight, or love passes from the heart, and we feel the sorrow of partition.
My father was an engineer, .. But I found out that the film critics for the Stanford Daily got free passes for all the films. So I became first an assistant critic and then the main film critic. Those free passes changed my life.
Painters... are the most lively observers of what passes in the world about them, and the closest observers of what passes in their own minds.
We live in a time when people are afraid of beauty, because beauty passes; you can't hang on to it. And even if you see something or someone beautiful, the next time you hear it, it sounds different. So you can't cling to beauty; beauty passes and when that passes, you realize you pass too, and you will die. And that's why people cry at a beautiful view, a beautiful lecture, a beautiful painting, a new baby.
One of the most powerful devices of poetry is the use of distortions. You can go from talking about the way a minute passes to the way a century passes, or a lifetime.
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