Quotes about Time

A breeze shook rain out of new leaves onto their hair, but in their pursuit of eternity they never noticed the chill.

What we end up calling history is a kind of knife, slicing down through time. A few people are hard enough to bend its edge. But most won't even stand close to the blade. I'm one of those. We don't bend anything.

Plus," Tig said, "it reminds me to be patient. Seeing all these people that have passed on. I get frustrated sometimes, waiting." "For people to die?" "Yeah. To be honest. The guys in charge of everything right now are so old. They really are, Mom. Older than you. They figured out the meaning of life in, I guess, the nineteen fifties and sixties. When it looked like there would always be plenty of everything.

Time cures you first, and then it kills you.

To have been made the creatures we are is a marvel. If the process required millennia rather than seven days, how can it be any less sublime?

There is no perfect time to write. There is only now.

That hand looked a hundred years old. Knuckles and gristle.

At sunrise it always seems like you've got a good crack at getting everything done, but at sunset you know that you didn't.

History is not good news or bad news, it's just one big story unreeling. There are no small parts, only small actors.

It will be exactly as long as the time that passed before she was born. Because I could not stop for death he kindly stopped for me, or paused at least to strike a glancing blow with his sky-blue mouth as he passed. A lightning that cannot strike twice, our lesson learned in the hateful speed of light. A bite at light at Ruth a truth a sky-blue presentiment and oh how dear we are to ourselves when it comes, it comes, that long, long shadow in the grass.

I had a list going in my head that fall, of what all I would tell my little brother one day. But time passed and eventually my mind had only one thought in it as regards childhood. For any kid that gets that as an option: take that sweet thing and run with it. Hide. Love it so hard. Because it's going to fucking leave you and not come back.

Writing, which was both painful and palliative for me, turned out to be my own way of giving blood in a crisis. I can only hope this unit of words will have a longer shelf life than the forty-two days of a unit of blood, as this critical time blends seamlessly into the next one.