A Quote by George Walter

Man's life is but a jest, 
 A dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapor at the best. — © George Walter
Man's life is but a jest, A dream, a shadow, bubble, air, a vapor at the best.
This life of separateness may be compared to a dream, a phantasm, a bubble, a shadow, a drop of dew, a flash of lightning.
My dream date is a tall, dark, handsome, blue eyed man with a bubble butt who will whisk me away to Paris in a hot air balloon to wine me, dine me and.
Your dreamers may dream it The shadow of a dream, Your sages may deem it A bubble on the stream; Yet our kingdom draweth nigher With each dawn and every day, Through the earthquake and the fire Love will find out the way.
It is the same for all men. None of us can escape this shadow of the father, even if that shadow fills us with fear, even if it has no name or face. To be worthy of that man, to prove something to that man, to exorcise the memory of that man from every corner of our life--however it affects us, the shadow of that man cannot be denied.
Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
You ever be having a really good dream, and then, uh- right in the middle of the dream you wake up, right in the best part of the dream? And there you are, back in your stinkin' life again? Man, that's rough, eh?
You're looking at each and every potential corner for an air bubble to escape. Absolutely! You're on the best of your game.
Creatures of a day, what is any one? What is he not? Man is but a dream of a shadow. Yet when there comes as a gift of heaven a gleam of sunshine, there rest upon men a radiant light and, aye, a gentle life.
Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
Man is a dream about a shadow. But when some splendour falls upon him from God, a glory comes to him and his life is sweet.
I believe that, seven generations beyond us, those who look back on our time will find that it was the cry of the trees that helped to restart the dreaming and foster the understanding that we must dream not only for ourselves but also for our communities and for all that shares life with us in our fragile bubble of air.
Once learnt, this business of cooking was to prove an ever growing burden. It scarcely bears thinking about, the time and labour that man and womankind has devoted to the preparation of dishes that are to melt and vanish in a moment like smoke or a dream, like a shadow, and as a post that hastes by, and the air closes behind them, afterwards no sign where they went is to be found.
When you reach a certain level, you live in a bubble when all you think, dream and breathe is becoming the best athlete in the world.
We are things of a day. What are we? What are we not? The shadow of a dream is man, no more.
That eerie hissing you hear may well be the air beginning to seep out of the green energy bubble. The sound is similar to the pfffffft and sshhhhsssssp noises we heard in the early days of the dot-com bubble collapse or the subprime mortgage meltdown.
I like being in my New York bubble. It's the best bubble!
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