Quotes About Time

We are the driven ones. But the march of time Is but a trifle In our perpetual enduring. All this hastening Will soon be done; For only lingering Can consecrate our being. Young men, don't throw Your energies into tests of Speed or aerial flight. Know that all is in repose: The darkness, the brilliantly luminous, The flower, the book

Verweilung, auch am Verstrautesten nicht, ist uns gegeben

To be an artist means: not to reckon and count; to ripen like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of Spring without fear lest no Summer might come after.

Be out of sync with your times for just one day, and you will see how much eternity you contain within you. (Letters on Life)

And more than that: you are also the doctor responsible for looking after himself. But with all illnesses there are many days when the doctor can do nothing but wait.

Tudo quanto é velocidade não será mais do que passado, porque só aquilo que demora nos inicia.

I am able more and more to make use of that long patience you have taught me by your tenacious example; that patience which, disproportionate to ordinary life which seems to bid us haste, puts us in touch with all that surpasses us.

I don't like to write letters while I am traveling, because for letter writing I need more than the most necessary tools: some silence and solitude and a not too familiar hour.

Rufe mich zu jener deiner Stunden, die dir unaufhörlich widersteht.

Your inmost happening is worth your whole love, that is what you must somehow work at, and not lose too much time and too much courage in explaining

Yazmak için acele etmemek gerekir, mana ve tat toplamal?, bütün ve mümkünse uzun bir hayat boyunca ve sonra en sonunda belki iyi olan ve on sat?r yaz?labilir. Çünkü dizeler, birçoklar?n?n dediÄŸi gibi, deÄŸildir (bunlara insan yeterÅŸnce erken yaÅŸta sahiptir), dizeler deneyimlerdir.

Wir haben nie, nicht einen einzigen Tag, den reinen Raum vor uns, in den die Blumen unendlich aufgehn.

We of the here-and-now are not for a moment satisfied in the world of time, nor are we bound in it; we are continually overflowing toward those who preceded us, toward our origin, and toward those who seemingly come after us. In that vast open world, all beings are ? one cannot say contemporaneous, for the very fact that time has ceased determines that they all are . ?from letter to Witold Hulewicz (November 13, 1929)

patience is the art of courting the future.

Come when you should. All this will have been/ passing through me for you to breathe.

We often decide in advance how we will respond to something rather than wait for the experience to play itself out according to its proper speed.

How dear will you be to me then, you nights of affliction. Why couldn't I kneel more deeply and accept you, inconsolable sisters, or lose myself more freely in your loosened hair. We spendthrifts of sorrows. How we scan beyond them ahead into sad duration to see if perhaps they might have an end. But they are truly our winter-hardy foliage, the dark green of our life's meaning, one season of our secret year—, not only time—, but also place, settlement, shelter, soil, abode.

Learning-time is always a long, secluded time..

Something is true only next to something else, and I always think the world has been conceived of with sufficient space to encompass everything: that which has been does not need to be cleared from its spot but only needs to be gradually transformed, just as whatever is yet to occur does not fall from the skies at the last moment but resides always already right next to us, around us and within our heart, waiting for the cue that will summon it to visibility.

ÇocukluÄŸum için niyazda bulundum, ve iÅŸte çocukluÄŸum geri geldi, ve hissediyorum ki çocukluk, evvelden nas?lsa yine öyle a??r ve hiç de fayda etmemiÅŸ yaÅŸlanmak.

of all the disfigured and decaying Things, which, after all, are essentially nothing more than accidental remains from another time and from a life that is not and should not be ours.

Mümkün müdür tüm gerçeklikler onlar için bir anlam ifade etmesin; mümkün müdür hayatlar? boÅŸ odalardaki saatler gibi hiçbirÅŸeye baÄŸlanmadan geçsin?

Look, the trees are; the houses we live in still stand. We alone go past them like an exchange of vapors. And things conspire to tell us nothing, half in shame, perhaps, half in unspoken hope.

Summer might come after. It does come. But it comes only to the patient ones, who are there as if eternity lay in front of them.