Best 543 quotes in «time travel quotes» category

We don't do time-travel. That's for amateurs. We're not time-travellers - we're historians. We 'investigate major historical events in contemporary time'. so much more classy.

We gain new perspectives on life after every voyage.

We have the keys to open the Heavens door; Bible reading and prayer.

We imagine all these postapocalyptic, class-stratified, new-world-order techno-futures. But actually the real world, the world we live in, this is the dystopia.

We know the thing is four months away. Technically, it's already there and we're four months away.

We lied to ourselves thinking in our minds we knew everything. We were deceived in believing that youthful enthusiasm could replace wizened maturity.

Well, that's it." I said after we had waited for another five minutes and found ourselves still in a state of pleasantly welcome existence. "The ChronoGuard has shut itself down and time travel is as it should be: technically, logically, and theoretically...impossible." "Good thing, too," reply Landon. "It always made my head ache. In fact, I was thinking of doing self help book for science-fiction novelists eager to write about time travel. It would consist of a single word: Don't.

We must graciously endure the times.

We must seek the spirituality of the soul, to find our sacred-path.

We’re going to make a tunnel for that ship. We’re going to make sure that little lady has every chance in the world to survive. If I get any trouble out of any of ya…” he paused. “I’ll handle it myself, do you understand?” Johan… “Vital Perception

We’re here,’ the Clock says. The Perfectionist opens her eyes. She sees nothing. It’s white. All white. There’s no up. There’s no down. No horizon. Nothing. It’s just white. ‘Clock, what is this?’ asks the Perfectionist. Her voice is shaky. ‘This is the future.’ ‘This is the future?’ the Perfectionist asks. Her mouth is dry. She forces herself to swallow. ‘Why is the future like this?’ ‘Because it hasn’t happened yet,’ says the Clock

We savour on great memories of happy times.

We will grow old and die, eventually. Then I'll see you in Heaven.

We travel to see beautiful places and to meet great souls.

What a joyful adventure!

What a sacred journey?

What happened next… well, I'm going to blame it on the fact that I was scared. And I had just flown or fallen or something through about eighty years worth of Time. Or maybe it was the beans. I farted. I farted loud enough that it echoed around the small closet, bounced off all four walls and finally escaped through the open door. At least that's what it did in my mind's eye.

What do you say that we forget the past, forget all that we have been before, forget the future even, and we simply look to the here and now? Isn't that all we ever have in the end?

What I know about love, I can write on the head of a matchstick.

What’s with savage humans always wanting to cannibalize us?” Jaden asks as she runs past Summer to check for any more of the Tainted around the corner. “They want to suck your blood,” Rob says in a Romanian accent. Jaden snorts. Too bad humor won’t help them out of this mess.

What is more precious: a thousand answers derived from one question? Or, one answer…from a thousand questions?

What lies ahead is often unknown. But keep traveling.

What made you know so much about all of this?” She didn’t try to come across as angry, just curious. “It’s called American High School. Don’t worry; I’m a pastor’s wife. I speak Pretentious Caddy Women fluently.” She looked up at me questioningly. I knew she didn’t understand my humor but I thought I was hilarious.

What we are proposing,' Alicia said, 'is that the laws of physics are such that causality violation is subject to a form of version control, one that prevents a forking of history. That instead of causality violation creating an alternate universe, one version of history is outright overwritten by another. One past is replaced with another future. Which means that the memories of the past of the people in that future are replaced with memories of a different past.' Carson interrupted. 'Including the memories of any—' 'Purely hypothetical—' '—time travelers.' 'So take our time traveler from the traditional story,' Carson continued. 'He leaves his utopian future for the past. He kills the butterfly. The Magna Carta is never written. He returns to the dystopian future that his misstep created. But he doesn't see it as a dystopia: he sees it as home, the world he grew up in, the world he left to go back in time. Because he doesn't remember that first future, and has no other world to which he can compare this one. Maybe he even sees it as a utopia. Maybe everyone does. Maybe everyone in this dark place believes that they live in the best of all possible worlds.

. . . what I told Malory happened next is that when he looked over at her then it was like he'd been waiting a hundred years to see her, and this crazy ass Ledfeather girl all the way from Standing Rock, she looked off after the elk and then back at Doby through her hair, like she'd maybe been waiting for him too, but was scared a little, wanted to be sure, so Doby opened his mouth and said her name across the backseat of Junior's cab, Claire, like a flower opening in his mouth, and she held her lips together and nodded thank you to him, yes, thank you, and then swallowed what was in her throat and just let the sides of their hands touch together again some like it didn't really matter. But it did.

What use was time to those who'd soon achieve Digital Immortality?

