Quotes About Time

Y los detalles se gastan, se echan a perder si uno los lleva consigo sin utilizarlos durante mucho tiempo. No sólo los detalles sino todo, todas las ocurrencias y las ideas.

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning.

Life's got to be lived, no matter how long or short

Waktulah satu-satunya yang kita miliki dalam jumlah yang banyak.

You don't have to live forever, you just have to live.

Life's got to be lived, no matter how long or short.

You don't have to live forever, you just have to live.

Fixed points they are, and best left undisturbed, for without them, nothing holds together. But sometimes people find this out too late.

NÄ—ra gyvenimo be mirties. Taigi mes negalime sakyti, kad gyvename. Mes tiesiog 'esame'...

Life's got to be lived, no matter how long or short, she said calmly. You got to take what comes. We just go along, like everybody else, one day at a time.

Life's got to be lived, no matter how long or short," she said calmly. "You got to take what comes. We just go along, like everybody else, one day at a time.

The first week of August was long over. And now, though autumn was still some weeks away, there was a feeling that the year had begun its downward arc, that the wheel was turning again, slowly now, but soon to go faster, turning once more in its changeless sweep of change.

Time engraves our faces with all the tears we have not shed.

Youth is not a question of years: one is young or old from birth.

Every time I want to give up on him, there's always something inside telling me to just give it time.

What's left is palimpsest—one memory bleeding into another, overwriting it.

Memory knows before knowing remembers," William Faulkner wrote.

And here his descendants have been born and died, and have mingled their earthly substance with the soil, until no small portion of it necessarily be akin to the mortal frame where with, for a little while, I walk the streets

And there I sat, long long ago, waiting for the world to know me.

Is it a fact – or have I dreamt it – that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?

To-morrow would bring its own trial with it; so would the next day, and so would the next; each its own trial, and yet the very same that was now so unutterably grievous to be borne. The days of the far-off future would toil onward, still with the same burden for her to take up, and bear along with her, but never to fling down; for the accumulating days, and added years, would pile up their misery upon the heap of shame.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

Tradition,—which sometimes brings down truth that history has let slip, but is oftener the wild babble of the time, such as was formerly spoken at the fireside and now congeals in newspapers,—tradition is responsible for all contrary averments.

His error lay in supposing that this age, more than any past or future one, is destined to see the tattered garments of Antiquity exchanged for a new suit, instead of gradually renewing themselves by patchwork; in applying his own little life span as the measure of an interminable acheivement; and, more than all, in fancying that it mattered anything to the great end in view whether he himself should contend for it or against it.