Quotes About Time

He began to play Yesterday, an old Beatles song.

Ivy could have pointed out that their eldest sister rarely got to spend time with their parents, but Shelly knew that.

Marcel Proust wrote in Time Regained: "An hour is not merely an hour, it is a vase filled with perfumes, sounds, projects, and climates." Every hour my nose is filled with nature's fresh perfume. —DB

Forty-five might seem old to you now, but I promise you it isn't. I'm not yet half as old as my grandmother was when she passed away. I hope I still have a lot of living to do.

I am only mortal, desperate, urgent. Spirits have endless ages in which to do nothing, if they so choose, but humans have death to hurry them on. Near or far, the end is always in sight. We have no time to stand and stare. Make your choice, Fernanda.

Time is there for a purpose, to keep things in order. Once you change chronology you change history. The past could eat up the present . . .

A week was what she wanted: a nice manageable chunk of time with a beginning, a middle, and an end, containing, if desired, a space for each of the wonders of the world, the champions of Christendom, the deadly sins, or the colours of the rainbow. (Monday was definitely yellow, Thursday a dull indigo, Friday violet. About the others she didn't feel so strongly.)

In the convex driving-mirror she could see, dwindling rapidly, the patch of road where they had stood; and she wondered why it had never occurred to her before that you cannot successfully navigate the future unless you keep always framed beside it a small clear image of the past.

Another thing they had gained was an appreciation of the value of dulness. As a rule, one tended to long for more drama, to feel that the level stretches of life between its high peaks were a waste of time. Well, there had been enough drama lately. They had lived through seven years in as many days;

As the past disappears, I keep getting lost.

this lovely paraphrase on me from St. Teresa:   Place yourself in the presence of Christ. Don't wear yourself out thinking. Simply speak with your Beloved. Delight in him. Lay your needs at his feet. Acknowledge that he doesn't have to allow you in his presence. (But he does!) There is a time for thinking, And a time for being. Be. With him.

Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.

It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;—it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others.

when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.

Time will explain.

Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death.

There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.

Every moment has its pleasures and its hope.

Oh! Do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.

We certainly do not forget you, so soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves.

Life could do nothing for her, beyond giving time for a better preparation for death.

It was a delightful visit;-perfect, in being much too short.

My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them??by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.

Of course I love her, but there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time.