Quotes About Time

The damage can fester under layers of time and change, and an ignorant, thoughtless remark can easily reopen the wound.

I watched my beautiful sister running . . . and I knew she was not running away from me or toward me. Like someone who has survived a gut-shot, the wound had been closing, closing - braiding into a scar for eight long years.

I loved the way the burned-out flashcubes of the Kodak Instamatic marked a moment that had passed, one that would now be gone forever except for a picture.

About Grandma Lynn: She was waiting patiently. She no longer believed in talk. At seventy, she had come to believe in time alone.

I would do what I did best, I thought. I would wait. It was only a matter of time, after all.

They would go back to their homes and put me to rest, a letter from the past never reopened or reread.

How can I be expected to be trapped for the rest of my life by a man frozen in time?

Pero esperaba con paciencia. Ya no creía en el poder de la palabra. Nunca salvaba nada. A los setenta años había acabado creyendo únicamente en el tiempo.

She no longer believed in talk. It never rescued anything. At seventy she had come to believe in time alone.

She held on to two sides of an hourglass and wondered how this could be possible. The time she'd had alone had been gravitationally circumscribed by when her attachments would pull her back. And they had pulled now – doublefisted.

I missed her then, but it was an odd sort of missing because by then I knew the meaning of forever.

She had needed the time to know that this love would not destroy her, and I had, I now knew, given her that time, could give it, for it was what I had in great supply.

The niggling idea of what she would do as Ray grew older and her husband worked increasingly long hours crept up the inside of her foot and along her calf to the back of her knee and began to climb into her lap

The moon is whole all the time, but we can't always see it. What we see is an almost moon or a not-quite moon. The rest is hiding just out of view, but there's only one moon, so we follow it in the sky. We plan our lives based on its rhythms and tides.

Like someone who has survived a gun-shot, the wound had been closing, closing - braiding into a scar for eight long years.

And who's to say that just because something lasts only a short time, it has little value?

What if more of life could be like that? Like the last slow dance, where, to echo T.S. Eliot, a lifetime burns in every moment.

It used to surprise me, the intensity with which I still remembered these distant memories. But when I entered my fifties...I understood their enduring clarity....In the end, what adds up to a life is nothing more than the accumulation of small daily moments.

What adds up to a life is nothing more than the accumulation of small daily moments.

How to stop rushing from place to place, always looking ahead to the next thing while the moment in front of me slipped away unnoticed.

By then I'd knocked around enough to know that, in the end, what adds up to a life is nothing more than the accumulation of small daily moments.

Mrs. Casey, do you love Christmas? Well you know, she answered reflectively, Christmas can be a sad time for people too. It's a remembering time for us older ones. We remember the people who are gone. Oh, I never thought of that, I told her in surprise. Well that's youth for you, she said; you don't start to look back over your shoulder until there is something to look back at, and around Christmas I tend to think of the Christmases past and the people gone with them.

She thought of how precious it was to be able to know another person over many years. There was incomparable richness in it.

Anybody can observe the Sabbath, but making it holy surely takes the rest of the week.