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.

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

Time is a veil interposed between God and ourselves, as our eyelid is between our eye and the light.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.

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