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

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

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

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!

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