Quotes About Flow

At any given time the universe is giving you the best result possible.

We must breathe time as fishes breathe water.

Time is the River on which the leaves of our thoughts are carried into oblivion.

We say that time passes, time goes by, and time flows. Those are metaphors. We also think of time as a medium in which we exist.

Time your actions so you're not fighting against the currents but moving with them.

When you stay in the moment, you have all the time in the world, and whatever needs to be done will be completed in the exact right time.

Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought.

In retirement, the passage of time seems accelerated. Nothing warns us of its flight. It is a wave which never murmurs, because there is no obstacle to its flow.

Time was a face on the water, and like the great river before them, it did nothing but flow.

Time is a face on the water.

You know you've been in flow when time seems to have disappeared.

The point is to get a good rhythm, to make it mindless, almost as a daydream. To walk like breathing. To make it what the body wants, what the air wants, what time wants.

Music keeps time and defies time, simultaneously.

Music is not an exact science so depending on the time and the mode and the energy when we do it that will determine what happens with it.

Most of the time, songs that I write end up being finished in 30 minutes or less.

O Time! Time! how it brings forth and devours! And the roaring flood of existence rushes on forever similar, forever changing!

We see which way the stream of time doth run.

[I write] intuitively, reflexively, as if skiing down a steep mountain slope with no time to think.

Time jumps. It leaps. It pours away like water through fingers.

No single thing abides; but all things flow. Fragment to fragment clings - the things thus grow Until we know them and name them. By degrees They melt, and are no more the things we know.

You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.

And then it went, and time passed properly once more, every second following every other second just like they're meant to.

When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood.

Things always seem to glide away. They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.