Time, when it is left to itself and no definite demands are made on it, cannot be trusted to move at any recognized pace. Usually it loiters, but just when one has come to count upon its slowness, it may suddenly break into a wild irrational gallop.

 Do not lessen the time of following desire, for the wasting of time is an abomination to the spirit.

Without music to decorate it, time is just a bunch of boring production deadlines or dates by which bills must be paid.

This is Year Zero.

Nothing puzzles me more than time and space, and yet nothing puzzles me less, for I never think about them.