Quotes About Time

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, A luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.

Our life runs down in sending up the clock. The brook runs down in sending up our life. The sun runs down in sending up the brook. And there is something sending up the sun. It is this backward motion toward the source, Against the stream, that most we see ourselves in, The tribute of the current to the source. It is from this in nature we are from. It is most us.

I could give all to Time except -- except What I myself have held. But why declare The things forbidden that while the Customs slept I have crossed to Safety with? For I am There, And what I would not part with I have kept.

Too long I've owed you this apology For the apparently unmeaning sorrow You were afflicted with in those old days. But it was of the essence of the trial You shouldn't understand it at the time.

A Time to Talk When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around On all the hills I haven't hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit.

Holding the curve of one position, counting an endless repetition.

Working faithfully 8 hours a day, you may eventually get to be the boss and work 12 hours a day.

A Late Walk - A Tree beside the wall stands bare, But a leaf that lingered brown, Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought, comes softly rattling down. I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower to carry again to you.

But bid life seize the present? It lives less in the present Than in the future always, And less in both together Than in the past. The present Is too much for the senses, Too crowding, too confusing— Too present to imagine.

Nothing gold can stay.

So dawn goes down to day/ nothing gold can stay.

Monotony? Have we not always had the same stars and the same sky above us, changing only in its shades of blue and gray and purple black? And who shall say that such themes are exhausted? Have we not always had love and passion, war and peace, summer and winter and spring and fall with us? And are these things unable longer to impel us to spiritual variations?

A Time to Talk - 1874-1963 When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around On all the hills I haven't hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit.

Nature's first green is gold

But the thing of it is, I need to be kept. There's work enough to do—there's always that; But behind's behind. The worst that you can do Is set me back a little more behind. I shan't catch up in this world, anyway.

Yes, when it's not our death." "You make that sound as if it wasn't so With everything. What we live by we die by.

This saying good-by on the edge of the dark And the cold to an orchard so young in the bark Reminds me of all that can happen...

Nature's first green is gold. Nothing gold can stay.

If I don't have time to live my life well the first time, when am I going to find the time to go back and live it over?

The seeds of the day are best planted in the first hour. DUTCH PROVERB

Circumstances, luck, mutual need, affection and time played a part. No relationships were made in heaven. They were made because living things were looking for good company. And when you found good company, you valued it deeply and were responsible for its up-keep and well-being.

If I don't have time to live my life right the first time, when am I going to find the time to go back and live it over?

Only at some distance in time and place do you understand the significance of the crossing over—finding in the ritual retelling a way of sanctifying the memory.

If one man lives as though he would never die and another man lives as though he might die tomorrow, would either one wear a wristwatch?