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.

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.

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

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.

I’ve been on a calendar, but never on time.