Quotes About Time

No matter who you are, your progress and success in life will depend, more than any other factor, on how you invest the twenty-four hours you're blessed with each day.

You can't make more time, only better choices.

There is always enough time to achieve what God wants you to accomplish.

Constantly remind yourself that every opportunity or activity is moving you either closer to the accomplishment of your goals or further away. The clock is always ticking. Nothing is neutral, and every single thing you do—or fail to do—counts!

Now is the time And here is the place, 'Cause we lose these hours and casting blame When we should be saying grace. We can find a better way. We can stand on common ground. We can work this out between us before the sun goes down. We come together.

Every blade will wither and fade, As the old man dies again. Seasons pass, We're clinging to grass, 'Cause we've lost the sky again.

The clocks in the hotel, and the clocks outside in the town, all began to strike six as he got into bed, and when the last clock had struck, the vague rumour of innumerable cockcrows rang in his head. And as he fell asleep he heard the first chatter of waking birds.

clock in a jeweller's window gave the time as twenty-three minutes to five. She knew, by the consequential scurry of its second-hand, that it was alive. It was surrounded by other clocks that made mad dead statements of divergent times as if, she thought, to set before her the stages of that day's fruitless pilgrimage.

Doing nothing at all is often the very wisest thing ... as the world is a ball and is turning and everything is in fact in motion all the time, doing nothing is not really doing nothing, it's allowing things to mover at their own pace

Forgive an old man. I say this here because pretty soon you get to a place where you're not sure there'll be a tomorrow, where you think I better say this now, here, because not only is time no longer on your side, you realise that it never was, that things were passing by faster than you could appreciate, and whole marvels, the quickening green of springtime, the shapeless shaped songs of unseen birds, the rising and falling of white waves, were passing without you noticing.

When you are born in one century and find yourself walking around in another there's a certain infirmity to your footing. May we all be so lucky to live long enough to see our time turn to fable.

I know now that, when you get to a grandfather's age, life takes on the qualities of comedy, with aches.

Nobody who's lived an anyway decent amount of life remembers everything.

when summer was still a word plump and generous and there was actual sunshine and time was impossibly deliciously luxuriously long and the idea of summer stretched out ahead so that now as you entered it you could not imagine it ever ending.

It is a dolorous fact that a meal, months in the dreaming, weeks in the planning and days in the preparation, is eaten in minutes.

In love everything changes, and continues changing all the time. There is no stillness, no stopped clock of the heart in which the moment of happiness holds forever, but only the constant whirring forward motion of desire and need, rising and falling, falling and rising, full of doubts then certainties that moment by moment change and become doubts again.

You've still time to go back and right all the mistakes you've made.

Beside the river there are two things you never forget, that the moment you look at a river that moment has already passed, and that everything is on its way somewhere else.

I think maybe I had a first sense then of the power of story, and realised that time had done what Time sometimes does to hardship, turn it into fairy tale.

And in just this way the days after my father's death became weeks became months in the familiar ceaseless cruelty of time, carrying us ever forward even when we sit still. Time does not pass, pain grows." (p.223)

silently gazing beneath the stars. And in that fall of light from heaven to earth perhaps all our stories were told, all actions of the living and dead explained, and all time past present and future there revealed.

all of them would be gone but be like remembered music or the amassed richness of a lived life.

at that moment I understood that this in miniature was the world, a connective of human feeling, for the most part by far pulsing with the dream of the betterment of the other, and in this was an invisible current that, despite faults and breakdowns, was all the time being restored and switched back on and was running not because of past or future times but because, all times since beginning and to the end, the signal was still on, still pulsing, and still trying to love.

Fortunately, at that time, Ireland wasn't in the world. So we weren't in the World War. Old Roundrims came up with that. Brilliant, really. World War II was toirmiscthe, he said, which people had to look up but basically turned out to be verboten in Irish. Twitter went crazy, saying it was shameful and backward, but back then twitter was only spoken by birds.