Lapham’s Quarterly

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

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

I’ve been on a calendar, but never on time.

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

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

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

The celestial machine is to be likened not to a divine organism but rather to a clockwork.

This is Year Zero.

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

The appointed thing comes at the appointed time in the appointed way.