Quotes About Time

There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 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.

Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!

great while ago the world began,      With hey-ho, the wind and the rain;   But that's all one, our play is done,      And we'll strive to please you every day.     Exit

Afore me! It is so very late, That we may call it early by and by.

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?

That will be ere the set of sun.

CAPULET: ...Well, we were born to die.

O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue If England to itself do rest but true.

How now? Even so quickly may one catch the plague?

How many things by season season'd are, To their right praise and true perfection!

Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? TITUS ANDRONICUS: Ha, ha, ha! MARCUS ANDRONICUS: Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. TITUS ANDRONICUS: Why, I have not another tear to shed:

a girl takes too much time to love and a few seconds to hate. but a boy takes a few seconds to love and too much time to hate.

Return'd so soon! Rather approached too late: the capron burns, the pig falls from the spit, the clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; my mistress made it one upon my cheek: she is hot because the meat is cold; the meat is cold because you have no stomach, you have no stomach, having broke your fast; but we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray, are pentent for your default today.

Tis not a year or two shows us a man. They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us.

Had I but died an hour before this chance I had lived a blessed time; for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality.             All is but toys, renown and grace is dead, The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.

For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times, Turning the accomplishment of many years Into an hour-glass: for the which supply, Admit me Chorus to this history; Who prologue-like your humble patience pray, Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

What time o' day? ROSALINE: The hour that fools should ask.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong: To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, To change your day of youth to sullied night; And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you I engraft you new.

Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits. The flighty purpose never is o'ertook Unless the deed go with it. From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done

Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager Long withering out a young man revenue.

The oldest hath borne most; we that are young Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

I'll so offend, to make offence a skill, Redeeming time when men think least I will.