Quotes About Time

Oportunidade é uma deusa altiva que não perde tempo com aqueles que não estão preparados.

When a marriage for love is on the carpet; you must expect to waste time. But when it's a marriage of convenience between two people who have no whims and who know what they want; it's soon arranged.

All our days are the same; they are all calm and beautiful; they pass swiftly and purely like those of our childhood.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.

We must welcome the future, remembering that soon it will be the past; and we must respect the past, remembering that it was once all that was humanly possible.

What I'm primarily saying,' he says, 'is that this is a time for knowledge assimilation, not backstabbing. We learned a lesson, you and I. We personally grew. Gratitude for this growth is an appropriate response. Gratitude, and being careful never to make the same mistake twice.

None of it was real; nothing was real. Everything was real; inconceivably real, infinitely dear.

Someday, I'm sure, dreams will come true. But when? Why not now? Why not?

By Fate, by Destiny, said the Vermonter. By the fact that time runs in only one direction, and we are borne along by it, influenced precisely as we are, to do just the things that we do, the bass lisper said.

For until we are ended, "never" may not be truly said. jack "malarkey" fuller And love may yet be ours. gene "rascal" kane

None of that ever was, he said. And it never will be.

Over the years I've felt: Kindness, sure—but first let me finish this semester, this degree, this book; let me succeed at this job, and afford this house, and raise these kids, and then, finally, when all is accomplished, I'll get started on the kindness. Except it never all gets accomplished. It's a cycle that can go on … well, forever.

Then, with no change in size at all (i.e., while still child-sized), he displayed his various future-forms (forms he had, alas, never succeeded in attaining): Nervous young man in wedding-coat; Naked husband, wet-groined with recent pleasure; Young father leaping out of bed to light a candle at a child's cry; Grieving widower, hair gone white; Bent ancient fellow with an ear trumpet, athwart a stump, swatting at flies All the while seeming quite innocent of these alterations

Every day starts out as a certain day, dear reader, which, when it begins, we call today. Hence, every day, as we wake to a new today, we must assume that today may be the day. For what, though? That is what is unknown, that is what I must find out, and quickly now: for what will each of my coming todays henceforth be for?

None of it was real; nothing was real. Everything was real; inconceivably real, infinitely dear. These and all things started as nothing, latent within a vast energy-broth, but then we named them, and loved them, and, in this way, brought them forth. And now must lose them. I send this out to you, dear friends, before I go, in this instantaneous thought-burst, from a place where time slows and then stops and we may live forever in a single instant. Goodbye goodbye good—

We were as we were! the bass lisper barked. How could we have been otherwise? Or, being that way, have done otherwise? We were that way, at that time , and had been led to that place, not by any innate evil in ourselves, but by the state of our cognition and our experience up until that moment .

been granted the great mother-gift: robert g. twistings Time. lance durning More time. percival "dash" collier CVI.

The poet of the Pervigilium Veneris wrote in a darkening time, amid the breakdown of classic literacy. He knew that the Muses can fall silent: perdidi musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit: sic Amyclas, cum tacerent, perdidit silentium. "To perish by silence": that civilization on which Apollo looks no more will not long endure.

For the late-twentieth-century reader, says Borges, Joyce comes before Homer, and the Odyssey is a late commentary on Ulysses .

As a breath on glass, - As witch-fires that burn, The gods and monsters pass, Are dust, and return. ("The Face of the Skies")

O Space and Time and stars at strife, How dreadful your infinity! Shrined by your termless trinity, How strange, how terrible, is life! ("The Testimony of the Suns")

Till her appointed course be run; Till on the darkness faint her breath Flown to the silent void, and Death Sit crowned upon the ashen sun. ("The Testimony of the Suns")

The pathway traced with blood and tears, and dust of all our father's dead, Whose backward footsteps, wandering, red, Fade to the mist of nameless years. ("The Testimony of the Suns")

Those who based decisions on principle, not some snapshot of public opinion, were often vindicated over time.