Quotes About Time

soulsThat we might break these molds And free our restless souls Start to believe That we can rise above Our pettiness and love Like we ain't loved before Free on this earth As the surf that rolls And crashes on the shore And hey now don't run and hide Your little heart away If it's gone We'll sure never find it Pining for lost innocence Tantalisingly I saw Our shadows moving through the door Traces from a different time When I was yours and you were truly mine All mine

The other day a man asked me what I thought was the best time of life. "Why," I answered without a thought, "now."

Life is too brief. I had a friend whom I intended to know better. Yesterday he died.

Only one life 'Twill soon be past Only what's done For Christ will last.

The greatest waste in all of our earth, which cannot be recycled or reclaimed, is our waste of the time that God has given us each day. — BILL GRAHAM, EVANGELIST DO YOU REMEMBER DOILIES?

The passing time is painful. I have lost the art of moving simply, naturally, within it. I am swept back against its flow. Angry, vindictive, it pierces me all the time, all the time with its spikes.

Remember that every person only lives for a short time, and you have to make that time pleasant for him.

Twee mensenvlokjes waren we, een kind en zijn moeder, zwevend in het wereldruim, zes volle jaren lang - ze waren in mijn ogen niet meer dan een paar dagen. We waren als een kinderlied, een rijm van daden en van wonderen - totdat heel zacht een zuchtje wind, een vederlichte bries, een wiekslag van een waaier, in de bladeren blies - en het vonnis velde: jij hiernaartoe, hij daarheen - en daarmee was het uit, in honderdduizend scherven.

c'è chi non si sente soffocare in una stanza dopo cinquant'anni e c'è a chi non basta un'intera nazione.

Il suffisait parfois d'un petit marchandage de rien du tout pour venir à bout des grandes choses - le temps, le destin, Dieu…

Bisognerebbe chiarire una volta per tutte perché "un momento brutto" può andare avanti per mesi, mentre un momento di grazia dura sempre e soltanto un momento.

Ben remembered that in Italy, he and Rachel had slipped down between rows of apple trees on the plain of the Po, deep into the cool and dark of orchards, and there they had kissed with the sadness of newlyweds who know that their kisses are too poignantly tender and that their good fortune is subject, like all things, to the crush of time, which remorselessly obliterates what is most desired and pervades all that is beautiful.

She was young and scared, and hadn't realized there was time to spare.

Mohr was one of the most talented people on the staff of Time, in print as well as in person—the two are often different.

Until he (Time's founder Henry Luce) arrived, news was crime and politics.

Lippmann was very good at staying young, at not aging and becoming a prisoner of his past experiences.

Hughes might discuss Calvinism ably, but he did not live it, he was—by Time corporate standards—just a little lazy.

The faster the motion, the less time to think. Fuselage journalism, Hugh Sidey of Time later called it.

Capital takes away the autonomy of our time and makes it impossible for large segments of the population to leave the realm of necessity behind. In fact, the largest segment of the population is struggling hard to get access to basic necessities, which means that they have a very restricted capacity and time for freedom of expression.

Marx's critique of free markets and free trade can shed as much devastating light on our own actually existing capitalism as it did for the capitalism of Marx's own time and place.

Not only must weapons be bought and paid for out of surpluses of capital and labour, but they must also be put to use. For this is the only means that capitalism has at its disposal to achieve the level of devaluation now required. The idea is dreadful in its implications. What better reason could there be to declare that it is time for capitalism to be gone, to give way to some saner mode of production?

The answer is not more hours, it's less bullshit.

It was necessary to invent history in order to invent the future. The sense of necessity in Cromwell and Lenin (and even in Jefferson) springs from an obsession with time, change, an obsession with cause and effect that starts to make the effect seem like the cause of its own cause. The future is the cause of the past, and we play antiquarian games to reassure ourselves that the past is past and different so that we can believe that the future will be different too.

Tomorrow and tomorrow come creeping in and always will. We're fools trapped in a mechanism of our own unconscious making. Shadows strutting and fretting for one brief hour upon a stage, then heard no more. I'll weep an ocean in my heart, if the world would give me time. But not now.