Quotes About Time

You are afraid all the time, and there are good reasons to fear," is the opening line about life in prison by Columbia University law professor Robert Ferguson in his 2014 book, Inferno.[49] What are the dimensions of this fear, this disseminated terror?

There is, first of all, the way prisons transform the human experience of time. The prison should be seen as a kind of theater in which time is forged into an instrument of torture, producing sustained bouts of fear and panic that make prisons also a weapon of terror. The

Christianity turned its back on these ancient stories of fated decline. But it has never been able to escape historical mythmaking, despite the best efforts of theologians from Augustine to Karl Barth. The reason, as Hegel formulated it so well, is that Christian revelation is based on a unique divine incursion into the flow of historical time that altered but did not delegitimize an earlier divine–human relationship.

pdb also includes a postmortem function (pdb.pm()) that you can run after an exception occurs, to get information from the time of the error. See

Because using classes well requires some up-front planning, they tend to be of more interest to people who work in strategic mode (doing long-term product development) than to people who work in tactical mode (where time is in very short supply).

Acquisitions like that take years to play out," said Mahaney

being, of living, and of dressing, the pleasures and the wants of yesterday are to him the pleasures and wants of tomorrow. Rich or poor, he puts on every morning the same woollen cloth, and lays it aside only when he has worn it entirely out, in order to purchase another

Like most people my age, I merely existed.

El pasado duele solo si dejamos que nos alcance

Terror thrives on the bottomless pit of imagination, and the imagination comes to life with the passage of time. Time is its vintner, the family its furtile field.

I'd begun to think of the Immortality Bus as the Entropy Bus, and of ourselves as trundling across Texas in a great mobile metaphor for the inevitable decline of all things, the disintegration of all systems over time.

To friends, family, food and taking exams in comfortable, quiet areas without distractions or time restrictions!

It is the poet and philosopher who provide the community of objectives in which the artist participates. Their chief preoccupation, like the artist, is the expression in concrete form of their notions of reality. Like him, they deal with the verities of time and space, life and death, and the heights of exaltation as well as the depths of despair. The preoccupation with these eternal problems creates a common ground which transcends the disparity in the means used to achieve them.

Para nosotros ningún momento es completo en sí mismo. Cada momento se ve adulterado, empañado por lo que recordamos que ha sido y lo que anticipamos que será. En cada momento de nuestra vida la flecha del tiempo nos mantiene inocentes y moribundos, y por eso creemos que somos superiores a los demás animales.

On the long run, there is an experience of freedom, of a certain sort — the freedom of spending time with the mind.

Time, effort & persistence make for the writing of a good novel. There's no such thing as "writer's block." Just reluctance to make the slog

No matter how much you write and do other things, make time to read.

Guard your writing time--zealously. It's precious, even if it's only one or two hours a day.

Every moment a beginning. Every moment an end.

A coat is not worth eight times as much as a hat to the community because it takes eight times as long to make it...The community is willing to devote eight times as long to the making of a coat because it will be worth eight times as much to it

It's a race between your foolishness and your allotted days. Good luck.

We're angry about this, upset about that, but who has the time to do anything anymore? There are those reports to report on, memos to remember, e-mails to deflect or delete. They bury us like snow.

I distrust the perpetually busy, always have. The frenetic ones spinning in tight little circles like poisoned rats. The slower ones, grinding away their fourscore and ten in righteousness and pain. They are the soul-eaters.

There are times in every life when the past acquires a particular resonance, when we grow sensitive to sounds and voices normally beyond the range of hearing. The past shades into present always and everywhere, but only rarely do we acknowledge the process; only rarely does some trigger force us to recognize ourselves as citizens of that frontier.