Quotes About Time

Development and catastrophe can often be measured by nothing clumsier than the moment-hand.

Any one who imagines ten days too short a time—not for falling into leanness, lightness, or other measurable effects of passion, but—for the whole spiritual circuit of alarmed conjecture and disappointment, is ignorant of what can go on in the elegant leisure of a young lady's mind.

Here's a fender that if you had the misfortune to hang yourselves would cut you down in no time—with astonishing celerity ... —an appropriate thing for a spare bedroom where there was a four-poster and a guest a little out of his mind.

He leaped over the years in this way, and, in the haste of strong purpose and strong desire, did not see how they would be made up of slow days, hours, and minutes.

a fresh young nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch.

Just a month from this day, on the twentieth of September, 1850, I shall be sitting in this chair, in this study, at ten o' clock at night, longing to die, weary of incessant insight and foresight, without delusions and without hope.

Have not men, shut up in solitary imprisonment, found an interest in marking the moments by straight strokes of a certain length on the wall, until the growth of the sum of straight strokes, arranged in triangles, has become a mastering purpose? Do we not wile away moments of inanity or fatigued waiting by repeating some trivial movement or sound, until the repetition has bred a want, which is incipient habit?

by their brevity when Dorothea had to

Surely the golden hours are turning gray And dance no more, and vainly strive to run: I see their white locks streaming in the wind— Each face is haggard as it looks at me, Slow turning in the constant clasping round Storm-driven.

I protest against all our interest, all our effort at understanding being given to the young skins that look blooming in spite of trouble; for these too will get faded, and will know the older and more eating griefs which we are helping to neglect. In

I thought we should never part with that while we lived; everything is going away from us; the end of our lives will have nothing in it like the beginning!

Who that cares much to know the history of man, and how the mysterious mixture behaves under the varying experiments of Time, has not dwelt, at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa,' has not smiled with some gentleness at the thought of the little girl walk- ing forth one morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go and seek martyrdom in the country of the Moors?

Persecution and revenge, like courtship and toadyism, will not prosper without a considerable expenditure of time and ingenuity

for it was nearly five o'clock; and if people are to quarrel often, it follows as a corollary that their quarrels cannot be protracted beyond certain limits.

It seems to me now, if I was to find Father at home to-night, I should behave different; but there's no knowing — perhaps nothing 'ud be a lesson to us if it didn't come too late. It

Men outlive their love, but they don't outlive the consequences of their recklessness.

No todos podemos hacer conquistas cuando nuestra fealdad ha pasado su mejor momento.

Our finest hope is finest memory.

Yes, my dear, yes," said Mr. Lammeter; "one feels that as one gets older. Things look dim to old folks: they'd need have some young eyes about 'em, to let 'em know the world's the same as it used to be.

The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.

The days were longer then (for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter evenings.

You can get yourself pretty thoroughly lost, in time and space, if you don't know where you are or where you have just come from. How is this relevant to creative writing and writing programs? First of all, there is a certain amount of misinformation masquerading as assumed history -- as the story of creative writing in America.

I'm sitting here doing nothing but ageing while my guitar gently weeps

Life is half spent before we know what it is.