Quotes About Time

Time the destroyer is time the preserver.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and backTurn upward from the desk, when the human engine waitsLike a taxi throbbing waiting,I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives.

The great poet, in writing himself, writes his time.

I don't believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates.

RedeemThe time. RedeemThe unread vision in the higher dreamWhile jeweled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

Home is where one starts from. As we grow olderThe world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicatedOf dead and living. Not the intense momentIsolated, with no before and after,But a lifetime burning in every momentAnd not the lifetime of one man onlyBut of old stones that cannot be deciphered.

What is the late November doingWith the disturbance of the spring.

Sudden in a shaft of sunlightEven while the dust movesThere rises the hidden laughterOf children in the foliageQuick now, here, now, always—Ridiculous the waste sad timeStretching before and after.

Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swellAnd the profit and loss.

At the still point of the turning world.Neither flesh nor fleshless.

But at my back from time to time I hearThe sound of horns and motors, which shall bringSweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.O the moon shone bright on Mrs. PorterAnd on her daughterThey wash their feet in soda water.

Hurry up please its time.

For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice.

It is a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome.

Someone said, "The dead writers are remote from us because we know so much more than they did." Precisely, and they are that which we know.

A cold coming we had of it,Just the worst time of the year.

Keeping time,Keeping the rhythm in their dancingAs in their living in the living seasonsThe time of the seasons and the constellationsThe time of milking and the time of harvestThe time of the coupling of man and womanAnd that of beasts. Feet rising and falling.Eating and drinking. Dung and death.

Poetry should help, not only to refine the language of the time, but to prevent it from changing too rapidly.

And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"

There will be time to murder and create.

Some say "The end is near," as if that is shocking news. The truth is, the end is always near. What is actually shocking is that we, ourselves, can help to choose which end.

He is a mysterious and captivating fellow, this wizard who can live backward in time…

God's response is simple. Anything that is made well is made slowly.

A father is an image of a young man's destiny, a living testimony of what time may bring to pass.