Quotes About Time

You can talk all you want about having a strategy for your life, understanding motivation, and balancing aspirations with unanticipated opportunities. But ultimately, this means nothing if you do not align those with where you actually expend your time, money, and energy.

The trap many people fall into is to allocate their time to whoever screams loudest, and their talent to whatever offers them the fastest reward.

The problem is, lifestyle demands can quickly lock in place the personal resource allocation process.

The logic is, for example, "I can invest in my career during the early years when our children are small and parenting isn't as critical. When our children are a bit older and begin to be interested in things that adults are interested in, then I can lift my foot off my career accelerator. That's when I'll focus on my family." Guess what. By that time the game is already over.

Doctors today are under such pressure to see more patients that they simply don't have the time to spend with drug company salespeople. And doctors are much less dependent upon detailers to learn about drugs: there are alternatives. The Internet enables physicians to search for the right drug, and to refresh their knowledge of its side effect profile and possible interactions with other drugs, even while the patient is in the office.

There comes an age in life when you realize that blaming and regretting are a waste of precious time.

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." —T. S. ELIOT, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

For we thought all the time that we were passing through time when we really weren't, when we never have. We've just been moving along with time. We said, there's another second gone, there's another minute and another hour and another day, when, as a mater of fact the second or the minute or the hour was never gone. It was the same one all the time. It had just moved along and we have moved with it.

Thousands of listeners listening in on the random thoughts of random time and space listening in for clues, for hints, for leads.

The once all-important thing had been buried by more than fifty years of other all-important matters.

The assurance would be there, he thought, the assurance that life had a special place in the great scheme of existence, that one, no matter how small, how feeble, how insignificant, still did count for something in the vast sweep of space and time.

Supongamos que ha viajado usted en el tiempo, hacia el pasado. ¿Para qué? —Para decirle a usted que Sutton regresará. [...] Cuando Sutton regrese —dijo el forastero—, tienen que matarle.

universe in which time and space had been ruled out because time and space were only put there, in the first place, to make it impossible for anyone to grasp the universe.

It's lost time that matters, the time between time, the moments when you forget time and things just happen.

When friends say we'll see you again soon, keep in touch, it means you will never see them again. Friendship is like fire. You have to keep feeding it or the fires goes out.

When friends say we'll see you again soon, keep in touch, it means you will never see them again. Friendship is like fire. You have to keep feeding it or the fire goes out.

The past is dust. It disappears behind us. There is no way back.

Perhaps a wiser eye than hers would be able to read tomorrow in tonight's stars, but where was the fun in that? It was better not to know. Better to be alive in the Here and the Now--in this bright, laughing moment--and let the Hours to come take care of themselves.

Have patience; the lovers will suffer lovers always suffer.

We're both thieves, Harvey Swick. I take time. You take lives. But in the end we're the same: both Thieves of Always.

Funny that. We live in islands of Hours and we never seem to have time enough for anything...

Life was not a reversible commodity. Things passed away, never to return: species, hopes, years.

To every hour, its mystery. At dawn, the riddles of life and light. At noon, the conundrums of solidity. At three, in the hum and heat of the day, a phantom moon, already high. At dusk, memory. And at midnight? Oh, then the enigma of time itself; of a day that will never come again passing into history while we sleep.

Nothing's perfect... because time passes... and the beetle and the worm find their way into everything sooner or later.