Quotes About Time

We have not long to love. Light does not stay. The tender things are those we fold away. Coarse fabrics are the ones for common wear. In silence I have watched you comb your hair. Intimate the silence, dim and warm. I could but did not, reach to touch your arm. I could, but do not, break that which is still. (Almost the faintest whisper would be shrill.) So moments pass as though they wished to stay. We have not long to love. A night. A day....

Sometimes—there's God—so quickly!

Life is all memory except for the one present moment that goes by so quick you can hardly catch it going.

I hope to die in my sleep, when the time comes, and I hope it will be in the beautiful big brass bed in my New Orleans apartment, the bed which is associated with so much love.

Chance, you've gone past something you couldn't afford to go past; your time, your youth, you've passed it. It's all you had and you've had it.

he would die early, since nothing so fair could decline by common degrees in a faded season.

But what was

Their moments together would form a short poem and not a long and lusty novel...

Tienes que vivir cada hora como si fuera la última —dijo Kate— y cada día como si fueras inmortal.

You have to live each hour as if it's your last," she said, "and each day as if you were immortal

La verdad era que algunas cosas dolían demasiado. Y había algunas heridas que no cicatrizaban, ni siquiera en diez años.

My mom used to make everything. She had a great garden and composted and made everything from scratch - peanut butter, bread, jelly, everything. I don't know how she did it because all those things take time and love and labour. I only do half the stuff she does - but there's still time.

Be happy when you don't notice that you're getting old, it means you have had a great life so far.

To remember is not always to go back to what used to be.

There wasn't any other option. The summer was over, and autumn had begun.

Hindsight may be a wonderful thing, but foresight is even better. What a pity, then, that people have foresight only in hindsight.

No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it.' Seneca (c. 4 BCE to 65 AD)

It strikes me that this may be one of the differences between youth and age: when we are young, we invent different futures for ourselves; when we are old, we invent different pasts for others.

I know this much: that there is objective time, but also subjective time, the kind you wear on the inside of your wrist, next to where the pulse lies. And this personal time, which is the true time, is measured in your relationship to memory.

And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability.

In the morning movement is linear, in the afternoon circular, in the evening pendular, at night it retraces, restudies, reobserves, sidling backwards, and in the grey dawn briefly at 5:03 for a second it becomes a point, motionless.

Time in the theatre is real, time in the cinema illusory. The theatre is primary, consequently it is first of all SPACE. The first plays took place in space and in a monumental slice of actual time.

Especially as I was an old friend, or at least I was a person she had known for a long time, which after a certain point is almost the same thing...

The longer one knows people the less relevant it becomes whether or not one liked them initially.