It's pretty scary to know how quickly time flies.

The words of James Wan—“It’s pretty scary to know how quickly time flies.”—strike with the weight of a truth that every human being eventually confronts. Time is the silent thief, slipping through our fingers even as we clutch at it. Days become weeks, weeks become years, and what once seemed distant suddenly stands before us. Wan, a storyteller of shadows and fears, here speaks not of ghosts or monsters, but of the greatest terror of all: the swiftness of life itself. To realize how quickly time flies is to awaken to the fragility of our existence, and to feel both awe and dread at the brevity of our days.

The ancients knew this well. The Romans carved into their wisdom the phrase tempus fugit—“time flies.” They saw that life is fleeting, and so they counseled carpe diem—“seize the day.” For while it is indeed frightening to witness the rushing river of time, it is also a call to cherish the present. Wan’s words echo this eternal warning: fear not only the flight of time, but also the danger of sleepwalking through it, of failing to awaken to its speed until it has already passed.

History gives us luminous reminders of this truth. Consider Alexander the Great, who before the age of thirty had conquered much of the known world. Yet even he, in the height of his victories, is said to have wept when he realized how little time he had, and how many worlds remained unconquered. For even emperors are bound by the flight of hours. His story shows us that whether one lives as a peasant or a king, time’s wings beat swiftly, and its passing humbles all.

But time’s swiftness is not always tragedy. Think of Helen Keller, who in the silence and darkness of her early life seemed bound by limitation. Yet in what little time she was given, she achieved greatness, becoming a voice for millions. Her life reminds us that though time flies, it can still be filled with meaning, even if it feels brief. The terror of its swiftness must therefore be balanced with the courage to fill it with deeds worthy of remembrance.

Beloved listener, the meaning is clear: to fear time’s passing is natural, but to be paralyzed by that fear is folly. The flight of time is not within our power, but the use of time is. Each moment wasted deepens the fear, while each moment embraced diminishes it. If you would master the dread of time, then fill your days with purpose, and the flight of hours will feel less like a thief and more like a gift.

The lesson for us is this: awaken. Do not squander your days in endless distraction. Do not postpone love, or kindness, or creation, for the clock is always moving. If you have words to say, say them; if you have a dream to chase, chase it now. For the scariest truth of all is not that time flies, but that we so often let it fly without riding upon its wings.

Practical wisdom demands this: set aside time each day to reflect, to act with intention, to align your hours with what truly matters. Let your life not be measured only in years, but in depth, in love, in courage. For then, even as time flies, you will not fear it—you will be carried by it toward a life well-lived.

So let James Wan’s words be heard not only as lament but as summons: “It’s pretty scary to know how quickly time flies.” Yes, it is frightening—but let that fear awaken you. Let it rouse you from idleness into action, from hesitation into courage. For though time flies, you can choose to fly with it, and to make your brief journey across the sky burn with brilliance, beauty, and purpose.