Best 236 quotes in «time passing quotes» category

Time is a gypsy caravan Steals away in the night To leave you stranded in dreamland Distance is a long-range filter Memory a flickering light Left behind in the heartland

Time has this way of slowing down and speeding up,depending on how it feels.

Time is a treasure on earth.

Time is important to me now, I tell myself. Not that it should pass quickly or slowly, but be only time, be something I live inside and fill with physical things and activities that I can divide it up by, so that it grows distinct to me and does not vanish when I am not looking.

Time is much more valuable than money.

Time is mutable! Time changes! Take your time, but, as much as possible; don’t forget to take all the chances in your life time!

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.

Time is priceless gift. Time defined moments. Time lost can not be redefined. May you find the value of time as your greatest wealth.

Time is the great healer. No matter how difficult the circumstances that cross our path, it takes time for our emotions, minds and spirit to process what’s happened. Rushing to make choices too quickly can send us down the wrong fork in the road. It’s normal and natural to feel overwhelmed, out of sorts and confused when a major change knocks on our door. While you may be forced to make some choices quickly, delay as many choices as possible until time has worked its magic. When you feel on solid ground again, you will be ready to make better choices about the future.

Time is life. Time for birth, time for death.

Time is our best friend and our worst enemy.

Time meant opportunity. After all, what more do we have than time? We measure it arbitrarily, but as we spend it, until it’s used up, it is called living.

Time: no start no end, the most powerful force in nature, killing more people than 100 atomic bombs, generating thoughts & ideas. Devil&Good

Time is the real emperor and there is no space for any pride since time flies and blows away anything.

Time may heal your wounds but it doesn’t heal your scars!

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.

Time moves so slowly. Or perhaps it doesn’t move at all and it is we who pass through it.

Time passes, day by day. The greatness of this country lies in the inexorable journey it has taken through time. Time is like an enormous pot, into which all ugliness and beauty are thrown, all happiness and grief, all life and all death. Cycle follows cycle, living life and dying death. Only the great River rolls on, unending.

Time is your only enemy, it disappears very quickly and never gives you a second chance.

Time passes by, memory stays Torturing silently, rest of our days... Sigh!

TIME: Today Is My Everything

Time would be my friend, I told myself. Yet time, I knew even then, was my enemy.

Time takes time

Time, the ultimate grandmaster that could never be checkmated. There was no way out of its distended belly.

Time slips. Days pass. Years fade. Life ends. And what we came to do on earth must be done while there is time!

Time unlived grows old Like unworn robes in a locked chest.

Time was not a line, but an awareness. I was no longer a body, but a series of pieces whistling as they bonded. I felt every cell within me. I could count them, name them, kill them, and resurrect them. Within the core, I was a tower made of fossil fragments. I could be disassembled and reassembled. If only someone knew the correct pressure point, I would turn into a pile of elements running off to find another bond, like seasonal farmhands journeying from East to West.

Time was unending when charmed, captivated, even delighted by the mystical motion of the ocean!

Time. What was time? Time is a river that flows both forward and backward. How could that be true?

Time, with his innumerable horse-power, worked away, not minding what anybody said, ...

Today is just another day of trying to get by without you.

Today, spend a little time cultivating relationships offline. Never forget that everybody isn't on social media.

Tomorrow came with the illusion of today even more fleeting than yesterday it came like it always comes and went like it’s always gone like a favorite song in its final seconds Tomorrow came and left leaving nothing nothing... but a familiar lingering sense of loss behind.

To realize the value of 1 week, ask an editor of a weekly newspaper. To realize the value of 10 years, ask a newly divorced couple. To realize the value of 4 years, ask a graduate. To realize the value of 1 year, ask a student who has failed their final exam. To realize the value of 9 months, ask a mother who has given birth to a stillborn. To realize the value of 1 mont, ask a mother who has given birth prematurely. To realize the value of 1 minute, ask a person who missed the train, bus or plane. To realize the value of 1 second, ask a person who has survived an accident. To realize the value of freedom ask a person who's in prison. To realize the value of success, ask a person who has failed. To realize the value of a friend, relative, family member or partner, LOSE ONE." Time waits for no-one, treasure every split-second.

transient, adj. In school, the year was the marker. Fifth grade. Senior year of high school. Sophomore year of college. Then after, the jobs were the marker. That office, this desk. But now that school is over and I've been working at the same desk for longer than I can truly believe, I realize: You have become the marker. This is your era. And it's only if it goes on and on that I will have to look for other ways to identify the time.

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”.

Until now, I've been writing about "now" as if it were literally an instant of time, but of course human faculties are not infinitely precise. It is simplistic to suppose that physical events and mental events march along exactly in step, with the stream of "actual moments" in the outside world and the stream of conscious awareness of them perfectly synchronized. The cinema industry depends on the phenomenon that what seems to us a movie is really a succession of still pictures, running at twenty-five [sic] frames per second. We don't notice the joins. Evidently the "now" of our conscious awareness stretches over at least 1/25 of a second. In fact, psychologists are convinced it can last a lot longer than that. Take he familiar "tick-tock" of the clock. Well, the clock doesn't go "tick-tock" at all; it goes "tick-tick," every tick producing the same sound. It's just that our consciousness runs two successive ticks into a singe "tick-tock" experience—but only if the duration between ticks is less than about three seconds. A really bug pendulum clock just goes "tock . . . tock . . . tock," whereas a bedside clock chatters away: "ticktockticktock..." Two to three seconds seems to be the duration over which our minds integrate sense data into a unitary experience, a fact reflected in the structure of human music and poetry.

uncertainty is a path without an end. He who wants to completely do away with uncertainties before starting a purposeful journey of life shall always end a purposeful journey on the path of uncertainties without beginning any purposeful journey of life

Two years in a child's life is the distance between stars.

