I’ve been on a calendar, but never on time.

In time history must become a fairy tale—it will become again what it was in the beginning.

I look for the end of the future, but it never ceases to arrive. 

The past grows gradually around one, like a placenta for dying.

This is Year Zero.

If both what is before and what is after are in this same “now,” things which happened ten thousand years ago would be simultaneous with what has happened today, and nothing would be before or after anything else.

Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid.

Time is a veil interposed between God and ourselves, as our eyelid is between our eye and the light.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

 Do not lessen the time of following desire, for the wasting of time is an abomination to the spirit.

Time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions.

The past is always tense and the future, perfect.

We should not say that one man’s hour is worth another man’s hour, but rather that one man during an hour is worth just as much as another man during an hour. Time is everything, man is nothing; he is, at most, time’s carcass.