"time"タグの名言

Time Exists Beyond Infinity.

We were picking apart a problem in linguistic history and, as it were, examining close up the peak period of glory in the history of a language; in minuets we had traced the path which had taken it several centuries. And I was powerfully gripped by the vision of transitoriness: the way before our eyes such a complex, ancient, venerable organism, slowly built up over many generations, reaches its highest point, which already contains the germ of decay, and the whole intelligently articulated structure begins to droop, to degenerate, to totter towards its doom.

I was young, I said to myself: I have life in front of me. As I got older, I said to myself: I have life behind me. Sick, I said to myself: I do not care; as long as I have life with me. Since then, life is always with me. Neither in front, nor behind, nor before, nor after. I stopped offering it on the altar of Time. I brought life back to life.

বাতাস যখন তোমার সুন্দর চুল করছিলো এলোমেলো, আমার দুচোখ তোমার নিখুঁত ঠোঁটে আটকে গেলো সেইসময়!

Time passed, turning everything to ice. Under the ice, the future stirred. If you fell into it, you died. It was a time of waiting, of suspended action. I lived in the present, which was that part of the future you could see. The past floated above my head, like the sun and moon, visible but never reachable. It was a time governed by contradictions, as in I felt nothing and I was afraid.

Please God, whatever I was I am no longer….All is forgotten, if not forgiven—it could have come to that. But I don’t trust the thought. I don’t know if it’s because it would be too easy or too terrible to imagine no one cares anymore.

Wait, for now. Distrust everything if you have to. But trust the hours. Haven’t they carried you everywhere, up to now? Personal events will become interesting again. Hair will become interesting. Pain will become interesting. Buds that open out of season will become interesting. Second-hand gloves will become lovely again; their memories are what give them the need for other hands. The desolation of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness carved out of such tiny beings as we are asks to be filled; the need for the new love is faithfulness to the old. Wait. Don’t go too early. You’re tired. But everyone’s tired. But no one is tired enough. Only wait a little and listen: music of hair, music of pain, music of looms weaving our loves again. Be there to hear it, it will be the only time, most of all to hear your whole existence, rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

I had made myself the most complicated and the most hopeless trap that ever a man devised.

Time is nothing but everything.

That look on his face could break the hands off a clock, turning time into something weightless and slow.

And what happens when all the threads of the tapestry have been traveled? Do you then go over them again and again in an attempt to relive the best parts? Because nothing will be like that first experience. Nothing.

The science of decorating time with harmony and art that will leave a mark to be forever embraced by philosophers of every century is the penultimate of a man's inner peace and eternal happiness.

À medida que perspectiva do mundo se amplia, não diminui apenas a dor que ela causa, mas também o significado que tem. Compreender o mundo exige que se mantenha uma certa distância dele. Ampliamos coisas que são demasiado pequenas para serem vistas a olho nu, como moléculas e átomos. Reduzimos coisas que são demasiados grandes, como nuvens, deltas de rios e constelações. Só fixamos o mundo quando o temos ao alcance dos nossos sentidos. A essa fixação chamamos conhecimento. Durante a nossa infância e juventude lutamos para manter a distância correta das coisas e dos fenómenos. Lemos aprendemos, experimentamos, corrigimos. Então, um dia, chegamos ao ponto em que todas as distâncias necessárias foram determinadas, todos os sistemas necessários foram estabelecidos. É aí que o tempo começa a acelerar. Já não encontra qualquer obstáculo, está tudo determinado, o tempo passa rapidamente pelas nossas vidas, os dias sucedem-se num piscar de olhos, e , antes que nos apercebamos do que está a acontecer, temos quarenta, cinquenta, sessenta anos... O sentido requer conteúdo, o conteúdo requer tempo, o tempo requer resistência. O conhecimento é distância, o conhecimento é estagnação e inimigo do sentido.

Time is relative. In human life, time is experience. The faster you archive a significant experience to your memory, the more you live in the same clock time. In physics, experience is represented by the distance traveled, and this entire thing is called the Relativity of Time. I want to age and die through archiving my experiences, not watching my biological clock. Please don't waste my clock time with mediocrity and egotism, let me use it towards serving to others.

Not only are the depressed in a different place but their relationship to time is also warped. Depression recognizes only one time slot-the past-and only one manner of speech: “If only.” People who are depressed have very little contact with the present moment. They live persistently in their memories, resurrecting all that has come and gone. Like a hamster on a wheel or a snake that has swallowed its tail, they are stuck in a roundabout of gloom

Death, distance, and time, shall each one of them dig graves for your affections; but this pi do not know, nor can know, until the story of your life is ended.

Saturday morning, and I am at the old game of catching time between my fingers as it is running, forever running, away.

There is so much to do at the moment when we stop and ask for time, at the same time we connect the energy that exists within us and we go forward. Time is not for when you dream, change is an incredible opportunity that you really should enjoy.

Lonely time is the time for a genie to be born into the world. It is where truths come to the surface and change becomes their biography.

The longer it takes to take a step, the less time you'll have to enjoy whatever you conquer.