Quotes About Time

I am the old house With the noxious smell and the sorrow before morning, In which all past is present, all degradation Is unredeemable.

Where is the Life we have lost in living?

Nessun maggior dolore Che di ricordar del tempo felice Nella miseria. . . .

Ridiculous the waste sad time Stretching before and after

In a minute there is time  For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

But I deceived myself. It takes so many years To learn that one is dead!

We haven't seen him for nearly eight years; And to tell the truth, now that we've seen him, We're a little worried about his health. He doesn't seem to be . . . quite himself.

If all time is eternally present, all time is unredeemable.

In my time, these affairs were kept out of the papers; But nowadays, there's no such thing as privacy.

will not find it preposterous that the past should be altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past. And the poet who is aware of this will be aware of great difficulties and responsibilities.

All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death?

At the beginning, eight years ago, I felt, at first, that sense of separation, Of isolation unredeemable, irrevocable— It's eternal, or gives a knowledge of eternity, Because it feels eternal while it lasts. That is one hell.

What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened.

You none of you understand how old you are And death will come to you as a mild surprise, A momentary shudder in a vacant room.

And indeed there will be time to wonder, 'Do I dare?', and 'Do I dare?

There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet

Time is such a cheat. The more importance you give it, the less you have of it.

The clocks had nothing to do with time but were merely instruments, the clicking and ticking of silver and gold and bronze and pinchbeck arrows, a droll and slapstick rhapsody of lies.

A world that won't forget is a world drowned in its not forgetting. Do we want a world full of unedited memory? To be human is to be finite.

But our own selves are like pearls, created by layer after layer of present laid over past until the original thing is completely hidden.

God gives us all youth, and the takes it away again. What have you gained to offset that loss? Patience? Perhaps a little wisdom? Then be patient, and perhaps you'll also be wise. (Miriamele)

When you were old, did your memories crowd out your other thoughts? Or did you lose them—your childhood, your hated enemies, your friends?

When you stopped to think about it, he reflected, there weren't many things in life one truly needed. To want too much was worse than greed: it was stupidity—a waste of precious time and effort. The

Since your father has escaped my justice, it is you who must hear my words. Words. You keep saying... Because that was the gift your father gave to me. And the curse that ruined me as well, changed my life to wretched misery. There are hours yet before the guard comes - nay, eons. An eternity, in fact. This is my time, Miranda. Now you will have your words back: before I kill you, you will hear my tale... and you will know what you have done.