I'm always attracted by people who are lost in their time. I think it helps us.
In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinking.
Standing in the middle of nowhere, wondering how to begin. Lost between tomorrow and yesterday, between now and then.
She stood lost in eternity wearing a crazy dress, watching the immense sky.
How did it happen that now he could see everything so clearly. Something had given him leave to live in the present. Not once in his entire life had he come to rest in the quiet center of himself but had forever cast himself from some dark past he could not remember to a future that did not exist. Not once had he been present for his life. So his life had passed like a dream. Is it possible for people to miss their lives the way one can miss a plane?
Sometimes I feel that life is passing me by, not slowly either, but with ropes of steam and spark - spattered wheels and a hoarse roar of power or terror. It's passing, yet I'm the one who's doing all the moving.
The important thing is that man is lost in time, in the moment that immediately precedes him - which only attests, by reflection, to the fact that he is lost in the moment that follows
I came into the world either too early or too late; at present, I am good for nothing.
Perhaps the relevant truth is that we all find ourselves in temporal currents and that unless you're paying attention you'll discover, often too late, that an undertow of weeks or of years has pulled you deep into trouble.
Pointed in the wrong direction, trapped outside their own history and unable to retrace their steps because their footprints had been swept away.
I'm hopeless - all I know is that time is going past so fast.
Once upon a time . . . What time are we upon and where do I belong?
I feel like the world stopped. And I got off...and then it started spinning again, but too fast for me to hop back on. I feel like I'm still trying to get a...to get some kind of foothold on living
You ask what I have found and far and wide I go, Nothing but Cromwell's house and Cromwell's murderous crew, The lovers and the dancers are beaten into the clay, And the tall men and the swordsmen and the horsemen where are they?
I moved through the days like a severed head that finishes a sentence.
