Quotes About Time

How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.

There is a way to master silence Control its curves, inhabit its dark corners And listen to the hiss of time outside

Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really...How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.

Because neither she nor Port had ever lived a life of any kind of regularity, they had both made the fatal error of coming hazily to regard time as non-existent. One year was like another year. Eventually everything would happen.

One never took the time to savour the details; one said: another day, but always with the hidden knowledge that each day was unique and fatal, that there never would be a return, another time.

We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well…How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.

The succession of thoughts appears in time, but the gap between two of them is outside time. The gap itself is normally unobserved. The chance of enlightenment is missed.

Although it comes only for a few minutes in most cases, its bloom endures and

I carry too much of the week into the Sabbath , and too little of the Sabbath into the week. John Quincy Adams

Right now a moment of time is fleeting by! Capture its reality in paint! To do that we must put all else out of our minds. We must become that moment, make ourselves a sensitive recording plate… give the image of what we actually see, forgetting everything that has been seen before our time.

To my mind, one does not put oneself in place of the past, one only adds a new link.

Your hair waves once more when I weep. With the blue of your eyes you lay the table of love: a bed between summer and autumn. We drink what somebody brewed, neither I nor you nor a third: we lap up some empty and last thing. We watch ourselves in the deep sea's mirrors and faster pass food to the other: the night is the night, it begins with the morning, beside you it lays me down. ("The Years From You To Me")

The Years from You to Me" Your hair waves once more when I weep. With the blue of your eyes you lay the table of love; a bed between summer and autumn. We drink what somebody brewed neither I nor you nor a third: we lap up some empty and last thing. We watch ourselves in the deep sea's mirror and faster pass food to the other: the night is the night, it begins with the morning, beside you it lays me down.

Erst wenn ich dich als Schatten berühre, glaubst du mir meinen Mund, der klettert mit Spät- sinnigem droben in Zeithöfen umher, du stößt zur Heerschar der Zweitverwerter unter den Engeln, Schweigewütiges sternt.

Unreadability of this world. All doubles. The strong clocks back the fissure-hour, hoarsely. You, wedged into your deepest, climb out of yourself for ever. — Paul Celan, "Unreadability," Paul Celan: Selections . (University of California Press, March 14th 2005)

They dug and they dug, so their day went by for them, their night. And they did not praise God, who, so they heard, wanted all this, who, so they heard, knew all this. -There was Earth inside Them

A palavra de ir-a-pique que lemos. Os anos, as palavras desde então. Ainda o somos. Sabes, o espaço é infinito, sabes, não precisas de voar, sabes, o que em teu olho se gravou aprofunda-nos a profundeza.

Zwischen Immer und Nie.

Yes, me, I prefer the hourglass so you can smash it when I tell you of eternity's lie —Paul Celan, "[Blinded by giant leaps]," Romanian Poems (Green Integer, 2003)

Nachts, wenn das Pendel der Liebe schwingt zwischen Immer und Nie, stößt dein Wort zu den Monden des Herzens und dein gewitterhaft blaues Aug reicht der Erde den Himmel. Aus fernem, aus traumgeschwärztem Hain weht uns an das Verhauchte, und das Versäumte geht um, groß wie die Schemen der Zukunft. Was sich nun senkt und hebt, gilt dem zuinnerst Vergrabnen: blind wie der Blick, den wir tauschen, küßt es die Zeit auf den Mund.

Algo de tal-qual- mão, algo de tenebroso, veio junto com o mato: Depressa -- desesperos, seus oleiros! --, depressa a hora ofereceu o barro, depressa a lágrima estava ganha:-- mais uma vez, com cacho azulado, acercou-nos, este hoje

Much time and money is wasted by salespeople trying to sell the wrong people the wrong solutions to the wrong problems.

miracles. My generation grew up through such a period, between

a quick check of Dawkins's documentation reveals a lot more time spent on Google than at Oxford University's Bodleian Library.