Our allotted time is the passing of a shadow.

Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its brevity.

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

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

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

A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.

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

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

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

Time, when it is left to itself and no definite demands are made on it, cannot be trusted to move at any recognized pace. Usually it loiters, but just when one has come to count upon its slowness, it may suddenly break into a wild irrational gallop.

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

No preacher is listened to but time, which gives us the same train and turn of thought that elder people have in vain tried to put into our heads before.

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