Quotes About Time

Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up.

The child is still there but has fallen silent. I see the way I saw, but from behind my eyes I see myself seeing, and that is enough to darken the sun, to make the green of the trees old, and to wilt the flowers before they open.

Consoler of the inconsolable, Tears of those who never cry, Hour that never sounds — free me from joy and happiness.

Maestro, son plácidas todas las horas que malgastamos, si al malgastarlas, cual en un jarrón, ponemos flores.

Entre o Sono e Sonho Entre o sono e sonho, Entre mim e o que em mim É o quem eu me suponho Corre um rio sem fim. Passou por outras margens, Diversas mais além, Naquelas várias viagens Que todo o rio tem. Chegou onde hoje habito A casa que hoje sou. Passa, se eu me medito; Se desperto, passou. E quem me sinto e morre No que me liga a mim Dorme onde o rio corre — Esse rio sem fim.

There was one of his lonelinesses coming, one of those times when he walked the streets or sat, aimless and depressed, biting a pencil at his desk. It was a self-absorption with no comfort, a demand for expression with no outlet, a sense of time rushing by, ceaselessly and wastefully - assuaged only by that conviction that there was nothing to waste, because all efforts and attainments were equally valueless.

If a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflection, what he sees is not a true reproduction of himself but a picture of himself when he was a younger man

still loved but deprived of grace

To say there is a time and a place for everything is trite, but the truth of the sentiment is not to be denied for all that; one could play the accordion while having a bath but probably nobody has ever tried to do that.

If a man stands before a mirror and sees in it his reflections what he sees is not a true reproduction of himself but a picture of himself when he was a younger man.

The writer operates at a peculiar crossroads where time and place and eternity somehow meet. His problem is to find that location.

The world was made for the dead. Think of all the dead there are...There's a million times more dead than living and the dead are dead a million times longer than the living are alive...

The Bible was the only book he read. He didn't read it often but when he did he wore his mother's glasses. They tired his eyes so that after a short time he was always obliged to stop.

sitting with him was like sitting by yourself; he didn't talk except when it suited him. You asked him a question in the morning and he might answer in the afternoon, or he might never.

I don't have a lot of time. I can give a poem a couple of lines, a short story a paragraph, and a novel a few pages, then if I can stop reading without a sense of loss, I do, and I go on to something else.

How would he know if time was going backwards or forwards or if he was going with it?

Give me the grace to be impatient for the time when I shall see You face to face and need no stimulus than that to adore You.

time goes forward, it don't go backward and unless you take what's offered you, you'll find yourself out in the cold pitch black and just how far do you think you'll get?

Mr. Head turned slowly. He felt he knew now what time would be like without seasons and what heat would be like without light and what man would be like without salvation.

He felt he knew now what time would be like without seasons and what heat would be like without light and what man would be like without salvation. He didn't care if he never made the train and if it had not been for what suddenly caught his attention, like a cry out of the gathering dusk, he might have forgotten there was a station to go to.

The grandmother wrote this down because she thought it would be interesting to say how many miles they had been when they got back. It took them twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the city.

He didn't have any use for history because he never expected to meet it again.

Los dioses no estaban ya, y Cristo no estaba todavía, y de Cicerón a Marco Aurelio hubo un momento único en que el hombre estuvo solo.

Quelques détails s'en allèrent, mais le regret lui resta.