We wish away whole years, and travel through time as through a country filled with many wild and empty wastes, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those several little settlements or imaginary points of rest which are dispersed up and down in it.

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

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

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

Our allotted time is the passing of a shadow.