A word, once sent abroad, flies irrevocably.
Sadness flies away on the wings of time.
But meanwhile time flies; it flies never to be regained.
I think about my mother every day. But usually the thoughts are fleeting – she crosses my mind like a spring cardinal that flies past the edge of your eye: startling, luminous, lovely… gone.
To sleep after sunrise was impossible on account of the number of flies which kept buzzing about the face.
He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sun rise.
Time flies never to be recalled.