Time is a face on the water.
I consider time as an in immense ocean, in which many noble authors are entirely swallowed up.
If time were a bolt of cloth,” said Om, “I would cut out all the bad parts. Snip out the scary nights and stitch together the good parts, to make time bearable. Then I could wear it like a coat, always live happily.
Time is a great ocean which, like the other ocean, overflows with our remains.
What's that as flies without wings, your ladyship? Time! Time!
Time was something that largely happened to other people; he viewed it in the same way that people on the shore viewed the sea. It was big and it was out there, and sometimes it was an invigorating thing to dip a toe into, but you couldn't live in it all the time. Besides, it always made his skin wrinkle.
