Quotes About Time

All that evening I sat by my fire at the Warwick Arms, steeped in a dream of the olden time, while the rain beat upon the windows, and the wind roared about the eaves and corners.

I judged I would have the start of the best-educated man in the kingdom by a matter of thirteen hundred years and upwards.

Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money.

You have had time enough. I have given you every advantage, and not interfered. It is plain your magic is weak. It is only fair that I begin now." I made about three passes in the air, and then there was an awful crash and

Não tenho medo da morte. Estive morto por bilhões e bilhões de anos antes de meu nascimento, e isso nunca me causou qualquer inconveniência.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.

Life is short, break the rules., forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile.

We did not oversleep at St. Nicholas. The church-bell began to ring at four-thirty in the morning, and from the length of time it continued to ring I judged that it takes the Swiss sinner a good while to get the invitation through his head.

Short time here, long time gone. The reason to try to be good, smart, kind, and on the side of angels is because it's more fun and because there really aren't any angels.

chapter 2 Raised by Wolves The biggest gift of being unambiguously mentally ill is the time I've saved myself trying to be normal.

There's no tense but the present. The fantastic presents itself as fact.

I was back to being polite, the well-tempered paranoid. I didn't have much choice. If I wasn't polite, they could stick me with those needles or put me back in that little room or take away my visitor privileges or any number of other things. Besides, there didn't seem any urgency or anything to be gained by not being polite, the way there had been before. So I was polite. There was time.

Knowledge is hot water on wool. It shrinks time and space.

Here then - the after math of meaning. A lifetime finished between the space of two frames.

Your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You'll care only about the darkness and you'll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you're some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay.

Scientists estimate the universe unfolded from its state of infinite destiny* - a moment commonly referred to as the big bang - approximately 1.3-2 x 10^10 years ago. *Typo: destiny should read density.

she still cannot resist looking out the window every couple of minutes. The sound of a passing truck causes her to glance away. Even if there is no sound, the weight of a hundred seconds always turns her head.

I'm all soils west when the Earth lets go. I'm a thousand Julys.

But tomorrow came faster than expected, as if the future were never somewhere else, but all along part of the fabric of every present, merely untwining itself again and again into a new distinction that could never be new again.

I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote something, I napped and dreamt something too, and with all that something, I still have nothing because so much of sum'things has always been and always will be you. I miss you.

Ever see yourself doing something in the past and no matter how many times you remember it you still want to scream stop, somehow redirect the action, reorder the present?

You have to let the water run awhile and even though it remains icy, part of you still refuses to believe it won´t change, especially if you wait a little longer or open up the valve a little more. So you wait but no matter how many minutes run by, you still see no steam, you still feel no heat.

Even up until these final eons of time, we felt we could create anything. We could build ourselves a heaven. But why? We were Heaven already. Only in the very end did we try to build a S.O.U.L. That which would outlast V.E.M., outlast The Verse, outlast death. But it was impossible. Or we were too late. Though still the H.O.L.Y. tried. And built Hell instead.

and this great blue world of ours seems a house of leaves moments before the wind