A Quote by Woody Allen

Why are our days numbered and not, say, lettered? — © Woody Allen
Why are our days numbered and not, say, lettered?
In the Gospels, we are reminded, 'The very hairs of your head are all numbered.' And your numbered hairs, like your numbered days, recede daily.
Lying in bed, I determined that since I'm a Christian, I believe we all have our days - our days are numbered. I figured it was Dale's day to die, and I was the best person to win the race and be able to honor him in the victory.
The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered.
There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days
Our days are numbered, and God is just waiting for you to come back to him.
Their days [of Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton] - their days will be numbered very quickly.
Why are we so attached to the severities of the past? Why are we so proud of having endured our fathers and our mothers, the fireless days and the meatless days, the cold winters and the sharp tongues? It's not as if we had a choice.
Our days are numbered. One of the primary goals in our lives should be to prepare for our last day. The legacy we leave is not just in our possessions, but in the quality of our lives. What preparations should we be making now? The greatest waste in all of our earth, which cannot be recycled or reclaimed, is our waste of the time that God has given us each day.
We knew our days were numbered. We had fouled up our lives and we were getting ready for a shake-up.
Maybe it's time to go back 2,000 years for a spiritual renaissance. If not, our days may be numbered and a terrible implosion is coming. There is no more middle ground. It is one or the other.
The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human.
The days of the 'intuitive' manager are numbered.
The days of the digital watch are numbered.
When we're all gone at last then there'll be nobody here but death and his days will be numbered too. He'll be out in the road there with nothing to do and nobody to do it to. He'll say: where did everybody go? And that's how it will be. What's wrong with that?
Here is a list of terrible things, The jaws of sharks, a vultures wings The rabid bite of the dogs of war, The voice of one who went before, But most of all the mirror's gaze, Which counts us out our numbered days.
I do worry that the days of the physical paper are seriously numbered.
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