Time is a face on the water.
Time isn’t precious at all, because it is an illusion. What you perceive as precious is not time but the one point that is out of time: the Now. That is precious indeed. The more you are focused on time—past and future—the more you miss the Now, the most precious thing there is.
There is no logical impossibility in the hypothesis that the world sprang into being five minutes ago, exactly as it then was, with a population that "remembered" a wholly unreal past. There is no logically necessary connection between events at different times; therefore nothing that is happening now or will happen in the future can disprove the hypothesis that the world began five minutes ago.
The future is a concept, it doesn't exist. There is no such thing as tomorrow. There never will be, because time is always now. That's one of the things we discover when we stop talking to ourselves and stop thinking. We find there is only present, only an eternal now.
The velocity with which time flies is infinite, as is most apparent to those who look back.
I always add a year to myself, so I'm prepared for my next birthday. So when I was 39, I was already 40.
Time is the supreme illusion. It is but the inner prism by which we decompose being and life, the mode under which we perceive successively what is simultaneous in idea.
Time becomes a stutter-the space between drumbeats, splintered into fragments, and also endlessly long, as long as soaring guitar notes that melt into one another, as full as the dark mass of bodies around me. I feel like the air downstairs has gone to liquid, to sweat and smell and sound, and I have broken apart in it. I am wave: I am pulled into the everything. I am energy and noise and a heartbeat going boom, boom, boom, echoing the drums.
Time, as is well known, sometimes flies like a bird and sometimes crawls like a worm, but human beings are generally particularly happy when they don't notice whether it's passing quickly or slowly.
Time is: Too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear.
As you begin to think more in terms of importance, you begin to see time differently.
Reality is always the story of a past, and what I love about the past is—it's over.
Time: That which man is always trying to kill, but which ends in killing him.
Men wrongly lament the flight of time, blaming it for being too swift; they do not perceive that its passage is sufficiently long, but a good memory, which nature has given to us, causes things long past to seem present.
There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it.
I realized then that a man who had lived only one day could easily live for a hundred years in prison. He would have enough memories to keep him from being bored
Memory creates a hallucination of the past, desire creates a hallucination of the future.
What is time? If I am not asked, I know; if I am asked, I don't.
How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?
Page was an almost ageless player who played long after most athletes retired.
To be in time is to be asleep: to be awake is to be in eternity.
The truth is that the past exists no more than the future, even though it feels as though it does.
Alice: "How long is forever?" White Rabbit: "Sometimes, just one second."
Time was rushing around me like water around a big wet rock. The only difference is, I was not so durable as stones. Very quickly I would be smoothed away.
It is just an illusion here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone, it is gone forever.
Time is just memory Mixed in with Desire.