Time is a great master; it regulates things well.
Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority.
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In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.
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Time is the moving image of eternity.
Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its brevity.
It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
There are moments in life when time and space are more profound, and the awareness of existence immeasurably increased.
Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.
Nor is it right to say there are three times: past, present and future. Perhaps it would be more correct to say: there are three times: a present of things past, a present of things present, a present of things future.
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
Meet the time as it seeks us.
Time reveals the truth.
Let us see to it that all time belongs to us. This, however, cannot be unless first of all our own selves begin to belong to us.
All our dignity consists, then, in thought. By it we must elevate ourselves, and not by space and time which we cannot fill. Let us endeavour then to think well; this is the principle of morality.
You could not step twice into the same river.
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He who would make serious use of his life must always act as though he had a long time to live and must schedule his time as though he were about to die.
Time, that moving image of an immovable eternity.
Patience and time do more than strength or passion.
Sadness flies away on the wings of time.
It takes a long time to become young.
What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.
There are no secrets that time does not reveal.
When a work appears to be ahead of its time, it is only the time that is behind the work.
Only it takes time to be happy. A lot of time. Happiness, too, is a long patience.
Hours were made for man, not man for hours.
As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.
The time at our disposal each day is elastic the passions we feel dilate it, those that inspire us shrink it, and habit fills it.
Love is space and time measured by the heart.
Both in thought and in feeling, even though time be real, to realise the unimportance of time is the gate of wisdom.
Everything comes in time to those who can wait.
Background photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash
