Quotes About Time

Let's do it right. This is for the ages.

The bomb lives only as it is falling.

I'm saying with very few exceptions nothing lasts forever, and amongst those exceptions, no work or thought of man is numbered.

In addition, we have those who, while recognizing the Bible as a revelation from God, blunt its message by applying it to a time other than our own. This may take the form of an eschatologically overworked imagination, which pushes the significance of the Bible into the future. On this approach, the Bible is seen as a source book for end-times prophecies rather than a message that speaks to us in our everyday life.

In my small way, I preserved and catalogued, and dipped into the vast ocean of learning that awaited, knowing all the time that the life of one man was insufficient for even the smallest part of the wonders that lay within. It is cruel that we are granted the desire to know, but denied the time to do so properly. We all die frustrated; it is the greatest lesson we have to learn.

The faster we walk, the more ground we lose.

Light is all memory.

You can be so much in a room that the world outside turns to water. You've got the heater blowing out burnt air, but you still don't get warm. Your ankles are singed, but your head's in a bucket of ice. Time drips like a stalactite. The water for the coffee boils away in a tree of steam.

We are what we believe we are at given times.

We play the contest again, Time Lord.

Hope...which is whispered from Pandora's box only after all the other plagues and sorrows had escaped, is the best and last of all things. Without it, there is only time. And time pushes at our backs like a centrifuge, forcing us outward and away, until it nudges us into oblivion.

A son is a promise that time makes to a man,the guarantee every father receives that whatever he holds dear will someday be considered foolish, and that person he loves best in the world will misunderstand him.

Like all things in the universe, we are destined from birth to diverge. Time is simply the yardstick of our separation. If we are particles in a sea of distance, exploded from an original whole, then there is a science to our solitude. We are lonely in proportion to our years.

Records blurt out trapped moments of rapture, fear, love, anguish, despair, excitement, and insanity. When an album plays, it is a ghost wailing, imprisoned in the moment, rattling its chains.

Older women are best because they always think they may be doing it for the last time.

Unfortunately most ways of making big money take a long time. By the time one has made the money one is too old to enjoy it.

Because it is written by a nineteenth-century American, and because of its closeness to the twentieth century, The Portrait of a Lady foregoes Victorian affirmations. The price it pays, however (together with several twentieth-century novels) is that it eventually leaves the reader, along with its heroine, 'en Vair' amid its self-reflections.

I'd always assumed that I would die at about the same age as my dad - he was 45. I am five years in credit now. I can't get my head around the fact that I am older than he was - ever.

Xervish Flydd, to Nish. 'You took your bloody time, Nish. I expected you nine years ago.

He keeps us waiting rather than wishing for him. I feel it a matter of perfect indifference whether he arrives at any moment or not at all." — Lady Harriet Cavendish of George Beau Brummell

As long as you're living in the meantime, you'll never really know what you're missing. And by doing so, your life is just a rehearsal for a performance that never comes.

In a tiny number of places I have added a personal recollection in a footnote. But I have kept them out of the text. Personal anecdote and historical evaluation are in my view best kept apart. Leaving aside the frailties of memory, most of what passes by on a daily basis has only ephemeral resonance. Assessment of the significance of major occurrences nearly always requires not just detailed knowledge but the passage of time in which to digest it.

Rocks are the ticking clock that measure the age of the Earth.

Australian aborigines have the oldest continuous culture in history, dating back almost 60,000 years. In their mythology, there was a time before humans that stretched back into eternity.