Quotes About Time

Time will scar my wound and I'll emerge from my fugue tougher, if not healed.

Stunned, she looked down. Up. Down. Up again. Slowly. "Take your time, lass," he murmured, so softly she scarcely heard him. His next comment was deliberately beyond her audible range, a silky "I plan to with you.

And he would never have instructed her to tell his past self such a story and expected himself to believe it.

Wither thou goest, there goest I, two flames sparked from but one ember; both forward and backward doth time fly, wither thou art, remember.

The worst part about losing someone you love—besides the agony of never getting to see them again—are the things you never said. The unsaid stalks you, mocks you for thinking you had all the time in the world. None of us do.

Kindness and cruelty. He'll get that in bed next time. Dark laughter rolls. "Bring it on.

Sonsuz hayat sonsuz sab?r gerektirir. Yeterince uzun yaÅŸarsan, bugün ilgini çekiyorsa bugünün iyi olduÄŸunu düÅŸünebilirsin. Yanl?? veya doÄŸru, bütün ahlaki deÄŸerler, bütün erdemler yok olabilir.

He, who had once been whole, was halved, without hope of ever being complete again. And when you've known that kind of love, to endure the creeping passage of time without it is to live a half-life where nothing ever feels real.

The heart has its own mind, measures its own time, and if it consults with the brain, doesn't always heed the advice. My brain was screaming—stop hurting already. To a deaf audience.

Dude, you gotta hug it with both arms and legs and hold on tight! The present is all we've got. That's why they call it a present!

When do these three days expire?" "That's what really pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague." Barrons looked at me, then a faint smile curved his lips, and for a moment I thought he might laugh. "The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it." "My sentiments exactly.

Time does not define the act. Time is impartial; it neither condemns nor absolves. The action contains intent, and intent is where the definition lies.

Oh, God, Drustan, she thought, you didn't go back in time. You sent me back to save you!

There aren't many crimes in my book. Not many sins either. But top on both of those lists is killing time. Have fun with it, make something cool, play video games, work hard if you feel like it, but do something. Killed time is an abortion, life that never gets lived, gone, just gone.

Turn back time to half-past innocence. But that clock's lying on its side, hour hand spinning wildly, in a dirty Dublin alley near a gold makeup pouch half concealed by trash, and an address carved in stone by a dying woman. Broken.

Procrastinating is number three on my Stupid List. You still end up exactly where you didn't want to be, doing exactly what you didn't want to do, with the only difference being that you lost all that time in between, during which you could have been doing something fun. Even worse, you probably stayed in a stressed-out, crappy mood the whole time you were avoiding it. If you know something is inevitable, do it and get it over with. Move on. Life is short.

TIME IS THE ONLY TRUE GOD, AND I AM FOREVER. THEREFORE, I AM GOD. Your logic is flawed. Time is not forever. It is always. Past, Present, and Future. There was a time in the past when you did not exist. Therefore, you are not God. I CREATE. I DESTROY. With the whimsy of a spoiled child. YOU FAIL TO DIVINE THE MASTER DESIGN. EVEN THAT WHICH YOU CALL CHAOS HAS PATTERN AND PURPOSE.

I couldn't believe I'd so completely lost track of time, but I'd had monsters to fight, a police interrogation to deal with, a graveyard to search, my dad to send home, a mobster's brother's death to avert, a new job to learn, and an illegal auction to attend. It was a wonder I got anything done, really.

Evil, good, create, destroy. Puny minds. Puny caves. Time, MacKayla. Time absolves. "Time does not define the act. Time is impartial; it neither condemns nor absolves. The action contains intent, and intent is where the definition lies.

When you live as long as we do, you find yourself in bed with women you watched get born. It's weird and not at the same time.

Because what he showed me is that he sees the same things in her I do. He knows she's worth waiting for. And when it's time, he intends to be the one. That's why he's keeping her close. To those of us who live forever, a few years isn't long to wait.

Liminal sucks. You can't grasp it with your hands and shape it. You can't make midnight come faster, or grow up sooner, or avoid the in-betweens. You can only hang in there, and get through them.

I stare at him through the dim light as instant lust eclipses anger, will, time, place.

This moment is perfect. And it's all we ever have. This moment, right now. We're fools if we fail to cram all the living and loving we can possibly do into each and every one.