Quotes About Time

Patience, she said in her best governess voice, is only a virtue when there is something worth waiting for.

His father clasped his shoulders, holding him at arm's length, looking him up and down. "You've grown." "It's been eleven years," said Jack numbly. "Of course I've grown.

To be in Lyonesse, that is the question To justify the otters, is the question The dropping of the meadows, is the question I do not know the answer to the question There was a time when moorhens in the west There was a time when daylight on the top There was a time when God was not a question There was a time when poets Then I came

An old man's errors mattered both more and less than a young man's. More because there was less time to undo them; less because there was less time to endure their consequences. You coulda done plenty, Joey. I never gave you a chance.

An old man's errors mattered both more and less than a young man's. More because there was less time to undo them; less because there was less time to endure their consequences.

I am this month one whole year older than I was this time twelve-month; and having got, as you perceive, almost into the middle of my fourth volume—and no farther than to my first day's life—'tis demonstrative that I have three hundred and sixty-four days more life to write just now, than when I first set out; so that instead of advancing, as a common writer, in my work with what I have been doing at it—on the contrary, I am just thrown so many volumes back—

The chamber-maid had left no ******* *** under the bed:—Cannot you contrive, master, quoth Susannah , lifting up the sash with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into the window seat with the other,—cannot you manage, my dear, for a single time to **** *** ** *** ******?

History is an angel being blown backwards into the future

At a certain point, memory begins to be a burden.

Age is artificial. It's soulless. It doesn't matter one bit.

Looking back don't interest me. Today's what matters. And tomorrow, if we're lucky.

I wanted a coffin made of wood from trees not yet planted my appetite for time was growing.

I don't know what I'm doing in the next five minutes and she has the next ten years figured out.

Out there on the edge, the spinning of the Earth had slowed to give us the time we need to start finding each other again.

The warped perception of time is a hallmark of trauma.

My father stood and said, I will not live without my mind, then shook the doctor's hand and told me it was time to go home.

They only want to hear that you're healing, you're in recovery, taking it one day at a time. If you're locked into sick, you should stop wasting their time and just get dead

the necessary, impossible goodbye that had suddenly, in slow motion, arrived

The fight simmers gently on the back of the stove all afternoon, the bubbles rising up and popping, ingredients falling to the bottom, then surfacing again. It doesn't boil over until the sun sets.

Most relationships come with expiration dates just like milk and bread. Some go sour before you can taste them.

A wasting memory is not only a destroyer; it can deny one's very existence. A day unremembered is like a soul unborn, worse than if it had never been. What indeed was that summer if it is not recalled? That journey? That act of love? To whom did it happen if it has left you with nothing? Certainly not to you. So any bits of warm life preserved by the pen are trophies snatched from the dark, are branches of leaves fished out of the flood, are tiny arrests of mortality.

I've seen more than half a century of events. I've seen so much stuff that I had to purge 90 percent of my childhood memories from my brain in order to make room for passwords and PINs.

Moments of pure relaxation were rare for me. There was always the nagging of books unread, work undone, time a-wasting.

I am getting old, Russell. Gone are the days when I could scramble about on the moors all day and curl up happily at night with a thin blanket and a stone for a pillow. Three nights on floorboards and one night without sleep following three days at strenuous labour make me aware that I am no longer a callow youth.