There is no work of human hands which time does not wear away and reduce to dust.

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.

Time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions.

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.

This is Year Zero.