Quotes About Time

even the Pyramids and other "great works" were as ephemeral as a castle of sand on the beach at Brighton.

It was late morning when Kassad finished his story.

takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature

Among us we represent islands of time as well as separate oceans of perspective.

Tempus edax rerum.

My days were but heartbeats to you. I hated you for that.

I have lov'd the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remember'd.

Life is brutal that way Ã¢â'¬Â¦ the loss of irrecoverable moments amid trivia and distraction.

Among us we represent islands of time as well as separate oceans of perspective. Or perhaps more aptly put, each of us may hold a piece to a puzzle no one else has been able to solve since humankind first landed on Hyperion.

Doomed with enfeebled carcass to outstretch His loathed existence through ten centuries

Our apartment was filled with photos of us, notes I wrote to myself about us, holos of us on Hyperion, but Ã¢â'¬Â¦ you know. In the morning he would be an absolute stranger. By afternoon I began to believe what we'd had, even if I couldn't remember. By evening I'd be crying in his arms Ã¢â'¬Â¦ then, sooner or later, I'd go to sleep. It's better this way." Rachel

the essence of human experience lay not primarily in the peak experiences, the wedding days and triumphs which stood out in the memory like dates circled in red on old calendars, but, rather, in the unselfconscious flow of little things – the weekend afternoon with each member of the family engaged in his or her own pursuit, their crossings and connections casual, dialogues imminently forgettable, but the sum of such hours creating a synergy which was important and eternal.

There will be no more offerings, neither child nor parent. There will be no more sacrifices. The time of obedience and atonement is past. Either help us as a friend, or go away!

But love...of whom? I say at last. Of what? What great passion would forestall death? Her graceful eyebrow arches, You do not know? You, a poet? I do not know. I say as much. She leans forward so that I can hear the rustle of her starched cotton blouse and silk beneath. Our faces are so close that I can feel the warmth from her skin. Then you need more time to learn, she whispers, her voice as filled with emotion as when she cried out last night.

Even if it all fails, it was worth the time," Saul Laski said softly. "The powerful have received their share of the world's attention even when their power has been shown as sheer evil. The victims remain the faceless masses. Numbers. Mass graves. These monsters have fertilized our century with the mass graves of their victims and it is time that the powerless had names and faces—and voices.

I love life, Eleanor. It is that simple. Had I the choice, I would live forever, accepting pain and loss as my due and learning--across time--even to appreciate the sharp seasoning of this sadness.

Sol had spent his life willing the return of things unreturnable. He remembered the day he had come upon Sarai folding Rachel's toddler clothes and setting them in a box in the attic, and he recalled her tears and his own sense of loss for the child they still had but who was lost to them through the simple arrow of time. Sol

Silenus's true age might be anywhere from ninety to a hundred and fifty standard years. If he were close to the latter age, the Consul knew, the odds were that the poet was quite mad. As

There is a war up there where time creaks which spans galaxies and eons back and forward to the Big Bang and the Final Implosion\

Planck time and Planck length," I said. "I don't remember exactly—something about combining the three fundamental constants of physics—gravity, Planck's constant, and the speed of light. I remember it gave some tiny little units of length and time.

It isn't hard being a hack writer. Between Dying Earth II and Dying Earth IX, six standard years had passed relatively painlessly. My research was meager, my plots formulaic, my characters cardboard, my prose preliterate, and my free time was my own.

I don't believe in God with a capital G and, despite their obvious solidity, I don't believe in the gods with their small g's. Not as real forces in the universe. But I believe in the bitch-goddess Irony. She crosses all time. She rules men and gods and God alike.

So many important things pass quickly without being understood at the time. So many powerful moments are buried beneath the absurd

But I bet it's more complicated than that. There're places of power—yeah—no doubt about that. But it's like we were talking about last night. You have to help make them. You have to be in the right place at the right time and know it. How do you know it? asked Baedecker. By dreaming about it but not thinking about it, Dave said.