Quotes About Time

You'll love me yet!--and I can tarry Your love's protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry, From seeds of April's sowing. I plant a heartful now: some seed At least is sure to strike, And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed, Not love, but, may be, like. You'll look at least on love's remains, A grave's one violet: Your look?--that pays a thousand pains. What's death? You'll love me yet!

What if we still ride on, we two With life for ever old yet new, Changed not in kind but in degree, The instant made eternity

A bitter heart that bides its time and bites.

time fleets, youth fades, life is an empty dream

Grow old along with me.....the Best is yet to be.....The Last of life---for which the First was made.

We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us broad have roared since days of long ago.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

I would advise him that is actually melancholy not to read this tract of Symptoms, lest he disquiet or make himself for a time worse, and more melancholy than he was before.

There is a time to fish and a time to mend nets.

On the abyss's edge we slide and soon will plunge head first; our life is given us with our death – and we, when we are born, begin to die. Without an ounce of pity, death strikes all things, brings to nothing stars, and suns are quenched by her cold breath – destroyer of the universe.

Death that makes nature quake with dread! today we are gods, tomorrow dust, creatures of poverty and pride, today hope fondly flatters us, tomorrow – man, where are you now? Your hours have barely fled away into the pit of chaos, your time fades like a dream at the new day.

Punk nostalgia, on the other hand, is a grotesque oxymoron. What can it mean to pine for a time when you were young and nihilistic? To look back twenty years to when you believed there was no future?

That is not wistfulness or sentimentality. It is grasping the hard fact that time runs in only one direction, that we have already died a thousand deaths and will die a thousand more, and that there is no remedy for it but love, though we are sure we have never seen love except in the rearview mirror, in the sad and tawdry puddle at the bottom of the glass

She didn't want to look ahead to the days and the months and the years with him. Here, now, in this room, it was all right, but later? Again, time couldn't stop. And she saw at last that time only stopped when you were dead...Time was always moving and nothing could stay the same, everything was always changing, for better or for worse. And you had to change with time, with the seasons and the years, or you would be dead too, although your heart would continue to beat.

What if miliseconds influence centuries?

LARKIN WATCHED Pike leaving, and in the moment he stepped outside, he was framed in the open door of their Echo Park house like a picture in a magazine, frozen in time and space. A big man, but not a giant. More average in size than not. With the sleeves covering his arms, and his face turned away, he seemed heartbreakingly normal, which made her love him even more. A superman risked nothing, but an average man risked everything.

Waiting doesn't look like much, but it is something very important. Waiting is passive hunting.

Time had weight. The weight was growing.

The lock was removed, and the door rose with a ratcheting clatter, filling the truck with grim red shadows. Jack checked the time. 2:55 A.M. The people ahead of them started to move. Krista's

She spoke in a fast rush. "Can't talk. Meet me in forty minutes. Say where." Forty minutes. Not half an hour or an hour. Forty. Like we were Ukrainian spies. We

Stone checked his watch. Tempus fugit. "Gotta

Most of the homes were immaculate Spanish or Mediterranean villas, reminiscent of an earlier time and rich with genteel elegance. More Ross Macdonald than Raymond Chandler.

The living room, dining room, and kitchen proved to be a waste of time. Another phone sat in the kitchen with another empty memory. I was having what we in the trade called an unproductive morning. The

It was eighteen minutes after seven, and I was getting ready to take a shower when the phone rang. Adrienne. I said, "Hi, Adrienne." Elvis Cole, Too Hip Detective, pretends he can read minds.