Quotes About Time

You've got to use every moment. Because in the blink of an eye it's past you, and you never get your time again. Forgive me, Grace, Charlotte said smiling, but I think that's rubbish. I believe we meet our times with our full and ready selves at whatever ages we are when the times happen to us. That's what it's all about.

Here's an old story so new that it's still in the middle of happening, writing itself right now with no knowledge of where or how it'll end.

A prison is a prison, he says. Whatever you fill the time with.

There is no doubt, Daniel says. You really are you. Yes, Hannah says. I really am me. And you really are you. But if we follow Einstein's thinking and add together you plus me plus time plus space. What does that all make? Then she waits, like she always did, for Daniel finally to catch her up. What? What does it all make? Daniel says. It makes you and I more than just you or I, Hannah says. It makes us us.

Somehow this wasn't the same as melancholy. It was something else, about how melancholy and nostalgia weren't relevant in the slightest. Things just happened. Then they were over. Time just passed. Partly it felt unpleasant, to think like that, rude even. Partly it felt good. It was kind of a relief.

She thinks about the students she taught who graduate this week to all that debt, and now to a future in the past.

But we didn't fit, he and I. He thought it was because he was too old. He was older, and compared to the age I was I did think he was ancient. He was in his sixties then. Well, now I know that your sixties feel the same as all the other ages, and your seventies. You never stop being yourself on the inside, whatever age people think you are by looking at you from the outside.

And here was a summer day, asking to be longer. As if a summer's day wasn't long enough.

The nights are sooner, chillier, the light a little less each time.

God almighty. It is the dregs, really, to be living in a time when even your dreams have to be post-postmodern consciouser-than-thou.

Looking in the mirror suddenly she thinks that we all know our dates of birth but that every year there is another date that we pass over without knowing what it is but it is just as important it is the other date the death date.

Meanwhile, days pass.

Seems the self you get left with on the shore, in the end, is the self that you were when you went.

human beings can't be legends, being mortal

Jei žinai, kad jau pasimetei, tai reiškia, kad tikriausiai netrukus nepasimesi. Teisingai?

The twentieth century was wedded to the remembrance of things past, with Proust making the act of remembrance an art of sensory timeslip in the first texts which would become A la Recherche du Temps Perdu in 1913 and with Joyce making an epic forever out of a single passing ordinary day with the serialization of the first chapters of Ulysses not long after.

How adaptable human beings were without even realizing it, slipping blindly from state to state. One morning it was summer, the next you woke up and the whole year was over; one minute you were thirty, the next sixty, sixty next year quick as a wink, how fast it all was. How quickly and smoothly, yet how shockingly, when you thought about it, the seasons and the years gave way to each other

The seasons are meaningless. No - worse than meaningless. Paddy is rubble, and time just keeps on going. Autumn, then there'l| be winter. Then there'll be spring, and so on.

Do things just go away? her mother says. Do things that happened not exist, or stop existing, just because we can't see them happening in front of us? They do when they're over, George says. And what about the things we watch happening right in front of us and still can't really see? her mother says.

She stops to make a note on her phone: abandon and presence, she writes. It's the first time she's felt like herself for quite some time.

Livslånga vänskaper, sa han. Ibland får vi vänta en livstid på dem.

after she's dead she's going to come back every year as blossom on a tree. And if you die before me, he says, I will spend all the time I'm alive and not with you negotiating the various time differences across the world so that I can spend as much time as a man possibly can on this planet in springtime, in search of you

On the contrary, time and space are what lace us all up together, Hannah says. What makes us part of the larger picture. Universally speaking. The problem is, we tend to think we're separate. But it's a delusion.

There was once, and there was only once; once was all there was. She