Quotes About Inf

Eternity is not ever-lasting time but the real, unfading, indestructible, and timeless Present, for, as Schroedinger said, the present is the only thing that has no end.

Time is a part of eternity, and of the same piece with it.

When we try to look farther into the universe we come to what appears to be the end of space but actually it's the beginning of time.

Time has its own dimensions, and neither the sun nor the clock can encompass them all.

God dwells in eternity but time dwells in God. He has already lived all our tomorrows as He has lived all our yesterdays.

Secret to time is beyond our reason.

I'm fascinated by the fact that we can't grasp anything about time.

I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or any one else.

Time is too large, it can't be filled up. Everything you plunge into it is stretched and disintegrates.

A photograph offers us a glimpse into the abyss of time.

God is Infinite Wisdom, and Power, and Goodness - and LOVE; but if this idea is too vast for your human faculties - if your mind loses itself in its overwhelming infinitude, fix it on Him who condescended to take our nature upon Him, who was raised to Heaven even in His glorified human body, in whom the fulness of the Godhead shines.

And then I saw the eternal stars twinkling down upon me; I knew their God was mine.

My favorite moment in Jeanne Moreau's latest movie--a comedy called The Summer House --takes place in a kitchen, when she proclaims that every human has something to cry about. When mocked by the owner of the kitchen and pressed to say what it is that we have to cry about, she tosses back her head of flaming red hair and says, The winds of solitude roaring at the edge of infinity.

Time can tick when there is no clock.

Ah forever! I said. I have such a love of that word, forever. Yes, it is a timeless word, he said, raising his mossy eyebrows as he looked at me. Time is ours, but forever belongs to God, don't you think?

The great adventure of our lives. What does it mean to die when you can live until the end of the world? And what is 'the end of the world' except a phrase, because who knows even what is the world itself?

I could drive myself mad contemplating a great nothingness filled with a billion pinpoints of light and millions of drifting planets generating their myriad biological I=kingdom of insect, animal, sentient witness.

It's the doom of beings to read patterns in the stars, to give them names, to cherish their slowly shifting positions and clusters. But the stars never say a word.

The sky spread out, full of clouds, and then we broke through to the very stars.

I had slain all sense of time.

It was as if this night were only one of thousands of

nights, world without end, night curving into night to make a great arching line of which I couldn't see the end, a night in which I roamed alone under cold, mindless stars.

Death is the collapse of time.

How loose he seemed to himself, under the stars! The spaces between the stars were pores, out of which human meaning evaporated.