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 violence rends the soul; by the rent eternity enters.

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

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

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

The best way to fill time is to waste it.

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

Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its brevity.

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.

Our allotted time is the passing of a shadow.

I look for the end of the future, but it never ceases to arrive. 

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

They say, “We only have the life of this world. We die and we live, and nothing destroys us but time.” Yet, not true knowledge have they of this—only belief.