Quotes About Time

The clock played a crucial role in propelling us out of the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance and then the Enlightenment.

Fully transferring an explicit memory from the hippocampus to the cortex is a gradual process that can take many years.

There needs to be time for efficient data collection and time for inefficient contemplation, time to operate the machine and time to sit idly in the garden.

It was Calzas who told me that your life is a road along which you leave many markers - points in time and places on the map. The ones in time you can only revisit in your mind, and they never change. The places can be revisited firsthand, but they're constantly changing. To keep a place the same, he said, you can no longer return to it - and then it becomes a point in time.

The basic principle of Western staff notation is that passing time is represented through a series of marks arranged from left to right on the page. Within the five lines of the staff (or stave), notes are arrayed from high to low. So a score is a kind of two-dimensional plot in which the horizontal axis is time and vertical one is pitch;

There is something about African time that even the Swiss find a challenge.

I guess that's all forever is...Just one long trail of nows. And I guess all you can do is try and live one now at a time without getting too worked up about the last now or the next now.

I guess that's all forever is. Just one big long trail of nows. And I guess all you can do is try and live one now at a time without getting too worked up about the last now or the next now.

Many people's tombstones should read, "Died at 30. Buried at 60."

High in the Dales one can find: Think of me as you pass by, As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, some day you'll be, So now prepare to follow me. Someone, perhaps a night-duty policeman, had added the following: To follow you I'm not content, I do not know which way you went.

What they say here is true. Love is eternal for as long as it lasts.

Our lives can't be measured by our final years, of this I am sure.

I don't know that love changes. People change. Circumstances change.

I mean, if the relationship can't survive the long term, why on earth would it be worth my time and energy for the short term?

Our story has three parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end. And although this is the way all stories unfold, I still can't believe that ours didn't go on forever.

Time keeps no measure when true friends are parted, No record day by day the sands move not for those who, loyal-hearted, friendship's firm laws obey.

Poems do seem to want to announce, over and over, that life's warm zephyrs are blowing past and the gravestones are just beyond the next rise. Little groupings of gravestones, all leaning and cracked, with a rusty black Victorian fence around them. They're just over that rise. Poets never want to forget that. And actually we need to hear that sometimes.

From my music training, I knew that, some Spanish rhythms apart, 5/4 is a time signature used only in the modern era. Holst's Mars from the Planets is 5/4. But if you speak lines of poetry in that pattern you just end up hitting the off-beats. It's only when you add a rest - a sixth beat - that it sounds as it surely should sound.

Poetry is prose in slow motion.

As the red leaf warns: winter will be with us soon enough. If only I could bottle a little of this sunshine up and open it in January, like jam

the present is all that you ever have in life, and that these moments of magic are too precious to be ignored because you're too busy thinking about the next thing.

that those who are no longer with us remain with us specifically through our memories of them. That memories are perhaps more than just recordings, that they are the actual essence of the people we have known, the places we have been, lingering on long after the event, like time travellers, like ghosts.

I'm just trying to explain what happened in a way that, perhaps with time, you'll be able to understand. It wasn't a choice, you see. At any rate, it never felt like a choice. It felt like...I don't know. A compulsion, maybe?

So it's a shame. They wasted precious time tiptoeing around each other when clearly all that was required was a good heart-to-heart.