Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.

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.

Time rushes toward us with its hospital tray of infinitely varied narcotics, even while it is preparing us for its inevitably fatal operation.

Thou art not to learn the humors and tricks of that old bald cheater, time.

A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch.