Quotes About Time

If you've found someone who loves you – that's the most important thing of all. If you've got that, then you should appreciate every damn second with them.

Il tempo passa, è nella sua natura, e seppure dobbiamo portare con noi le ferite e il dolore, mi mostrava una volta in più che il nostro compito è andare avanti.

Letter [December to Persephone] Am I the only one to notice the soft layer of haze above snow? You say you see butterflies in the skeleton pelvis, well, what about the larger hand of the clock? Or a cauldron for boiling water? Did you, do you ever stop falling?" I repeat your name a word it almost means nothing Do you remember encyclopedias? I piled up the books so you could reach the table. Now the only way to recall you is the shape of your walking away.

this thing seems more dreadful than anything else that has ever happened, more utterly dreadful — but you'll find that it will pass and be completely forgotten —

Those who have reached the seventh incarnation carry with them all that was learnt, suffered and experienced in the previous six. Life for them is a perpetual and unsatisfying deja vu. Nothing is new, truly interesting, truly vital. Everything has done before, even before it begins. Such a soul is said to live a 'Saturday Life

For she thought that she glimpsed through the dust of the years, a faint flicker of the girl who had lingered in the lanes when the young man Williams and she had been courting. And looking at Williams as he stood before her twitching and bowed, she thought that she glimpsed a faint flicker of the youth, very stalwart and comely, who had bent his head downwards and sideways as he walked and whispered and kissed in the lanes.

I do Yoga. I'd like to say I do it every morning, but I don't, I just don't have the time.

I'm not living, I'm just killing time

Simple Complex systems can arise from simple rules. It's not that we want to survive, it's that we've been drugged and made to act as if we do while all the while the sea breaks and rolls, painlessly, under. If we're not copying it, we're lonely. Is this the knowledge that demands to be passed down? Time is made from swatches of heaven and hell. If we're not killing it, we're hungry.

Evening succeeds evening.

The future is all around here.' It's a place, anyplace where we don't exist.

Ends Meet 1 Could be time is practice, balance, the action executed in the mind before and after. Where does mind end? 2 We mark a break with what has come before, come through the door, down the hatch. Not a clean break exactly. 3 Our life was rehearsal, Mother almost said so that we believed we would escort her to the future where she could be happy.

I existed finally as the idea of temporal extension.

Maybe next year. Everything was maybe next year.

é una strana accozzaglia di cose, vero? Ciò che resta di una vita.

You made good time from Portland." In seconds, she shunted away the brief flicker of remembered heat from her gaze and became as coolly polite as her downstairs neighbor. "I was afraid you'd be ready to string me up if I didn't hurry." "I

By the time three-thirty rolled around, Caroline had no idea how Marjorie possibly kept up with these two little bundles of energy.

I used to babysit Brooke Callahan, Claire thought with some dismay. Could the girl really be old enough to legally operate that stethoscope?

i've always admired the last words of condemned men, the epitome of false bravado and i've often thought that that would not be a bad way to end, to go down snarling screaming for revenge, if not in this life then in the next, swearing vengeance in another time place dimension great

Diez siglos son demasiados para un solo hombre y apenas un suspiro para la piedra.

Entre más recordamos, más cerca estamos de la muerte.

They had painted a lady leaning her arms on the sill of the window. This lady was waiting for a husband. Her flesh was slack and she was some forty-five years old. Perhaps she had been waiting since she was fifteen. A rose and mauve lady that had not yet gathered her flesh and her beauty into dark clothes, and still waited, like a rose stripped of its petals, with her faded colors and her artificial smile, bitter as a grimace.

But Alfanhui didn't want to abuse the rosemary, because one shouldn't tell a lot in one day, since the stories lose their strength.

Take your time, now,' said Mr. Blood. 'I never knew speed made by overhaste.