Quotes About Time

I'm hungry for water and sky and days that aren't divided by the tiny squares in an appointment book.

Our schedules are always filled with other things.

All things pass, suga' pea. All the things a this worl' got a time for bornin' and time for dyin', and a time for troublin' and a time for restin'. Ssshhh

How wonderful the days when all was well. How necessary, also, that we must release them now. It is fine enough to glance at the past, but one must never focus there overlong. Don't you think?

No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn't suit the moment. "Before we were yours

Do not let yesterday use up too much of today

Who chooses the schedules we keep? We do, I guess.

Sometimes life moves so fast, the road splits in an instant, and you only have a heartbeat to decide which way to turn.

Happiness doesn't grow where impatience grazes.

Time passes... but memories do not.

The best times of my life, the times that passed by me the most quickly, were the times when the roses grew wild.

The train scoots along in a slow, lazy sway, like a mama rocking her baby, too lost in the look of her child to think of the day's work done or the hard row ahead.

Mother told me," he sighs. "She'd been over to Drayden Hill to get a baby fix, since your sister and Courtney and the boys are visiting. Now she's on the grandkid kick again." Elliot is understandably frustrated. "She reminded me that I'm thirty-one already, and she's fifty-seven, and she doesn't want to be an old grandmother.

It's funny how from seventeen to seventy can be the blink of an eye, all of a sudden.

Sooner or later, the future always circles back to the past.

I learned from following in Papa Sevier's footsteps as I grew up. Life is not unlike cinema. Each scene has its own music, and the music is created for the scene, woven to it in ways we do not understand. No matter how much we may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around

I am transported to the time before the War between the States, a time that is bred into our awareness as Southerners, yet most often lauded as a day of grace and grandeur. Mr. Bass Carter causes me to wonder . . . how different is that history when seen from the fields and the lowly slave cabins?

Come about five minutes from now, you'll be stranded like a horned toad

I wonder, sometimes, as we wander that graveyard, what will remain of me someday. Am I creating a legacy that matters, that will last? Will someone stand at my grave one day, wondering who I was?

There's something magical about that time when your babies are small, when you're the center of their world, the person they love the most.

I have lived entirely, every moment in this wild and delicate place. What more would there be for me to do, if I lived to be one hundred? One bold year is worth a dozen timid ones.

The appointment book reinforces my new awareness of this. We plan our days, but we don't control them.

were the times when the roses grew wild.

bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance within the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn't suit the moment. I let go of the river's song and found