Quotes About Time

Comes now a smiling New-Born Year To fill to-day with goodly cheer— An infant hale and lusty. Upon our door-sill he is left By Daddy Time, of clothes bereft Despite the season gusty. If he be Churl or doughty Knight, A Son of Darkness or of Light No man can tell, God bless him! But be he base or glorious Time puts it wholly up to us To dress him!

TO A WITHERED ROSE Thy span of life was all too short— A week or two at best— From budding-time, through blossoming, To withering and rest. Yet compensation hast thou—aye!— For all thy little woes; For was it not thy happy lot To live and die a rose?

I really don't have the time to discuss the errors of your value judgements.

One can relish the varied idiocy of human action during a panic to the full, for, while it is a time of great tragedy, nothing is being lost but money.

All of the great leaders have had one characteristic in common: it was the willingness to confront unequivocally the major anxiety of their people in their time. This, and not much else, is the essence of leadership.

You have many years to livedo things you will be proud to remember when you're old.

What are you going to do for a career? Diverted from his orbit, Donald binked. Well, something which uses up a minimum of my time, I imagine. So I can use the rest to mortar up the gaps in my education.

Little hooligans showing off is okay when they do it away from us, but we don't need that kind of behaviour. You have to have standards. Would have done the same when I was their age, but I'm not. Now is now. There's no room for nostalgia.

There's no time to muck about with nature and romance. Start thinking like that and you'll be old before your time.

Nothing endures. Not a tree. Not love. Not even death by violence.

I began to know that each morning reasserted the problems of night before, that sleep suspended all but changed nothing, that you couldn't make yourself over between dawn and dusk.

So the more things remained the same, the more they changed after all. Nothing endures. Not love, not a tree, not even a death by violence.

Everyone has a moment in history which belongs particularly to him.

It is a sad day when one looks back and sees that his largest regrets have become some of the most integral elements of his dreams.

So the more things remain the same, the more they change after all—plus c'est la même chose, plus ça change. Nothing endures, not a tree, not love, not even a death by violence.

After so many years wondering what kind of person you were going to become one day, somewhere you forgot that this question actually has an answer, and that 'one day' will eventually arrive. If it hasn't already.

Another part of you is already an old man, looking back on things. Waiting at the door for his granddaughter who's trying to make her way home for a visit. You are two people still separated by an ocean of time, part of you bursting to talk about what you saw, part of you longing to tell you what it means.

As a kid you run around so fast, the world around you seems to stand still. A summer vacation can stretch on for an eternity. With each birthday we circle back and cross the same point around the sun. We wish each other 'many happy returns.' But soon you feel the circle begin to tighten, and you realize it's a spiral, and you're already halfway through...

Of all the different ways we reassure ourselves, the least comforting is this: it's already too late.

We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards—you can see where you've been, but not where you're going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It's hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way…

etherness n. the wistful feeling of looking around at a gathering of loved ones, all too aware that even though the room is filled with warmth and laughter now, it won't always be this way-that the coming years will steadily break people away into their own families, or see them pass away one by one, until there comes a time you look back and try to imagine what it feels like to have everyone together in the same place.

anemoia nostalgia for a time you never experienced.

vellichor n. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you'll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.

And maybe one day we'll look back and wonder how we managed to live in the same house for so long, and never stopped to introduce ourselves.