The best way to fill time is to waste it.

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

Years are nothing to me—they should be nothing to you. Who asked you to count them or to consider them? In the world of wild nature, time is measured by seasons only—the bird does not know how old it is—the rose tree does not count its birthdays!

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

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.