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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

Nothing puzzles me more than time and space, and yet nothing puzzles me less, for I never think about them.

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

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

They say, “We only have the life of this world. We die and we live, and nothing destroys us but time.” Yet, not true knowledge have they of this—only belief.

My stern chase after time is, to borrow a simile from Tom Paine, like the race of a man with a wooden leg after a horse.

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