Best 237 of Time passing quotes - MyQuotes
You stayed because you’d invested so much time in your relationship that it would be a waste to walk away.
P. S. Jagadeesh Kumar
If you expect me to do more than what you asked me to do, I am not passing my time, you are passing your time
Time passes, like clouds in the sky. Weeks and months go by as if they were a single day. Summer fades to fall, winter yields to spring, different minutes of the same hour.
And then there is that day when all around, all around you hear the dropping of the apples, one by one, from the trees. At ﬁrst it is one here and one there, and then it is three and then it is four and then nine and twenty, until the apples plummet like rain, fall like horse hoofs in the soft, darkening grass, and you are the last apple on the tree; and you wait for the wind to work you slowly free from your hold upon the sky, and drop you down and down. Long before you hit the grass you will have forgotten there ever was a tree, or other apples, or a summer, or green grass below, You will fall in darkness...
Today is just another day of trying to get by without you.
Time is no friend, it has turned its back and will not help, will not move anything, will not slow things down that are moving. ....... Where it has given hours, days, years, it will not yield moments. Where it has given moments so freely and with abundances, it now gives eternity.
Ličilo je to na zavirivanje kroz ključaonicu u sopstvenu dečju sobu koja je danas iznajmljena nekom tuđincu: to je ona ista boja zidova, prozor što gleda na kesten u dvorištu, patos prebojen uljanom bojom za podove, i plavičasta tavanica-ali unutra su neke nepoznate, tuđe stvari i nečija druga deca...Mirisi tuđih jela.
Go for it because for all those moments that you would make up your mind the other might have already rushed for it.
Time is an abstraction of eternity. A glimpse, for mortals, of what could be if we spend ours wisely in life.
You have got to own your days and live them, each one of them, every one of them, or else the years go by and none of them belong to you.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
¿Que esperabas? - suspiró Úrsula -. El tiempo pasa. - Así es - admitió Aureliano-, pero no tanto.
We used numbers and rigid systems to fit time into containers we could understand. But like Nexa said, it was immeasurable. A fluid river no logical structure could hold. A moment could have the power of years. And years could pass in a moment. The only thing that forever remained true about time was it never stopped moving forward.
Do anything that you want to do other than what you are required to do...success will surely go to others.
Sana: – Tanto 2 o 3 mesi passano in fretta! Mamma: – (narrando) Si separano tranquillamente, dicendosi che due o tre mesi passeranno in fretta… Ma quei bambini non sanno… …che per loro il tempo scorre moooolto più lentamente che per gli adulti.
Everything turns slower when she’s not around, but when she’s with me, an hour feels like a blink of an eye.
If you travel in space for three years and come back, four hundred years will have passed on Earth. I am only an armchair astronomer, but I have the odd sense that I have returned from a journey to a world where nothing quite makes sense.
Mehmet Murat Ildan
Whatever time is giving us, it will take everything back!
Today, spend a little time cultivating relationships offline. Never forget that everybody isn't on social media.
But however minimal, however threadbare, it (collective memory) is ballast of a kind. We all need that seven-eighths of the iceberg, the ballast of the past, a general past, the place from which we came. That is why history should be taught in school. to all children, as much of it as possible. If you have no sense of the past, no access to historical narrative, you are afloat, untethered; you cannot see yourself as a part of the narrative, you cannot place yourself within a context. You will not have an understanding of time, and a respect for memory and its subtle victory over the remorselessness of time.
One thing I learned during our last few days in Delhi was that Time, which can so often move as slowly as a slug crossing a dusty road, can also move with the swiftness of cloud shadows on a windy day.
H. S. Crow
Stars flicker, flash, and fade like we do. They are born and torn apart by entropy, yet we once called them gods. Foolish is it not? Without knowing, we had called the most permanent concept of a being—stars.
From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.
Every Now have Then ; Every Then have Now !
…this is the problem with photographs. After a while, you can’t remember if you’re recalling the actual memory or the memory of the photograph. Or perhaps the photograph is the only reason you remember that moment. (p.85)
for all I can really do is stand here in September’s rain savoring… soaking it all in slipping.. and simply holding on to poetry for dear life.
Two years in a child's life is the distance between stars.
