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

If both what is before and what is after are in this same “now,” things which happened ten thousand years ago would be simultaneous with what has happened today, and nothing would be before or after anything else.

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

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

Our allotted time is the passing of a shadow.