Quotes About Eternity

That's why love stories don't have endings! They don't have endings because love doesn't end. —Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever: A True Love Story

True genius repeats itself forever, and never repeats itself--one ever varied sense beams novelty and unity on all.

Act well at the moment, and you have performed a good action to all eternity.

Cerró los ojos y dejó que Eleanor siguiera. Aunque viviera mil años, no se cansaría nunca de que le tocara el pelo.

You have a fixation with time - clocks, years. What do they matter when there's love?

Sometime during eternity some guys show up and one of them who shows up real late is a kind of carpenter from some square-type place like Galilee and he starts wailing and claiming he is hep to who made heaven and earth and that the cat who really laid it on us is his Dad

The boundary between now and not yet will softly blur. And the clean line between your discrete body and all creation will someday be no more.

Time does not die; only people.

L'idée de ma survie dans ma postérité ne me touche pas beaucoup. L'avenir, cette énigme irritante, m'ennuie. Mais choisir son passé, se laisser flotter dans le temps révolu comme on remonte la vague, toucher au fond de soi le secret de ceux qui nous ont engendré: voilà qui permet de rêver, qui laisse le passage à une autre vie, à un flux rafraîchissant.

All or nothing at all, the true lover says, and that's the truth of it. My love will never die, he says. He claims eternity. And rightly. How can it die when it's life itself? What do we know of eternity but the glimpse we get of it when we enter in that bond?

There are souls ... whose umbilicus has never been cut. They never get weaned from the universe. They do not understand death as an enemy; they look forward to rotting and turning into humus.

Weep not for me, my friends so dear. I am not dead, just sleeping here. My grassy bed, my grave you see. Prepare in life to follow me. -Zee, off a gravestone

Time has ghosts. That's what time is: the ghost of every instant passed, haunting the potential of every moment to come.

As it was, then again it will be; though the course may change sometimes, rivers always lead to the sea.

If the sun refused to shine, I'd still be loving you. If mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me.

If the sun refused to shine I would still be loving you When mountains crumble to the sea There will still be you and me

Then as it was, then again it will be. Though the course may change sometimes, rivers always reach the sea.

Before me now there is only one real fact -- Death. The truth I have been seeking -- this truth is Death. Yet Death is also a seeker. Forever seeking me. So -- we have met at last. And I am prepared. I am at peace. Because I will conquer death with death.

part of her life wouldn't end with her death.

said that when you die and go to heaven, you get your body back. I can finally get rid of this

We have to find a way to unfreeze time-to represent time without turning it into space. I have no idea how to do this. I can't conceive of a mathematics that doesn't represent a world as if it were frozen in eternity. It's terribly hard to represent time, and that's why there's a good chance that this representation is the missing piece.

We seem to experience time passing as a smooth flow of moments. Barbour insists that the passage of time is an illusion and that reality consists of nothing but a vast pile of moments, each a configuration of the whole universe. You now are experiencing a moment. Now you are experiencing a different moment. According to Barbour, both moments exist eternally and timelessly, in the pile of moments. Reality is nothing but this frozen collection of moments outside time.

Time is endless and ours. Love and Death are only the games we play in it.

For death is but a passing phase of Life; A change of dress, a disrobing; A birth into the unborn again; A commencing where we ended; A starting where we stopped to rest; A crossroad of Eternity; A giving up of something, to possess all things. The end of the unreal, the beginning of the real.