The past grows gradually around one, like a placenta for dying.

We should not say that one man’s hour is worth another man’s hour, but rather that one man during an hour is worth just as much as another man during an hour. Time is everything, man is nothing; he is, at most, time’s carcass.

Years are nothing to me—they should be nothing to you. Who asked you to count them or to consider them? In the world of wild nature, time is measured by seasons only—the bird does not know how old it is—the rose tree does not count its birthdays!

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

Time’s ruins build eternity’s mansions.

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.