When you stop chasing the wrong things, you give the right ones a fighting chance- Victoria Barron- dedicated attorney and protagonist of Misplaced

When I am out there, in time, I am inverted, changed into a desperate version of myself. I become a thief, a vagrant, an animal who runs and hides. I startle old women and amaze children. I am a trick, an illusion of the highest order, so incredible that I am actually true.

When I was small, I never wanted to step in puddles. Not because of any fear of drowned worms or wet stockings; I was by and large a grubby child, with a blissful disregard for filth of any kind. It was because I couldn't bring myself believe that that perfect smooth expanse was no more than I thin film of water over solid earth. I believed it was an opening into some fathomless space. Sometimes, seeing the tiny ripples caused by my approach, I thought the puddle impossibly deep, a bottomless sea in which the lazy coil of a tentacle and gleam of scale lay hidden, with the threat of huge bodies and sharp teeth adrift and silent in the far-down depths. And then, looking down into reflection, I would see my own round face and frizzled hair against a featureless blue sweep, and think instead that the puddle was the entrance to another sky. If I stepped in there, I would drop at once, and keep on falling, on and on, into blue space. The only time I would dare walk though a puddle was at twilight, when the evening stars came out. If I looked in the water and saw one lighted pinprick there, I could slash through unafraid--for if I should fall into the puddle and on into space, I could grab hold of the star as I passed, and be safe. Even now, when I see a puddle in my path, my mind half-halts--though my feet do not--then hurries on, with only the echo of the though left behind. What if, this time, you fall?

When the time travel is eventually doable technologically, yesterday was dead a man who is going to be born tomorrow.

When you spend time in the presence of God, you will experience everlasting peace and joy.

When you travel, be fully present in the place of voyage.

Wherever you are, you have to be joyfully alive.

Wherever we travel to, the wonderful people we meet become our family.

Whoever had said that appearances were deceiving was only partially right; they could also be deadly.

Who could be satisfied with seeking out the four corners of one small world, when there was the whole of time to be had?

Who's your friend?" Zoe asked Stanton. She glanced at Catty's moon amulet and then her eyes bore into Catty's. "Zoe," Stanton said. "I want you to meet your daughter." Zoe glanced at Stanton in disbelief, then stared at Catty in openmouthed wonder. Her hand reached out and caressed Catty's cheek, touched her lips, and smoothed back her hair. "I see your father in your face," she uttered more to herself than to Catty. Then a slight smile crossed her lips. "I give you away and you return to me the same day. At least I know you do make it safely into the future." She started to embrace Catty.

Why, yes. I am a strange wonder. The most special of snowflakes! Born out of time, forever running to catch up to it!

With great passion, observe every details of the sacred journey.

Working with heart, then enjoy our time.

Would you like me to go take that violin for you? I'd gladly fight whatever angry mob rises up if it might make you smile.

Writing a novel is like reading a book, you have to keep at it if you want to find out what happens next.

Writing is emotional...it is baring your soul to the world and waiting for someone to acknowledge and love it, or shun and hate it, or worse be indifferent about it.

Yeah, but what if you went back and killed your own grandfather?" He stared at me, baffled. "Why the fuck would you do that?

Yes you can be a time traveler, journeying to various lokas. You have such powers. Without travelling you can reach far fl ung places. Through telepathy you can know communicate with people living in far off places and through transfer of energy you can travel. As for your question regarding your not knowing about your own powers, then all I can say is that you have never explored yourself. Go on and fi nd out what your role is in the scheme of things of the almighty. Then only can you be at peace with yourself. We have been monitoring your progress from the day you were born and we have found certain inherent talents in you which can help us in our hour of crisis. Yamini how many of us know our true potential? This is the reason that we need people who tell us about our own skills and knowledge.’ the priest explained in detail.

You are every missing part of me.

You are not one person. You are a different person in each moment in time. Your name means nothing. Go see a person with the same name in a different time, and it’s someone else entirely.

You are telling me that I did something because I was going to do something.” “Well, didn’t you? You were there.” “No, I didn’t—no… well, maybe I did, but it didn’t feel like it.” “Why should you expect it to? It was something totally new to your experience.” “But… but—” Wilson took a deep breath and got control of himself. Then he reached back into his academic philosophical concepts and produced the notion he had been struggling to express. “It denies all reasonable theories of causation. You would have me believe that causation can be completely circular. I went through because I came back from going through to persuade myself to go through. That’s silly.” “Well, didn’t you?" ~ By His Bootstraps / Robert A. Heinlein

You are your own travel light.

You can come see me for a visit anytime. It's like how the song goes: I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places. . .