For each tic of the clock, a small door slams shut; in the following tic is heard the turn of a lock.
Lord Cut-Glass, in his kitchen full of time, squats down alone to a dogdish, marked Fido, of peppery fish-scraps and listens to the voices of his sixty-six clocks, one for each year of his loony age, and watches, with love, their black-and-white moony loudlipped faces tocking the earth away: slow clocks, quick clocks, pendulumed heart-knocks, china, alarm, grandfather, cuckoo; clocks shaped like Noah's whirring Ark, clocks that bicker in marble ships, clocks in the wombs of glass women, hourglass chimers, tu-wit-tuwoo clocks, clocks that pluck tunes, Vesuvius clocks all black bells and lava, Niagara clocks that cataract their ticks, old time weeping clocks with ebony beards, clocks with no hands for ever drumming out time without ever knowing what time it is. His sixty-six singers are all set at different hours. Lord Cut-Glass lives in a house and a life at siege. Any minute or dark day now, the unknown enemy will loot and savage downhill, but they will not catch him napping. Sixty-six different times in his fish-slimy kitchen ping, strike, tick, chime, and tock.
Seize the day, then let it go.
This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can't take it with you.
In the time that man has been here there is one thing that all have seen and gazed upon in wonder. Luna.
Sometimes... the smallest drops in the bucket make the biggest ripples.
Ernest Agyemang Yeboah
children spend their time for they think they have more time; adults cry over their time for they see they have less time
In their quest for the "real moment" some expect to grab hold of the singular instant that feels like a journey between the past and the future, between the land they know and a land they don't know. In their pursuit they hope to encounter that 'genuine' moment, that frail child of the fleeting time that leaves a scar in the memory.
Time is our best friend and our worst enemy.
Tutto questo” pensava “non dovrebbe poter durare; però durerà, sempre; il sempre umano, beninteso, un secolo, due secoli...; e dopo sarà diverso, ma peggiore. Noi fummo i Gattopardi, i Leoni; quelli che ci sostituiranno saranno gli sciacalletti, le iene; e tutti quanti Gattopardi, sciacalli e pecore, continueremo a crederci il sale della terra”.
Sure, everything is ending," Jules said, "but not yet.
As soon as you wink, you close your eyes to reality.
April Mae Monterrosa
Life is funny...we never know what's in store for us and time brings on what is meant to be.
Now Can't Be Never; Never Can't Be Now
...we're not eighteen anymore. We've lived. We've created things that last – things of joy, and things of burden.
One may never get to know how fast the time travels till the one gets in that position to race against the time.
Time, the ultimate grandmaster that could never be checkmated. There was no way out of its distended belly.
This means that time shrinks with the accumulation of years. Or, at least, that's the perception. And all perception is, by its own nature, open to individual interpretation. The empirical fact is that time does not elongate or shrink. A day will always have twenty-four hours, a wee seven days, a year three-hundred and sixty-five days. What does change is our awareness of its speed - and its increasing preciousness as commodity.
Time, with his innumerable horse-power, worked away, not minding what anybody said, ...
Time moves so slowly. Or perhaps it doesn’t move at all and it is we who pass through it.
It is not how long we spend with someone that matters. It's the effect of that encounter that makes the difference.
Till the time you realize your conquest you already reach that stage when you start losing the grip.
He wrote all the time except during those late-afternoon hours between night and day when he didn't know what to do with himself. When work was over and the evening hadn't yet begun. He saw people going about their business, on their way home on the streetcars, walking with the evening newspaper in their hands. He looked at the dull gray of the city as it settled to dark, the clatter of dishes, children's heads bent over books, cooking smells -- chicken, stews, soups -- drifting into the street. It was in the pauses, in the space between notes, in the slips and breaks, a kind of slow steady interval as if one thing could lead to the next. As if you could go to sleep and wake up and it would be a new day and somehow things would be different than they'd been before. But Benny knew otherwise. Life didn't get better as it went along. It got narrower as if you were walking through a tunnel that was closing in on you, toward a distant beam of light that kept receding. Life got slower and the pauses got longer. Benny didn't mind the day when he was busy, and he waited for the night when he'd go somewhere and listen or play if they let him. It was the in-between time when he felt lost.
Time has this way of slowing down and speeding up,depending on how it feels.