Ignorance is a waste of time. Love, and money to live.
Happiness requires us to be better than we are, that’s why it lasts for such a short time.
Say my daughter and her boyfriend meet again. If they have a child, will it be Lucas? The odds are astronomically against it. If it doesn’t happen, Lucas will die without ever being born.
Patience is a virtue for who knows its time.
Le monde s'agite, [...] il réclame la justice et non la pitié,son dû et non vos aumônes; [...] il pense mal parce qu'il ne pense plus vôtre, et pourtant il pense, il vit, infiniment plus vaste que ce coin de terre isolé par des haies, il vit, et nous n'en savons rien, [...] il vit, et nous allons mourir.
Like a twentieth-century dream of Europe—all horrors, and pastries—some part of me, for all time stands in a short skirt in a hospital cafeteria line, with a tray, while in another glittering tower named for the world's richest man my mother, who is dying, never dies.
Time was a face on the water, & like the great river before them, it did nothing but flow.' - The Wind Through The Keyhole.
Time is not like a chewing gum that you can chew and throw away. Time is dedicated to being; being vigilant; the one who rules the nations; the one who is triumphant.
Our time on earth is a temporary residence.
We should always be ready to explore our positive and negative traits by evaluating our real self from time to time.
Anything that makes you feel alive is worth devoting time to.
Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe the point of writing wasn't just to record something past but also to prolong the present, like in One Thousand and One Nights, to stretch out the time until the next thing happened.
What the point of crying over the things you don't have. Be patience and make the best of what you have. In TIME, great things will come.
Voksne venter på i morgen, bevæger sig i en nutid bag hvilken der er i går eller i forgårs eller højst sidste uge: Resten vil de ikke tænke på. Børn kender ikke betydningen af i går, af i forgårs eller sågar af i morgen, alt er lige nu; gaden er den, døråbningen er den, trapperne er dem, det er mor, det er far, det er dagen, det er natten.
Yes, it is possible that we do not grow up, that even as we grow old, we remain the children we always were. We remember ourselves as we were then, and we feel ourselves to be the same. We made ourselves into what we are now then, and we remain what we were, in spite of the years. We do not change for ourselves. Time makes us grow old, but we do not change.
He had never seen anyone live so magically and yet leave no trace of it until he met her.
All we know is that things happen. More accurately, God is the urging-forward force within all things, and all things (if “things” can be spoken of at all) are alive. The ontological matrix is a way in which His urging or thinking is manifested; so in that respect I think it’s not time which moves forward, carrying us with it like a great tide, but that we are driven forward all of us together, animate and inanimate.
Muscles relax, the mind expands. The vastness enters into the skin like a shot. ‘Our’ time dissolves.
I saw the priest take note of the time. What time was it? Then I felt his finger on my forehead. And I realized, whatever time it was, that it was the last moment of my life as an Episcopalian.
Antipathy toward time clouds personal and collective thinking.
