Quotes About Time

If the years of youth are experienced slowly, while the later years of life hurtle past at an ever-increasing speed, it must be habit that causes it. We know full well that the insertion of new habits or the changing of old ones is the only way to preserve life, to renew our sense of time, to rejuvenate, intensify, and retard our experience of time—and thereby renew our sense of life itself. That is the reason for every change of scenery and air..

Time has no divisions to mark its passage, there is never a thunder-storm or blare of trumpets to announce the beginning of a new month or year. Even when a new century begins it is only we mortals who ring bells and fire off pistols.

Music awakens time, awakens us to our finest enjoyment of time.

Time drowns in the unmeasured monotony of space. Where uniformity reigns, movement from point to point is no longer movement; and where movement is no longer movement, there is no time.

Is not the pastness of the past the more profound, the more legendary, the more immediately it falls before the present ?

Space, like time, gives birth to forgetfulness, but does so by removing an individual from all relationships and placing him in a free and pristine state--indeed, in but a moment it can turn a pedant and philistine into something like a vagabond. Time, they say, is water from the river Lethe, but alien air is a similar drink; and if its effects are less profound, it works all the more quickly.

The little hand on time's clock trips away as though measuring seconds; but God knows how much time it is covering when it whisks round heedless of the divisions it passes over! So much is certain, that we have been up here for years. Our brains reel, surely this is an evil dream, though dreamed with nor hashish nor opium; a censor of morals would rebuke us for it.

One could say that someone who does nothing but wait is like a glutton whose digestive system processes great masses of food without extracting any useful nourishment. One could go further and say that just as undigested food does not strengthen a man, time spent in waiting does not age him.

Deep is the well of the past. Should we not call it bottomless?

A man lives not only his personal life, as an individual, but also, consciously or unconsciously, the life of his epoch and his contemporaries.

One can say that he consumed one whole week waiting for the return of that single hour every seven days—and waiting means racing ahead, means seeing time and the present not as a gift, but as a barrier, denying and negating their value, vaulting over them in your mind. Waiting, people say, is boring. But in actuality, it can just as easily be diverting, because it devours quantities of time without our ever experiencing or using them for their own sake.

Il bene viene sempre troppo tardi, diventa realtà troppo tardi, quando non si è più capaci di goderne.

Al igual que el tiempo, el espacio trae consigo el olvido; aunque lo hace desprendiendo a la persona humana de sus contingencias para transportarla a un estado de libertad originaria; incluso del pedante y el burgués hace, de un solo golpe, una especie de vagabundo. El tiempo, según dicen, es Lete, el olvido; pero también el aire de la distancia es un bebedizo semejante, y si bien su efecto es menos radical, cierto es que es mucho más rápido.

Verhalen horen zich in het verleden af te spelen, en hoe verder het verleden, zou men kunnen zeggen, des te beter voor ze, in hun hoedanigheid van verhalen, én voor de verteller, wiens gemurmel de onvoltooid verleden tijd bezweert.

Wrapped in his coat, a book in his lap, the traveler took his ease, the hours slipping by unnoticed.

These artists pay little attention to an encircling present that bears no direct relation to the world of work in which they live, and they therefore see in it nothing more than an indifferent framework for life, either more or less favorable to production.

Narrative, however, has two kinds of time: first, its own real time, which like musical time defines its movement and presentation; and second, the time of its contents, which has a perspective quality that can vary widely, from a story in which the narrative's imaginary time is almost, or indeed totally coincident with its musical time, to one in which it stretches over light-years.

what time actually is--nothing less than a silent sister, a column of mercury without a scale, for the purpose of keeping people from cheating.

Der Sommer hat angefangen und schon neigt er sich dem Ende zu.

Você segue e segue mais adiante…e de uma caminhada como essa jamais voltará a tempo, pois você escapa ao tempo e o tempo escapa de você.

He was young and had been rough with time, listening to its bad advice he had made mistakes, had compromised himself, had trespassed against good behavior and prudence, both in his words and works.

All the days are nothing but the same day repeating itself—or rather, since it is always the same day, it is incorrect to speak of repetition; a continuous present, an identity, an everlastingness—such words as these would better convey the idea.

Il vivait vite comme un mécanisme d'horloge qui se défend, il franchissait au galop les âges qu'il ne lui était pas accordé d'atteindre dans le temps, et durant les dernières vingt-quatre heures, il devint un vieillard.

Dobrze wiemy, ?e odzwyczajenie siÄ™ i przyzwyczajenie do czegos nowego jest jedynym Å›rodkiem, który utrzymuje nasze ?ycie, odÅ›wie?a nasz zmysÅ' czasu -- jedynym, dziÄ™ki któremu mo?emy odmÅ'odzi?, wzmocni?, zwolni? nasze prze?ywanie czasu i tym samym odnowi? nasze poczucie ?ycia w ogóle.