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.

Time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions.

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

Time’s violence rends the soul; by the rent eternity enters.

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.