Quotes About Time

Sundays, especially in late afternoon, if you are alone, open a breach in time.

People don't come back any more. Haven't you noticed that, Monsieur?

One has to retire eventually, Guy.

l'un de ces dimanches doux et ensoleillés d'hiver où vous éprouvez un sentiment de vacance et d'éternité – le sentiment illusoire que le cours du temps est suspendu, et qu'il suffit de se laisser glisser par cette brèche pour échapper à l'étau qui va se refermer sur vous.

And then the next fifteen years fell apart: a few blurry faces, a few vague memories, ashes...

H?n anh t?ng hi v?ng già ?i cùng cô ?y?

we had no real qualities, except the one that youth gives to everyone for a very brief time, like a big promise that will never be kept.

La fugue – paraît-il – est un appel au secours et quelquefois une forme de suicide. Vous éprouverez quand même un bref sentiment d'éternité. Vous n'avez pas seulement tranché les liens avec le monde, mais aussi avec le temps.

Time had wiped the slate clean.

The other day, I happened to walk through it. I had a strange sensation. Not that time had passed, but that another me, a twin, was prowling around there -- down to the smallest detail, and until the end of time -- through what I had experienced over a very short period.

For me, autumn has never been a sad season. The dying leaves and the days that grow shorter and shorter have never evoked the end of something for me but instead brought with them anticipation for the future. In Paris, during these October evenings, there is an electricity in the air at dusk. Even when it rains. I don't feel down at that time of night, nor does it seem that time is passing too swiftly. I have the feeling that anything is possible.

Unless the line of a life, once it has reached its term, purges itself of all its useless and decorative elements. In which case, all that remains is the essential: the blanks, the silences and the pauses.

So they would't suffer too much from hunger, they slept and rested in bed for as long as they could. They lost all notion of time, and if Brossier hadn't come back they would never have left that room, not even the bed, where they listened to music and little by little drifted off. The last thing they saw from the outside world were the snowflakes falling all day on the sill of the open window.

Ng??i ta không già ?i. V?i nh?ng n?m tháng trôi qua, nhi?u ng??i và nhi?u th? r?t cu?c tr? nên hài h??c và n?c c??i ??n m?c b?n ném vào h? và vào chúng m?t cái nhìn tr? con.

How long did they stay there in that room, on the narrow bed? She had a scar on her shoulder, in the shape of a star, that Louis couldn't help but run his lips over. A souvenir of a fall from a horse. It got dark. They could hear the clattering of hooves, a whinny, and the high-pitched voice of the marquis giving orders at more and more distant intervals, like a motif on a flute, clear and desolate, returning again and again.

How much longer would we go on being old young people? They waved goodbye to me. I was moved by Annette. She and I were exactly the same age, and she'd become one of those slightly faded Danish beauties who used to attract me when I was twenty. They were older than I was at that time, and I was grateful for their tender protection.

Le moment de la journée que je préférais, c'était à Paris l'hiver entre six heures et huit heures et demie du matin, quand il faisait encore nuit. Un répit avant le lever du jour. Le temps était en suspens et l'on se sentait plus léger que d'habitude.

Mais, au bout d'un demi-siècle, les quelques personnes qui furent les témoins de vos débuts dans la vie ont fini par disparaître.

Hutte répétait qu'au fond, nous sommes tous des "des hommes des plages" et que "le sable - je cite ses propre termes - ne garde que quelques secondes l'empreinte de nos pas".

Bat Parisul in lung si-n lat de jumatate de secol, astfel ca fiecare cartier imi evoca anumite lucruri, anumite intalniri, adesea ramase fara viitor. In memoria mea totul se amesteca: locurile si persoanele, amintirile intime, lecturile. Nu prefer anumite zone, ci pur si simplu uneori am ciudata senzatie ca as putea sa dau peste niste oameni pe care i-am vazut cu decenii in urma, impietriti si ramasi la varsta si infatisarea de atunci, asa cum se suprapun spatiile-timpuri in unele romane SF.

Y pasan los días, y los meses. Y las estaciones. A veces, me gustaría dar marcha atrás y volver a vivir todos esos años mejor de lo que los viví. Pero ¿cómo?

I have never respected chronological order. It has never existed for me.

Usually, when I came home by myself at night, I would get to the corner or Rue Coustou and suddenly feel like I was leaving the present and sliding into a zone where time had stopped. And I was terrified of never being able to cross back, to return to Place Blanche, where life was being lived. I though I would remain forever a prisoner of that little street and that room, like Sleeping Beauty.

Hutte was always saying that, in the end, we are all "beach men" and that "the sand"--I am quoting his own words-- keeps the traces of our footsteps only a few moment