Quotes About Time

And to live even a few seconds longer, [...] was infinitely better than to die a moment earlier

All artists bear the imprint of their time, but the great artists are those in whom this is most profoundly marked

You will love again, people say. Give it time. Me with time running out. Day after day of the everyday. What they call real life, made of eighth-inch gauge. Newness strutting around as if it were significant. Irony, neatness and rhyme pretending to be poetry. I want to go back to that time after Michiko's death when I cried every day among the trees. To the real. To the magnitude of pain, of being that much alive.

To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth all the years of sorrow that are to come.

To illustrate: to walk ten miles in an enclosed space of ten feet is not really movement. There are not ten miles of space, only time.

Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.

Sure baby, mañana. It was always mañana. For the next few weeks that was all I heard––mañana a lovely word and one that probably means heaven.

No matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.

It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time.

But they need to worry and betray time with urgencies false and otherwise, purely anxious and whiny, their souls really won't be at peace unless they can latch to an established and proven worry and having once found it they assume facial expressions to fit and go with it, which is, you see, unhappiness, and all the time it all flies by them and they know it and that too worries them no end.

And I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.

I have all the time in the world from life to life to do what is to do, to do what is done, to do the timeless doing.

And then we'll all go off to sweet life, 'cause now is the time and we all know time!

Everything is perfect on the street again, the world is permeated with roses of happiness all the time, but none of us know it. The happiness consists in realizing that it is all a great strange dream.

And as far as I can see the world is too old for us to talk about it with our new words ? We will pass just as quietly through life (passing through, passing through) as the 10th century people of this valley only with a little more noise and a few bridges and dams and bombs that wont even last a million years ? The world being just what it is, moving and passing through, actually alright in the long view and nothing to complain about.

and nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old

and I realized no matter what you do it's bound to be a waste of time in the end so you might as well go mad.

We were all delighted, we all realized we were leaving confusion and nonsense behind and performing our one and noble function of the time, move.

I have all the time in the world from life to life to do what is to do, to do what is done, to do the timeless doing, infinitely perfect within, why cry, why worry, perfect like mind essence and the minds of banana peels.

Because now I am grown so old and neutral....

I will die, and you will die, and we all will die, and even the stars will fade out one after another in time.

We live to long, so long I will

So even that marvelous, long remembrances of life all the time in the world to just sit there or lie there or walk about slowly remembering all the details of life which now because a million lightyears away have taken on the aspect (as they must've for Proust in his sealed room) of pleasant movies brought up at will and projected for further study ? And pleasure ? As I imagine God to be doing this very minute, watching his own movie, which is us.

here we are, by the side of the river - once upon a time we had a notion we were Romeo's.