Quotes About Time

She was nearly seventy years old. There was no time left for regret or misgivings, no time for dreams of what might have been.

The time is here for me to leave this life. I have fought the good fight. I have finished the race. I have kept the faith.

Have you noticed, she asked him, how standing still can sometimes be no different from moving backward? For the whole world moves on and leaves one behind.

He gazed up at the blue sky and knew that heaven—at least in this life—was neither a time nor a place to be grasped and made into a possession. It came in fleeting moments and then went away again to leave one nostalgic and yearning and on the verge of tears. Very much on the verge of tears. And very frightened.

I do beg you to have some regard for my pride. A million years? I assure you I would stop asking after the first thousand.

No time is really wasted unless one never learns the lessons that it offers.

Have you noticed, she asked him, how we live much of our lives in the past and most of the rest of it in the future? Have you noticed how often the present moment slips by quiet unnoticed?

We can never benefit today from the wisdom we will have gained tomorrow.

They were all true today but tomorrow they would be a little less so and next week less so again. It was in the nature of strong emotion that it faded away over time.

Once in, when did one fall out of love? It had taken several weeks back in October - though it seemed the feeling had merely lain dormant instead of going away altogether. How long would it take this time? And when would it be gone forever?

One could not live forever, though, upon memories and dreams. One could not forever ignore the fact that one was alone and that perhaps one would be alone for the rest of one's life.

There is no such thing as time. There is only our reaction to the inexorable progress of life.

But he was well aware that the future could never be relied upon to be an improvement upon the present. The future did not exist. Only the present did.

But really there was no hurry. It is time to love, he had said downstairs. And time was not always just one second long or even one minute or one hour. Those were artificial divisions, imposed by humankind. Time was infinite. And it was time to love... ...Even infinity had an end. They had loved. And somehow having loved was quite as beautiful as loving. For of course there was no real end to it. Infinity might have an end, but love did not.

Leave love to take its course.

Now was the time for now. Now was one of those rare and precious moments with which one was gifted from time to time. That was all it was. A moment. But it was one to be enjoyed to the full while it lasted and treasured for a lifetime after it was over.

Sometimes one does wonder if one lives quietly from choice or if in reality one is merely waiting for something that may never come.

But miracles did not always come in a single flash of time. Sometimes they came with every step forward one took when every instinct urged two steps back. Sometimes they came with the simple courage to say no longer, no more.

seemed to be one of those senseless acts of Hooliganism which occur from time to time

But our good humour was restored when we saw Lord John Roxton waiting for us upon the platform, his tall, thin figure clad in a yellow tweed shooting-suit. His keen face, with those unforgettable eyes, so fierce and yet so humorous, flushed with pleasure at the sight of us. His ruddy hair was shot with grey, and the furrows upon his brow had been cut a little deeper by Time's chisel, but in all else he was the Lord John who had been our good comrade in the past.

Félix J. Palma, author of the New York Times bestselling The Map of Time, inspired by H.G. Wells's The Time Machine, concludes his time-travel Victorian trilogy with a mesmerizing new novel, The Map of Chaos

The true scientific mind is not to be tied down by its own conditions of time and space. It builds itself an observatory erected upon the border line of present, which separates the infinite past from the infinite future. From this sure post it makes its sallies even to the beginning and to the end of all things. As

Brisa del mar, sol y paciencia, Watson; todo se andará.

The furrows upon his brow had been cut a little deeper by Time's chisel.