I sat up in the strange bed fearing it had been a dream, afraid I would never see her again. Not because I wanted anything from her, only her presence. The disappearance of the presence...

Never give up on a dream because of the time it will take to accomplish it. The time will pass anyway.

Like a speeding trainI am passing by…I don’t knowwhere I’m headingwith whom or whyall I know is thatI will never, everpass from here againall I know is I’m skidding forwardon this track of life.

Time after time have nations, ay, and rich and strong nations, learned in the arts, been, and passed away to be forgotten, so that no memory of them remains. This is but one of several;...

I blink January’s lashesand gush down December’s cheeks

At the beginning of the war…I had to look in on the War Office, and in a room I found a fellow…What do you think he was doing…what the hell do you think he was...

To say that the frozen silence contracted itself into a yet higher globe of ice were to under-rate the exquisite tension and to shroud it in words. The atmosphere had become a physical sensation. As...

In reality, time doesn’t pass; we pass. Time itself is invariant. It just is. Therefore, past and future aren’t separate locations, the way New York and Paris are separate locations. And since the past isn’t...

A moment of torture feels like an eternity, while an eternity of joy passes in a moment. Perhaps time is naught but an illusion.

It’s strange how in childhood it feels like tomorrow won’t come until the end of forever, but in adulthood it feels like the end of forever could come tomorrow.

Time is an imp—a pesky, little, hellish troll that hastens the clock when I smile but then delays the passing of minutes when I frown.

Life may dawdle along in minutes but don’t be deceived, for it will sprint by in years before you even notice.

The disappearance of the presence of beauty is the most despairing of events on this time-wheel of ours that rolls onward towards death.