Quotes About Time

I spend a good deal of time wondering how we will seem to the people who come after us. This is not an idle interest, but a deliberate attempt to strengthen the power of that "other eye," which we can use to judge ourselves.

From time to time the emotional lightning flashed and showed a landscape of private misery, and then -- we went on dancing.

It was all nonsense to see things in terms of peaks and crises: the personal events, like the public ones, were long-term affairs, after all. They built up.... It is after--at least months, but it is usually years--that a person will say, My God, my whole life has changed, talking about a passion of love or hate, a marriage, a testing job of work. My life has changed because I have changed.

The extravagant and ostentatious lifestyles that pass for charisma in a time when almost anybody talks about charisma but if you think about it there's precious little to be seen.

We spend our days in deliberating, and we end them without coming to any resolve.

Marxism does not provide any specific method of solving questions that Marx did not put to himself or that did not exist in his time. If his life had been prolonged for ninety years he would have had to alter his views in ways that we have no means of conjecturing.

Sabe que dia é hoje, mãe? — Que dia, meu filho? — Dia vinte de setembro. Faz um ano que a revolução começou. D. Ana olhou as mãos caídas sobre o colo, lívidas. Fazia um ano. Um ano inteiro de ansiedades e esperas. — A gente aprende a não sentir o tempo, meu filho. Senão, acaba enlouquecendo.

The past was once the future, and it wrought In the high presence of on-looking thought ; All that we have, was by its efforts brought.

The power of young Joy, like that of young Love, does not travel far on the dusty road of life in general.

THE present! it is but a drop from the sea In the mighty depths of eternity. I love it not—it taketh its birth Too near to the dull and the common earth.

It is tomorrow that fills men with dread. God is there already. All the tomorrows of our life have to pass Him before they can get to us. F. B. M.

God is there already. All the tomorrows of our life have to pass Him before they can get to us. F. B. M.

And I'm not as young as I once was. At my age, I don't have time to be bored.

Julia would do anything to make the time pass. She killed time, murdered it, massacred it and hid the bodies. She threw her days in bunches onto the bonfire with both hands and watched them go up in fragrant smoke. It wasn't easy. Sometimes it felt like the hours had ground to a halt. They fought her as they passed, one after the other, like stubborn stools.

We have lived too long. The great days are past.

When she looked back the whole thing had a queer, unreal feeling to it, but then again you often get a queer, unreal feeling when you stay up till four and get up at seven.

Death was an existential catastrophe, a rip in the soft upholstery with which humanity padded over a hard uncaring universe, but it turned out there were an amazing number of people whose job it was to deal with it for you, and all they asked in return were huge quantities of time and money.

Plover's words were like dried flowers, stiff and crumbling, crushed flat between pages, when we'd had the living, blooming blossoms all around

June ripened into July, then burst and withered and dried and became August.

Age is wasted on the young. Just like youth.

She swore she could prove it mathematically, but the calculations required were so involved that they would have required a computer the size of the universe, running for a length of time that would have taken them past the projected heat-death of the universe, to work them out. It was pretty much the definition of moot.

I thought about what time is, how we're broken every second, we're losing moments all the time, leaking them away like a stuffed animal losing its stuffing, until one day they're gone an we lose everything. Forever. And then, at the same time, we're gaining seconds, moment after moment. Every one is a gift, until at the end of our lives we're sitting on a rich hoard of moments. Rich beyond imaging. Time was both those things at once.

he'd fantasized about having nothing to do except lie on his bed and sleep and stare into space, but now those empty hours were here, and they were getting old amazingly fast.

It wasn't time yet. You'll find it again, if you look hard enough.