Quotes About Time

Because you couldn't make time, she'd been deluded about that. Time was a thief, he stole your life away from you and the only way you could get it back was to outwit him and snatch it right back.

There was something to be said for dying before you ended up in incontinence pads, watching an endless loop of reruns of Friends.

It's a symbol representing the circularity of the universe. Time is a construct, in reality everything flows, no past or present, only the now.

Life's too short," she said. There were days when Jackson thought life was too long.

Time did not heal—it merely rubbed at the wound, slowly and relentlessly.

They were lucky. They'd been given history.

He noticed that Ursula's ox-eye daisies, wrapped in damp newspaper, were drooping, almost dead. Nothing could be kept, he thought, everything ran through one's fingers like sand or water. Or time. Perhaps nothing should be kept.

It was amazing how tedious reading about sex could be at this time of the day, any time of the day, in fact.

It's never too late,' I said vaguely. A lie, of course, as often, unfortunately, it is much too late.

she had never been pregnant, never been a mother or a wife, and it was only when she realized that it was too late, that it could never be, that she understood what it was that she had lost.

Viola hadn't seen Sunny for nearly ten years and in the interim he had turned into a complete human being. ("Perhaps the two things aren't unrelated," Bertie said.)

Spring forward, fall back, Eunice chants. Daylight saving -- what an amazing idea. (If only you could, but where would you keep it? With the time that's found? Or the time that's kept? A treasure chest, or a hole in the ground?) You're late, Eunice says. Better than never, I reply irritably.

A whole life could be contained in a dinner-service pattern

I have been transcribing those poems and considering how lucky we are to live longer than flowers, even if not much happens to us.

The moment had passed. But it had happened.

Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

A vision of the future like some dim, gaunt monster sometimes appalled her, but luckily to-morrow never comes. Mrs.

Per lei, il passato non era niente; non offriva nessuna lezione che lei volesse ascoltare. Il futuro era un mistero che lei non aveva mai provato a penetrare. Soltanto il presente aveva significato; era tutto suo, per torturarla, come in quel preciso istante, con la crudele convinzione di aver perso ciò che aveva avuto, e che le fosse stato negato ciò che il suo essere fremente e appena risvegliato anelava.

GeçmiÅŸ hiç yaÅŸanmam?? gibiydi... Yaln?zca bu an?n anlam? vard?, yaln?zca bu an onundu...

Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

I meant skies all empty aching blue. I meant years. I meant all of them with you.

Life was so short; so many beautiful things slipped away.

Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark. Begin at the beginning. Tell Gregory a story. Make some light. And because Despereaux wanted very much to live, he said, Once upon a time...

Fear is a big waste of time.