Quotes About Time

Why can't they figure it out that women take more time and need more stalls? You know why, he said. Because men are the ones who design these things, that's why.

FORTY YEARS AGO

From the very beginning of time itself, enemies have become friends, and friends have become lovers. It is not beyond the realm of possibility, even if history and experiences might be against it. Against us.

But when didn't a lifetime feel unfinished?

Meet back here at three. We can retire and compare notes." "Don't be one second late," I murmured in return. "Or the knife that sleeps in my bag might just find a home in your heart.

I'm writing this book because we're all going to die.

When ye've lived as long as I have, ye realize how relative time is. I've endured centuries that passed in the blink of an eye as if I were barely breathing.' He stopped and faced her. 'Or I can experience an entire lifetime in the span of a few nights. All the hope and passion that makes life worth living, 'tis suddenly surrounding me like a gift from God.' (Angus MacKay)

I asked if I could touch you and kiss you, and ye agreed. Have ye changed yer mind?" "No." Her heart thundered in her ears. "But ye're moving so fast." "Sweetheart, I doona count time in millennia like you. I'd like to get started. In this century.

He searched her eyes, and there it was. A sense of time slowing down. A world melting away with only two souls remaining. An eternity of longing. Bittersweet and desperate. Couldn't she feel it, too?

Assignments without deadlines are far better at producing guilt than stimulating action.

Let's say that your significant other has been paying less and less attention to you. You realize he or she has a busy job, but you still would like more time together. You drop a few hints about the issue, but your loved one doesn't handle it well.

If I could, I would work my way backward, paring away the years. I would reel my life arouond the wheel of this longing like so much loose wire.

Sometimes, in the long hours of a summer afternoon, when the paralegals at their desks are seeking a distraction, they watch the ghost emerging from her pleat in space and time and wonder if their lives will slip by like hers did, leaving them fastened so hopelessly, so desperately, to the past. As if a life could work any other way. As if that weren't precisely what a life must do.

Sometimes, driving past restaurants that had once been other restaurants, big box stores that had once been wood lots and houses, I imagined that if I could just make the right set of turns, the city would unlock for me, and my car would carry me into the roads of fifteen years ago.

Not long ago he had turned sixty, an age when people hunger for a moment, however small, that will justify the years they have spent and those that still remain to them.

Time and space, he thought. What a hodgepodge.

Tell me what you see vanishing and I Will tell you who you are —W. S. Merwin, "For Now

The beginning is the end is the beginning.

Know that life is a river or a stream which is constant and each appearance is as a pool that may refresh, in which others may be refreshed . . . make the world a better place because ye have lived in it. Ye can only do that by the hour, by the moment, by the day ye live. For ye are not promised more than one day in the physical consciousness at a time. Use it—don't abuse it! 5392

So you can remember everything about your life from the last seven years, but nothing before that? Not now, Carl. There must be something, Carl said, undeterred. I remember fighting the Romans at Masada, he said seriously. He didn't have to see Carl's face to recognise the shock that was there. That was seventy-three A.D ... ? Van Helsing shrugged. You asked.

He guessed all anyone could ever do was make the right choice in the moment. And in this moment

All good things in life are fragile and easily lost

A story is like a moving train: no matter where you hop onboard, you are bound to reach your destination sooner or later.

Life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end…crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis (nomads).