Quotes About Time

Aujourd'hui, je n'ai pas vécu

She asked us to raise the curtain that was covering the window and she looked at the golden leaves of the trees. 'How lovely. I shouldn't see that from my flat!' She smiled. And both of us, my sister and I, had the same thought: it was that same smile that had dazzled us when we were little children, the radiant smile of a young woman. Where had it been between then and now?

Life can't be bought piecemeal; it has to be purchased in bulk- all or nothing. Only there isn't time enough for everything, that's the tragedy of it.

The heartbreaking side of growing old is not in the things around one but in oneself.

Gün doÄŸarken ancak dört saatlik bir ömrü kalm??t?. Dirilttim onu! Kendisine Ne için? diye sormak cesaretini bulamad?m.

There are photographs of both of us, taken at about the same time: I am eighteen, she is nearly forty. Today I could almost be her mother and the grandmother of that sad-eyed girl. I am so sorry for them – for me because I am so young and I understand nothing; for her because her future is closed and she has never understood anything.

Dac? tr?ieÅŸti destul de mult, vei vedea c? fiecare victorie se transform? într-o înfrângere.

The moment anyone begins making calculations or comparisons, they cease to live for the moment: the present becomes a mere pointer to the future, and all sorts of questions tend to arise.

High as it may be, the number of victims is always measurable; and each one taken one by one is never anything but an individual: yet, through time and space, the triumph of the cause embraces the infinite, it interests the whole collectivity. In order to deny the outrage it is enough to deny the importance of the individual, even though it be at the cost of this collectivity: it is everything, he is only a zero.

Time vanishes behind those who leave this world, and the older I get the more my past years draw together.

My life was hurrying, racing tragically toward its end. And yet at the same time it was dripping so slowly, so very slowly now, hour by hour, minute by minute.

One can not, without absurdity, indefinitely sacrifice each generation to the following one; human history would then be only an endless succession of negations which would never return to the positive.

L'amore tra noi era reale, era solido, indistruttibile quanto la verità. Solo, c'era questo fatto del tempo che passava e io non me n'accorgevo. Il fiume del tempo, l'erosione operata dalle acque dei fiumi: ecco, il suo amore ha subito l'erosione delle acque del tempo. Ma allora, perché il mio no?

Já se passaram três anos? [...] A rapidez com que os anos se passaram era angustiante. Quantas vezes ainda teria três anos para viver?

It is old age, rather than death, that is to be contrasted with life. Old age is life's parody, whereas death transforms life into a destiny: in a way it preserves it by giving it the absolute dimension. Death does away with time.

We think that if man gives himself up to an indefinite pursuit of the future he will lose his existence without ever recovering it; he then resembles a madman who runs after his shadow.

Mencionou cinco filmes que merecem ser vistos. Impossível. Houve tempo em que podia ir sozinha ao cinema, ou mesmo ao Teatro. É que não estava só. Havia em mim e à minha volta a sua presença. Agora, quando estou só, digo-me: - Estou só. - E tenho medo.

No se muere de haber nacido, ni de haber vivido, ni de vejez. Se muere de algo».

a abundância de lazer nos empobrece.

Eroticism implies a claim of the instant against time, of the individual against the collectivity; it affirms separation against communication; it rebels against all regulation; it contains a principle hostile to society. Social customs are never bent to fit the rigor of institutions and laws: love has forever asserted itself against them.

A long life filled with laughter, tears, quarrels, embraces, confessions, silences, and sudden impulses of the heart: and yet sometimes it seems that time has not moved by at all. The future still stretches out to infinity.

Para mí, mi madre siempre había existido y nunca había pensado seriamente que la vería desaparecer un día cercano. Su fin se situaba, como su nacimiento, en un tiempo mítico. Cuando yo me decía: tiene edad de morir, eran palabras vacías, como tantas otras. Por primera vez percibía en mi madre un cadáver en cierne.

Estaba dispuesta a negar el espacio y el tiempo antes de admitir que el amor puede no ser eterno.

Hay que esperar siempre que el azúcar se disuelva, que el recuerdo se esfume, que la herida cicatrice, que el sol se oculte, que el fastidio se disipe.