Quotes About Time

When the bones are all gone who lives in the final dust? Cuando ya se fueron los huesos quien vive en el polvo final?

Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

Longing that sliced my breast into pieces, it is time to take another road, on which she does not smile. Storm that buried the bells, muddy swirl of torments, why touch her now, why make her sad. Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything, without anguish, death, winter waiting along it with their eyes open through the dew.

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short; forgetting is so long.

How much does a man live, after all? Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries? How long does a man spend dying? What does it mean to say 'for ever'?

I go from loving to not loving you From waiting to not waiting

Tai kiek gyvena zmogus? Tukstanti metu ar vienus? Gyvena savaite ar keleta amziu? Kiek laiko mirsta zmogus? Ka reiskia amzinybe?

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

He vivido tanto que un día tendrán que olvidarme por fuerza.

And that's how it was, that night, shadow and space, earth and time, something that runs and falls and passes. And that's how all the nights go over the earth, leaving only a vague black odor. A leaf falls, a drop on the earth muffles its sound, the forest sleeps, the waters, the meadows, the bells, the eyes. I hear you and you breathe, my love, we sleep.

Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido

Longing that sliced my breast into pieces, it is time to take another road, on which she does not smile. Storm that buried the bells, muddy swirl of torments, why touch her now, why make her sad.

Love, what does it matter that time, the very time that raised two flames, two waving heads of wheat, my body and your gentleness, tomorrow will hold them safe or mill the grain, and with those same unseen fingers erase the identities that separate us, giving us the final victory of being one beneath the ground. — Pablo Neruda, from "Ode to Time," Selected Odes of Pablo Neruda (California Press, 1990)

Le raffinement culinaire était l'orgueil suprême des trois soeurs ; la table représentait pour elles la conservation d'un héritage sacré, d'une culture aux terres de laquelle elles ne reviendraient plus, écartées de leur patrie par le temps et par des mers immenses. J'avoue que j'ai vécu

Love us so short; forgetting is so long

We had, as men, time So our thirst could slowly be satisfied, the ancestral longing to enumerate things and sum them up, to render them into dust, dunes of numbers

N-o mai iubesc, asta-i sigur, dar poate înc? o iubesc. Iubirea e atât de scurt?, ÅŸi-atât de lung? e uitarea.

Pamtim kakva si bila one posljednje jeseni..

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body, Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us, The light of each day, its flame or its repose, they deliver to us, taking them from time, and so our treasure is disinterred in shadow or light, and so our kisses kiss life: all love is enclosed in our love: all thirst ends in our embrace. Here we are at last face to face, we have met, we have lost nothing.

Ah! suivre le chemin qui s'éloigne de tout, que ne fermeront pas la mort, l'hiver, l'angoisse avec leurs yeux ouverts au coeur de la rosée

How much does a man live after all? Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries? How long does a man spend dying? What does it mean to say for ever?

We don't grow older we grow riper.

It took me a lifetime.