Quotes About Time

How long that part of the cycle had lasted he did not now know; nothing had happened, generally, so it had been measureless.

Life is short, he thought. Art, or something not life, is long, stretching out endless, like concrete worm. Flat, white, unsmoothed by any passage over or across it. Here I stand. But no longer. Taking the small box, he put the Edfrank jewellery piece away in his coat pocket.

Die Güte, but not good men, this good man. It is their sense of space and time. They see through the here, the now, into the vast black deep beyond, the unchanging. And that is fatal to life.

Eventually he forgot what event had started off his decline into entropy; God mercifully occludes us to the past as well as the future.

What is the space which this speaks of? Vertical ascent. To heaven. Of time? Into the light-world of the mutable. Yes, this thing has disgorged its spirit: light. And my attention is fixed; I can't look away. Spellbound by mesmerizing shimmering surface which I can no longer control. No longer free to dismiss.

I finally found a setting for despair…So I put it on my schedule for twice a month; I think that's a reasonable amount of time to feel hopeless about everything...

strictly speaking, the ability to travel through time . . . for instance, she can't go into the future. In a certain sense, she can't go into the past either; what she does, as near as I can comprehend it, is start a counter-process that uncovers the prior stages inherent in configurations of matter. But

It is their sense of space and time. They see through the here, the now, into the vast black deep beyond, the unchanging. And that is fatal to life. Because eventually there will be no life; there was once only the dust particles in space, the hot hydrogen gases, nothing more, and it will come again. This is an interval, ein Augenblick.

The end times were not the end times after all. The end times were always coming but never here, always nearby and influencing us but never realized.

Herr Konsul, sorry to take your time." A man's voice. The blood in Reiss' veins instantly stopped its motion.

I've been waiting a long time for last year. But I guess it's just not coming again.

When the senile patient awakens in the morning and asks for his mother, remind him that she is long since dead, that he is over eighty years old and living in a convalescent home, and that this is 1992 and not 1913 and that he must face reality and the fact that

Rachael said, "Do you know what the lifespan of a humanoid robot such as myself is? I've been in existence two years. How long do you calculate I have?" After a hesitation he said, "About two more years." "They never could solve that problem. I mean cell replacement. Perpetual or anyhow semi-perpetual renewal. Well, so it goes.

Retrograde time is forward time which has passed the turning point; then as it turns back it is freighted with the load of accumulated knowledge. It is information rich. Logically, then, in its retrograde tracking, it would divest itself of its knowledge: teach rather than learn, so that when it arrived at the other end, it would be information poor, even info empty.

For them, winter had come.

The universe is information and we are stationary in it, not three-dimensional and not space time. The information fed to us we hypostatize into the phenomenal world.

All we know is that things happen. More accurately, God is the urging-forward force within all things, and all things (if "things" can be spoken of at all) are alive. The ontological matrix is a way in which His urging or thinking is manifested; so in that respect I think it's not time which moves forward, carrying us with it like a great tide, but that we are driven forward all of us together, animate and inanimate.

This rehearsal will end, the performance will end, the singers will die, eventually the last score of music will be destroyed in one wya or another; finally the name Mozart will vanish, the dust will have won. If not on this planet then another. We can evade it awhile.

Ubik talks to us from the future, from the end state to which everything is moving; thus Ubik is not here—which is to say now—but will be

The deeds of the heroes, in the sacred dream-time...the only time, according to the bushmen, that was real.

Ve sonunda üzüntünün program?n? buldum." Karanl?k ve küstah bir havaya bürünen yüzü sanki büyük bir zafer kazanm??ças?na tatminkârd?. "Ve her ay iki kez olmak üzere program?ma bu numaray? da katt?m. Bence ayda iki kez olan biten her ÅŸeye üzülmek için yeterli bir süre, sence de öyle deÄŸil mi?

most horrid sound in the world, that of the once-was: alive in the past, perishing in the present, a corpse made of dust in the future.

El tiempo, ay, daba prisa a los hombres.

The pot was unusual in one way, however. In it slumbered God. He slumbered in the pot for a long time, for almost too long. There is a theory among some religions that God intervenes at the eleventh hour. Maybe that is so; I couldn't say. In Horselover Fat's case God waited until three minutes before twelve, and even then what he did was barely enough: barely enough and virtually too late.