Until I met you," she said, "I never realized how precious each day could be. When I was working, each day was over before I knew it, and then a week just flew by, and then a whole year...What have I been doing all this time? Why didn't I meet you before? If I had to choose a whole year in the past, or a day with you-I'd choose a day with you...

- Votre personne, vos moindres mouvements, me semblaient avoir dans le monde une importance extra-humaine. Mon coeur, comme de la poussière, se soulevait derrière vos pas. Vous me faisiez l'effet d'un clair de lune par une nuit d'été, quand tout est parfums, ombres douces, blancheurs, infini ; et les délices de la chair et de l'âme étaient contenus pour moi dans votre nom que je me répétais, en tâchant de le baiser sur mes lèvres. Je n'imaginais rien au delà. C'était Mme Arnoux telle que vous étiez, avec ses deux enfants, tendre, sérieuse, belle à éblouir, et si bonne ! Cette image-là effaçait toutes les autres. Est-ce que j'y pensais, seulement ! puisque j'avais toujours au fond de moi-même la musique de votre voix et la splendeur de vos yeux !

Use your now well now! There is always another day to change something, but all the days we may meet may never be the same. Use your now well now!

US, OVER TIME, PASSING BY As time elapses we will grow older and we will grow wiser. We will fall in and out of love. We will destroy each other only to build each other back up again. We won’t even notice we’re changing until it’s already happened, because change is just the act of becoming. We see it happen so naturally every day. The sun sets, the night rolls in, the stars start to shine and the moon glows. When morning comes the dawn will creep in and embrace the night, allowing the day to break and the sun to rise again. We will continue to change, tethered to time and influenced by everything around us. The relationships we search for and the ones that search us out. The relationships we thought could never be and the ones that we could never live without. They’re all on their way to becoming something else, never static, always moving. Because time is the biggest player in the game, and it is why everything is changing. If you try to picture every moment in a relationship all at once, then that right there would be us, over time, passing by. Changing, folding, becoming something else.

We all have 1440 minutes of life today. How, what or who will you spend it on? Choose wisely. You have 1439 left.

We knew it was only a moment. Our days of cool were numbered. Even when we were in it, right now was already gone. We didn’t know what it would be. Maybe a man. A baby. A death. What we knew was that soon, we’d pass thirty and get wrapped up in dull, adult things with no time or energy leftover to work at being cool. Just like that. Whoosh. Zoom. It’s over, and we’re here. From past to present.

We are not our own any more than what we possess is our own. We did not make ourselves, we cannot be supreme over ourselves. We are not our own masters. We are God's property. Is it not our happiness thus to view the matter? Is it any happiness or any comfort, to consider that we are our own? It may be thought so by the young and prosperous. These may think it a great thing to have everything, as they suppose, their own way–to depend on no one–to have to think of nothing out of sight, to be without the irksomeness of continual acknowledgment, continual prayer, continual reference of what they do to the will of another. But as time goes on, they, as all men, will find that independence was not made for man–that it is an unnatural state–will do for a while, but will not carry us on safely to the end …'" Mustapha Mond paused, put down the first book and, picking up the other, turned over the pages. "Take this, for example," he said, and in his deep voice once more began to read: "'A man grows old; he feels in himself that radical sense of weakness, of listlessness, of discomfort, which accompanies the advance of age; and, feeling thus, imagines himself merely sick, lulling his fears with the notion that this distressing condition is due to some particular cause, from which, as from an illness, he hopes to recover. Vain imaginings! That sickness is old age; and a horrible disease it is. They say that it is the fear of death and of what comes after death that makes men turn to religion as they advance in years. But my own experience has given me the conviction that, quite apart from any such terrors or imaginings, the religious sentiment tends to develop as we grow older; to develop because, as the passions grow calm, as the fancy and sensibilities are less excited and less excitable, our reason becomes less troubled in its working, less obscured by the images, desires and distractions, in which it used to be absorbed; whereupon God emerges as from behind a cloud; our soul feels, sees, turns towards the source of all light; turns naturally and inevitably; for now that all that gave to the world of sensations its life and charms has begun to leak away from us, now that phenomenal existence is no more bolstered up by impressions from within or from without, we feel the need to lean on something that abides, something that will never play us false–a reality, an absolute and everlasting truth. Yes, we inevitably turn to God; for this religious sentiment is of its nature so pure, so delightful to the soul that experiences it, that it makes up to us for all our other losses.

We gain new perspectives on life after every voyage.

We have become a shroud of delusion over reality. It is 'time' to accept that time is a created thing, it is not ticking... It is just a legal and economic system under which we are treated as property. Stop the glorification of busy...Stop feeding yourself with your own ashes.

Weeks passed, but my Word-A-Day Calendar was stuck on "motherfucker.

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.