Quotes About Time

So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time: And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair To extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. -Sonnet 73

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!

Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in. You rub the sore When you should bring the plaster.

life is too short, so live your life to the fullest..every second of your life just treasure it..

I am glad I was up so late, for that's the reason I was up so early.

Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

And too soon Marred are those so early Made.

We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

O that a man might know The end of this day's business ere it come! But it sufficeth that the day will end And then the end is known.

agar vaght ra talaf konid zamani fara miresad ke vaght shoma ra talaf mikonad.

Passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extremes sweet.

How now, my sweet creature of bombast! How long is't ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thien own knee?

More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

Alas, that they are so! To die even when they to perfection grow!

Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; Too swift as tardy as too slow.

For you and I are past our dancing days

to early seen unknown...and known to late

There is plenty of time to sleep in the grave

How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.