Quotes About Time

Tomorrow came, and it was much like yesterday. Just more so.

Names turned over by time, like the plough turning the soil. Bringing up the new while the old were buried in the mud.

Rejoice in what you have. Power, wealth, fame, they are ghosts! They are like the breeze, impossible to hold. There is no grand destination. Every path ends at the Last Door. Revel in the sparks one person strikes from another." She huddled into her cloak of rags. "They are the only light in the darkness of time.

A man is lent, not given, life.

Aunt Love said no housework was ever wasted, that it had to be done sooner or later anyway, but Jocie noticed the sooner you did it the sooner you had to do it again.

Our culture has beheld with suspicion unproductive time, things not utilitarian, and daydreaming in general, but we live in a time when it is especially challenging to articulate the importance of experiences that don't produce anything obvious, aren't easily quantifiable, resist measurement, aren't easily named, are categorically in-between

I thought of how she'd been at three, at six, at nine. No one warns you about the losses. No one tells you you'll miss them, those earlier children. They disappear, but are they still there, sealed one inside the next like those little wooden Russian dolls?

She understood that grief is not neat and orderly; it does not follow any rules. Time does not heal it. Rather time insists on passing and as it does, grief changes but does not go away.

Don't waste your one beautiful life.

Don't waste your one beautiful life," Vivien said softly.

Time doesn't heal, I had learned, it just keeps moving. And it takes us with it.

Grief doesn't have a plot. It isn't smooth. There is no beginning and middle and end.

One can't step into the river twice

No hocus-pocus here. Just lots of living; it lends you some wisdom. Which I'm guessing is a trade-off for lost youth.

Inside every seventy-year-old is a thirty-five-year-old asking, 'What happened?

A watched pot never boils

We let our dreams take over. We stopped saying someday and started saying next year, next month, next week.

Addiction is a bargain with the cosmos: only stay time, and I'll remain in this holding pattern, too. The uncrossable gap between now and the past is given tangible form and conquered, daily, in the real but bridgeable gap between what I need and what I can get. Addiction creates a god so that time will stop--why all gods are created. God might be another story.

The fear of the drugs running out is manageable-the fear of time running down isn't.

Once upon a time the future was supposed to be brighter, shinier and more fun. When did that vision pass? When did the word 'new' lose it's luster? Now the past is supposed to hold the hopes we once confided to the future. We're directing attachments that used to go forward backward.

Never has nostalgia held stronger sway; never has the belief in the redemptive possibilities of the future seemed so laughable.

The fear of the drugs running out is managable-the fear of time running down isn't.

Everything ends," she says. "That's nothing to be sad about. What matters is what starts in that moment.

Since death is certain, but the time of death is uncertain, what is the most important thing?" —PEMA CHÖDRÖN