Time is a dream ... a destroying dream;
The universe may be timeless, but if you imagine
breaking it into pieces, some of the pieces can
serve as clocks for the others. Time emerges
from timelessness. We perceive time because
we are, by our very nature, one of those pieces.
We are the fools of Time and Terror:
Day by day Time rolls the scroll of Life,
We grasp at Time, but cannot hold
Old Time, in whose banks we deposit our notes
Men wrongly lament the flight of time, blaming it for
being too swift; they do not perceive that its passage
is sufficiently long, but a good memory, which nature
has given to us, causes things long past to seem present.
There is a balance, a kind of standoff between the time
continuum and the human entity, our frail bundle of soma
and psyche. We eventually succumb to time, it's true,
but time depends on us. We carry it in our muscles and
genes, pass it on to the next set of time-factoring
creatures, our brown-eyed daughters and jug-eared sons,
or how would the world keep going. Never mind the time
theorists, the cesium devices that measure the life and
death of the smallest silvery trillionth of a second....
We were the only crucial clocks, our minds and bodies,
way stations for the distribution of time.
Time, the cradle of hope.... Wisdom walks before it,
opportunity with it, and repentance behind it: he that
has made it his friend will have little to fear from his
enemies, but he that has made it his enemy will have
little to hope from his friends.
How rapidly time urges his flight; sometimes as a relentless,
unsparing destroyer; but oftener as a swift-winged and
beautiful angel; changing, yet not taking away this world's
blessings: making our past sorrows look dim in the distance;
opening many flowers of pleasure on our way, and gradually
ripening our souls for the great eternity.
It lays great cities in dust, it fills the seas;
It covers the face of beauty, and tumbles walls.
CONRAD AIKEN
CRAIG CALLENDER
DaysSteal on us, and steal from us; yet we live,
Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
LORD BYRON
Yet man heeds not in worldly strife
The vanished years, till Death demands his claim--
The mound-lines of the clay that mark his name.
HARRIET MAXWELL CONVERSE
One minute of his treasured hour;
He tarries not, though oft we pray
That he will rest in youth's bright bower.
ARDELIA COTTON BARTON
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.
Oliver Wendell Holmes
LEONARDO DA VINCI
DON DELILLO
Charles Caleb Colton
WILLIAM CHAMBERS
Friday, June 22, 2012
Insightful quotes on Time
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