A Quote by Ovid

Winged time glides on insensibly, and deceive us; and there is nothing more fleeting than years. — © Ovid
Winged time glides on insensibly, and deceive us; and there is nothing more fleeting than years.

Quote Author

Nothing is more apt to deceive us than our own judgment of our work. We derive more benefit from having our faults pointed out by our enemies than from hearing the opinions of friends.
The sculptor represents the transition from one pose to another he indicates how insensibly the first glides into the second. In his work we still see a part of what was and we discover a part of what is to be.
Our enemies must not deceive themselves-in the 2,000 years of German history known to us, our people have never been more united than today. The Lord of the Universe has treated us so well in the past years that we bow in gratitude to a providence which has allowed us to be members of such a great nation. We thank Him that we also can be entered with honor into the ever-lasting book of German history!
Nothing is more common on earth than to deceive and be deceived.
There is nothing in which men more deceive themselves than in what they call zeal.
Nothing is more easy than to deceive one's self, as our affections are subtle persuaders.
We all experience it. Those moments when we gasp and say, Oh, look at that. Maybe it's nothing more than the way a shadow glides across a face, but in that split second, when you realize something truly remarkable is happening and disappearing right in front of you, if you can pass a camera before your eye, you'll tear a piece of time out of the whole, and in a breath, rescue it and give it new meaning.
The primary function of poetry, as of all the arts, is to make us more aware of ourselves and the world around us. I do not know if such increased awareness makes us more moral or more efficient. I hope not. I think it makes us more human, and I am quite certain it makes us more difficult to deceive.
Time glides away and as we get older through the noiseless years; the days flee and are restrained by no reign.
Nothing is better than music; when it takes us out of time, it has done more for us than we have the right to hope for.
Most of us are aware of and pretend to detest the barefaced instances of that hypocrisy by which men deceive others, but few of us are upon our guard or see that more fatal hypocrisy by which we deceive and over-reach our own hearts.
Wherever we are, any time of night or day, our bosses, junk-mailers, our parents can get to us. Sociologists have actually found that in recent years Americans are working fewer hours than 50 years ago, but we feel as if we're working more. We have more and more time-saving devices, but sometimes, it seems, less and less time.
Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn.
But because truly being here is so much; because everything here apparently needs us, this fleeting world, which in some strange way keeps calling to us. Us, the most fleeting of all.
The players in the England team, the majority of us didn't play more than twice a week until we were 20. The younger girls are training more than that now, so in 10 years' time, when they take over from us, the quality will be so much higher. That's what I'd like to see.
Nothing is better than music; when it takes us out of time, it has done more for us than we have the right to hope for: it has broadened the limits of our sorrowful life, it has lit up the sweetness of our hours of happiness by effacing the pettinesses that diminish us, bringing us back pure and new to what was, what will be, what music has created for us.
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