Quotes About Time

Think of how much more time and energy we would have to focus on other things that matter if we weren't so busy surviving.

Drifting across the vast space, silent except for wind and footsteps, I felt uncluttered and unhurried for the first time in a while, already on desert time.

The stories shatter. Or you wear them out or leave them behind. Over time the story of the memory loses its power. Over time you become someone else. Only when the honey turns to dust are you free.

How long does it take to see something, to know someone? If you put in years, you realize how little you grasped at the start, even when you thought you knew. We move through life mostly not seeing what is around us, not knowing who is around us, not understanding the forces at play, not understanding ourselves. Unless we stay with it, and maybe this is a movie about staying with it.

We were subject to the wonders and frustrations of unpredictability and better able to withstand them because time moved at what would only later seem a gentle flow, like a river across a prairie before the waterfall of acceleration we would all tumble over. We were prepared for encounters with strangers in ways that the digital age would buffer a lot of us from later. It was an era of both more unpredictable contact and more profound solitude.

What lies ahead seems unlikely; when it becomes the past, it seems inevitable.

Measured over too short a span, change becomes imperceptible; people mistake today's peculiarities for eternal verities.

Many events plant seeds, imperceptible at the time, that bear fruit long afterward.

As Nancy Frey writes of the long-distance pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, 'When pilgrims begin to walk several things usually begin to happen to their perceptions of the world which continue over the course of the journey: they develop a changing sense of time, a heightening of the senses, and a new awareness of their bodies and the landscape....A young German man expressed it this way: 'In the experience of walking, each step is a thought. You can't escape yourself.

A person in her twenties has been a child for most of her life, but as time goes by that portion that is childhood becomes smaller and smaller, more and more distant, more and more faded, though they say at the end of life the beginning returns with renewed vividness, as though you had sailed all the way around the world and were going back into the darkness from which you came.

I fear their false urgency, their call to speed, their insistence that travel is less important than arrival...

stayed there for a restorative year of catching my breath and looking around and not being desperate for time or money.

A manilla envelope came through the mail slot a few weeks later. I had a little queasiness about meeting that teenager directly, and so I waited several years to open it.

When I first began to write, I had been a child for most of my life, and my childhood memories were vivid and potent, and the forces that shaped me, Most of them have grown fainter with time, and whenever I write one down, I give it away: it ceases to have the shadowy life of memory and becomes fixed in letters: it ceases to be mine; it loses that mobile unreliability of the live.

The effects of your actions may unfold in ways you cannot foresee or even imagine. They may unfold long after your death. That is when the words of so many writers resonate most.

We often hear about heroes in disasters, but the window of time when acts of physical courage matter is often very brief, and those when generosity and empathy are more important to survival last for weeks, months, years.

Writing is lonely, it's an intimate talk with the undead, with the unborn, with the absent, with strangers , with the readers who may never come to be and who even if they read you will do so weeks, years, decades later.

PomyÅ›lcie, jak wiele czasu i energii mogÅ'ybyÅ›my poÅ›wiÄ™ci? najró?niejszym wa?nym sprawom, gdybyÅ›my tylko nie byÅ'y a? tak zajÄ™te samym przetrwaniem.

Nobody gets over anything; time doesn't heal any wounds...the landscape in which identity is supposed to be grounded is not solid stuff; it's made out of memory and desire...

at the poles themselves, there are not 365 days per year but one long night and one long stretch of light, and the sun rises once in the spring and sets once in the fall.

The effects of your actions may unfold in ways you cannot foresee or even imagine. They may unfold long after your death. That is when the words of so many writers often resonate most.

Their opposite is the equator, where every day and every night of the year is exactly twelve hours long. The farther north or south you go, the longer summer days and winter nights get. In Iceland, each day of spring was several minutes longer than the one before, so that in May the days

Si el dolor y la belleza están conectados, quizá con la madurez llega no lo que Nabhan llama abstracción, sino un sentido estético que compensa parcialmente las pérdidas que sufrimos con el tiempo y que encuentra belleza en lo distante.

Sometimes, cause and effect are centuries apart