Best 236 quotes in «time passing quotes» category

If time waits for no one then let me show you how it does, by smash your watch.

If we seek for the best times to act, we may miss some opportunities. We must seize the moment and make it great.

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.

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

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.

I have learned how to make time pass, but I never stop thinking of you.

Il tempo viene per chi lo sa aspettare

In a way, a garden is the most useless of creations, the most slippery of creations: it is not like a painting or a piece of sculpture—it won’t accrue value as time goes on. Time is its enemy’ time passing is merely the countdown for the parting between garden and gardener.

In space there are no seasons, and this is as true of the ships that cross the distances between humanity's far-flung homes. But we measure our seasons anyway: by a smile, a silence, a song.

In the time that man has been here there is one thing that all have seen and gazed upon in wonder. Luna.

I’m awfully interested in how big things begin. You know how it is; you’re twenty-one or twenty-two and you make some decisions. . . then whissh! you’re seventy. You’ve been a lawyer for fifty years and that white-haired lady by your side has eaten over 50,000 meals with you. How do such things begin?

I needed a fresh start, away from the memories that we had made for him, away from the home that didn't feel like my own anymore. Away from the people that had been ready to welcome him. Away from Honour and Ali.

In today's life, Luxury is Time and Space.

Isn’t time the only one true god? It makes and breaks

I remember a new heaviness in my body, but maybe that's the work of time and my looking back.

..it just seemed as if she were marking time while life rocketed past.

It is we who move through time, not the reverse. When we walk beyond any one of life’s instants, it becomes nothing more than a receding milestone. We can look back, but we cannot retrace our steps. The past remains stationary, while we are doomed to move ever onwards. To do otherwise is against nature.

I stood before her asserting my age, but in truth not knowing where the years had gone or how they had led up to this moment.

It gave an appalling idea of the value of an hour, and I thought I could never waste one again without remorse and terror.

It is not how long we spend with someone that matters. It's the effect of that encounter that makes the difference.

It's lost time that matters - the time between time - the moments when you forget time and life just happens.

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.

It's the most unhappy people who want to stay alive, because they think they haven't done everything they want to do. They think they haven't had enough time. They feel they've been shortchanged.

Life is defined by time, appreciate the beauty of time.

Life is funny...we never know what's in store us and time brings on what is meant to be.

I wonder if all mothers feel like this the moment they realize their daughters are growing up- as if it is impossible to believe that the laundry I once folded for her was doll-sized; as if I can still see her dancing in lazy pirouettes along the lip of the sandbox. Wasn't it yesterday that her hand was only as big as the sand dollar she found on the beach? That same hand, the one that's holding a boy's; wasn't it just holding mine, tugging so that I might stop and see the spiderweb, the milkweed pod, any of a thousand moments she wanted me to freeze? Time is an optical illusion- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. You would assume that, given everything, I saw this coming. But watching Kate watch this boy, I see I have a thousand things to learn.

Life can't be divided into chapters...only minutes. The events of your life are all crammed together one minute right after the other without any time lapses or blank pages or chapter breaks because no matter what happens life just keeps going and moving forward and words keep flowing and truths keep spewing whether you like it or not and life never lets you pause and just catch your fucking breath.

Life is funny...we never know what's in store for us and time brings on what is meant to be.

Like a speeding train I am passing by... I don’t know where I’m heading with whom or why all I know is that I will never, ever pass from here again all I know is I’m skidding forward on this track of life.

Liminal moments. Those moments apart from time when you are gripped. Taken. When you are so fully absorbed in what you are doing that time ceases to exist. Those early morning birthday moments were liminal, Sidda thought. Momma knew how to embrace liminality inspite of (or maybe because of) her emotional acrobatics. Momma taught me rapture.

<> <>

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.

Loveliness and stillness clasped hands in the bedroom, and among the shrouded jugs and sheeted chairs even the prying of the wind, and the soft nose of the clammy sea airs, rubbing, snuffling, iterating, and reiterating their questions — “Will you fade? Will you perish?” — scarcely disturbed the peace, the indifference, the air of pure integrity, as if the question they asked scarcely needed that they should answer: we remain.

making the most of every second, because seconds became minute sand minutes became precious when life could be taken in less than a breath.

Manage your time and life.

Man can never go backwards, but his past can light the way for his journey.

My expectations for the future? A beautiful past.

Moonless nights haunt me. They evoke my once carefree life when I dreamed without doubt to what my future could be. I yearn for a time when my mother’s tree swayed beneath the dusk like an amber sea, but the past is locked without a key. Never to return—only flee.

Measuring time isn't as simple as adding or subtracting minutes from a clock...You must find your own measuring stick.

[Natives] are also on friendly terms with time, and the plan of beguiling or killing it does not come into their heads. In fact the more time you can give them, the happier they are, and if you commission a Kikuyu to hold your horse while you make a visit, you can see by his face that he hopes you will be a long, long time about it. He does not try to pass the time then, but sits down and lives.

Next time, mind the time! So many people waste their time as if they are so sure of the next time, but no one is all that very sure, with all certainty, of what is in next time! Next time, mind the time!

Never Waste Your Time, Otherwise one day Time Will Waste or Spoil You.

No, not ten, not seconds, everything's different there, space slips away, and time collapses sideways like a ragged wave, and everything spins, spins like a top: there, one second is huge, slow, and resonant, like an abandoned cathedral, another is tiny, sharp, fast--you strike a match and burn up a thousand millennia; a step to the side--and you're in another universe....

Oh how time hangs and drags till our aid comes!

No sooner did we start than it all came to an end.

Nothing ever stayed the same. There was no force in this world strong enough to withstand the march of time.

Now Can't Be Never; Never Can't Be Now

Odd, the words: ‘while away the time’. How to hold it fast the harder thing. Who is not fearful: where is there a staying, where in all this is there any being? Look, as the day slows towards the space that draws it into dusk: rising became upstanding, standing a laying down, and then that which accepts its lying blurs to darkness. Mountains rest, outgloried be the stars - but even there, time’s transition glimmers. Ah, nightly refuged in my wild heart, roofless, the imperishable lingers. --- Wunderliches Wort: die Zeit vertreiben! Sie zu halten, wäre das Problem. Denn, wen ängstigts nicht: wo ist ein Bleiben, wo ein endlich Sein in alledem? - Sieh, der Tag verlangsamt sich, entgegen jenem Raum, der ihn nach Abend nimmt: Aufstehn wurde Stehn, und Stehn wird Legen, und das willig Liegende verschwimmt - Berge ruhn, von Sternen überprächtigt; - aber auch in ihnen flimmert Zeit. Ach, in meinem wilden Herzen nächtigt obdachlos die Unvergänglichkeit.

No, she felt homesick, not for a place, but for a time. Maybe it wasn't homesickness at all. Maybe it was timesickness. She just missed those days when she was younger - seven, six, five, four years old - when she didn't know so much about the world. She missed, most of all, her mother.

One may never get to know how fast the time travels till the one gets in that position to race against the time.