Time’s violence rends the soul; by the rent eternity enters.

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

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

Time rushes toward us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation.

There is no work of human hands which time does not wear away and reduce to dust.

Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.

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.

The celestial machine is to be likened not to a divine organism but rather to a clockwork.

Thou art not to learn the humors and tricks of that old bald cheater, time.

The past is always tense and the future, perfect.

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

This is Year Zero.