Quotes About Time

If this formulation appears to be overly analytical and to ignore the mysterious process of "falling in love," that is because in my experience the "chemistry" that causes us to choose one person over all other possibilities can be seen in retrospect as a combination of readiness, lust, and hope rather than an indefinable but powerful union of two souls. I would be more ready to believe in the latter if there was more evidence of its persistence over time.

Only bad things happen quickly, . . . Virtually all the happiness-producing processes in our lives take time, usually a long time: learning new things, changing old behaviors, building satisfying relationships, raising children. This is why patience and determination are among life's primary virtues.

Today, many people write about burnout. Why didn't Jesus burn out? I think the answer rests in three simple principles: Jesus measured all investments of time against his purpose, he took time for solitude with the Father, and he didn't try to do too much.

they're blinded by the limited focus of their attitudes toward time and history. They only look as far as their own lifetime. No, they don't even look that far. They only look at how things are for their own generation.

There's a bond among a kitchen staff, I think. You spend more time with your chef in the kitchen than you do with your own family.

History is the queen of the humanities. It teaches wisdom and humility, and it tells us how things change through time.

In youth the days are short and the years are long; in old age the years are short and the days long.

Then autumn comes, with its first flush of youth gone, but ripe and mellow, midway in time between youth and age, with sprinkled grey showing on the temples.

Age breeds aches.

Where did the time go? Yesterday, I was a girl, and today, I suddenly find myself in the autumn of my years with the cold winds of winter breathing down my neck.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away...

I admire and respect those unique and positive individuals who can "age without aging." The number of times a heart beats is not as important as its tempo and rhythm.

Middle age — a stealthy, crafty nemesis.

Aging is an exponential clock — ticking in runaway years.

Old men are like the wrecks of time, thrown by the waves of one century upon the shores of another.

Age composes poems upon our faces — with more meaning and fewer rhymes every passing year

Old Father Time fox-trots across my golden locks!

We must grow old! The years go by, Sometimes on wings they seem to fly; But why such haste? We know not why! We only know that we grow old!... The broken links of life's short chain Can never find their place again... Into the dark unknown we take The hopes misfortune could not shake, Pure as the mountain's snowy flake, Where all is well—when we are old.

With each passing year, the body turns more prison than shelter.

Aging is closer to ashes — but also to stardust.

Does age poison us, or do we poison age?

Age swallows our childhood.

Middle age is a winding path through kaleidoscopic years.

Age is a prison we cannot escape but only by death into another world