Quotes About Time

Every Dog Has A Day But A Cat Has 365

He agreed with Francis Bacon: Old friends to trust, old wood to burn, old authors to read.

That's the funny thing about old hurts- they just wait for new heartache to come along and then show up, just as sharp and horrible as the first day you woke up with the world changed all around you.

Maybe handling her memory every day for five years had made it fade, like the mortal thing it was.

No matter how much time goes by, missing someone never gets any better. You just learn to work around it.

Theatre is my first love. No matter how tight my schedule may be, for theatre I always find time.

Life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you only spend it once.

There has never been an age that did not applaud the past and lament the present.

I've never been in style, so I can never go out of style.

It is a mark of many famous people that they cannot part with their brightest hour.

Nothing, of course, begins at the time you think it did.

I was so often silent angry with Hammett for making the situation hard on me, not knowing then that the dying do not, should not, be asked to think about anything but their own minute of running time.

I am a grandmother now, and that means age is creeping on, creeping on.

War is hell and waiting is hell and war is waiting.

For a moment all my bees have turned to honey.

But I can't go out with a guy who's written eleven and half pages in three years. That kind of thing is contagious.

I try not to return to these moments very often, for I end up lacerating my young self for not simply kissing the girl. I thought we had time. Despite everything, I believed somehow there was time. Love's first mistake. Perhaps love's only mistake.

I look back on those days and it feels gluttonous, all that time and love and life ahead, no bees in my body and my mother on the other end of the line.

But he did not believe ordinary citizens created art. True art was anomalous; it was a rare mutation. It didn't happen simply because one willed it so. He thought it an utter and exasperating waste of an ordinary man's time.

Despite everything, I believed somehow there was time. Love's first mistake. Perhaps love's only mistake.

It's not here anymore," he said. "What?" "What happened." "Then where is it?" "It's gone. It's over. You can't find it, stroke it, coo over it. Time has stolen it away like it fucking steals everything. In rare instances, like yours, that can be a good thing.

I hate old people. I hate anyone older than my mother, who didn't get to become old.

I didn't want to miss the euphoria. I haven't, have I? You said it happened at the second-month mark.

moment about two months in, when you think you've finally got a handle on the place. Suddenly it feels within your grasp. It's a delusion—you've only been there eight weeks—and it's followed by the complete despair of ever understanding anything. But at that moment the place feels entirely yours. It's the briefest, purest euphoria.