Quotes About Time

It's never too late to forgive someone and let go of some hurt. Life is short. We only really have this very moment! To live it fully is a gift we give back to ourselves.

As lover you reach forward to a point in time called "then" when you will bite into the long-desired apple. Meanwhile you are aware that as soon as "then" supervenes upon "now," the bittersweet moment, which is your desire, will be gone. You cannot want that, and yet you do.

My brother once showed me a piece of quartz that contained, he said, some trapped water older than all the seas in our world. He held it up to my ear. 'Listen,' he said, 'life and no escape.

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days.

We are only midway through the central verse of our youth when we see ourselves begin to blacken. ... We had been seduced into thinking that we were immortal and suddenly the affair is over.

And now time is rushing towards them where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces, night at their back.

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days. It is as if I could dip my hand down into time and scoop up blue and green lozenges of April heat a year ago in another country. I can feel that other day running underneath this one like an old videotape

When you are falling in love it is always already too late: d?ute, as the poets say.

It is the task of a lifetime. You can never know enough, never work enough, never use the infinitives and participles oddly enough, never impede the movement harshly enough, never leave the mind quickly enough.

Town of the Dragon Vein If you wake up too early listen for it. A sort of inverted whistling the sound of sound. Being withdrawn after all where? Does all the sound in the world. Come from day after day? From mountains but. They have to give it back. At night just. As your nightly dreams. Are taps. Open reversely. In. To. Time.

Time as hunger. Time passing and gazing. Time as perseverance. Mountain time. Time as paper folded to look like a mountain. Time compared to the wild fantastic silence of stars.

God's pity! How long will it feel like burning?

Would this day never end? His eye traveled to the clock at the front of the room and he fell into the pool of his favorite question.

Pass down an alley then turn a corner and there it is. Volcano in a wall. Do you see that, says Ancash. Beautiful, Herakles breathes out. He is looking at the men. I mean the fire, says Ancash. Herakles grins in the dark. Ancash watches the flames. We are amazing beings, Geryon is thinking. We are neighbors of fire. And now time is rushing towards them where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces, night at their back.

Oh look, here's Death at the gate! Punctual as ever.

Unsociable even at home and unable to meet the eyes of strangers when she ventured out, Emily made her awkward way across days and years whose bareness appalls her biographers.

How long will it feel like burning, said the child trying to be kind.

Aztán megindult feléjük az idÅ', ahogy karjukkal egymáshoz simulva álltak, arcukon a halhatatlanság, hátukban az éjszaka.

Proust Sonras? denen çöle bir kez ad?m at?nca, bu türden listeler yapmak bulabileceÄŸiniz en büyük eÄŸlenceler aras?nda.

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days. It is as if I could dip my hands down into time and scoop up blue and green lozenges of April heat a year ago in another country.

He came after Homer and before Gertrude Stein, a difficult interval for a poet.

A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.

Time isn't made of anything. It is an abstraction. Just a meaning that we impose upon motion.

All our paths lead to death.