Tom Robbins Quotes

Eternity is in love with the productions of time.

Nothing can come of nothing.

If I didn't love the hourglass, I wouldn't love myself.

Time marks us while we are marking time.

Afterlife, in my mind, is pretty much nothing. This is it. This is what we get, for me.

What happens to the hole when the cheese is gone?

One believes that if nothing happens, one disappears. That is not true.

Time is long but life is short.

Nothing can be created out of nothing.

Men and women, empires and cities, thrones, principalities, and powers, mountains, rivers, and unfathomed seas, worlds, spaces, and universes, all have their day, and all must go.

I’m cool with nothing cause even nothing is something

Nothing can be produced out of nothing.

Almost everything comes from almost nothing.

Does it matter how long they were together that night? To lovers, an hour can last a century. But even for lovers, every hour ends.

Once upon a time there was what there was, and if nothing had happened there would be nothing to tell.

Nothing can be born of nothing; nothing can be resolved into nothing.

A day is a miniature eternity.

Every second that passes is like a door that opens to allow in what has not yet happened, what we call the future, but, to challenge the contradictory nature of what we have just said, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the future is just an immense void, that the future is just the time on which the eternal present feeds.

Each something is a celebration of the nothing that supports it.

It's only through form that we can realize emptiness

The moment is the sole reality.

If time and space, as sages say, Are things which cannot be, The sun which does not feel decay No greater is than we. So why, Love, should we ever pray To live a century? The butterfly that lives a day Has lived eternity.

Days are coloured bubbles that float upon the surface of fathomless nights.

So we must love, while these moments are still called today, take part in the pain of this passion play, stretching our youth as we must, until we are ashes to dust, until time makes history of us.

What is the flesh and blood compounded ofBut a few moments in the life of time?This prowling of the cells, litigious love,Wears the long claw of flesh-arguing crime.