One day I'll be old, dead, forgotten. And at this very moment, while I'm sitting here thinking these things, a man in a dingy hotel room is thinking, "I will always be here."
In Charleston, more than elsewhere, you get the feeling that the twentieth century is a vast, unconscionable mistake.
By the time the traditionally male lexicographers become interested in looking at fashion words, their origins are lost in the mists of time.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
The past always looks better than it was. It’s only pleasant because it isn’t here.
History is a relentless master. It has no present, only the past rushing into the future. To try to hold fast is to be swept aside.
The velocity with which time flies is infinite, as is most apparent to those who look back.
The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.
We are now as I wished we could be then.
Life is long. But it goes fast.
Time is like a river made up of the events which happen, and a violent stream; for as soon as a thing has been seen, it is carried away, and another comes in its place, and this will be carried away too.
My worst mistake has been not grasping that time goes by. It was going by and there I was, set in the attitude of the ideal wife of an ideal husband. Instead of bringing our sexual relationship to life again I brooded happily over memories of our former nights together.
You can't halt time.
It took Hong Kong 100 years to become what it is.
Whoever marries the spirit of this age will find himself a widower in the next.
It was Jack's and Tom Watson's day yesterday. But today, it's another day.
The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of 60 minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is.
The law of unintended consequences pushes us ceaselessly through the years, permitting no pause for perspective.
There was not a moving up into vacated places; there was simply an anachronistic staying on between a vanishing past and an incalculable future.
The sunlight on the garden Hardens and grows cold, We cannot cage the minute Within its nets of gold
My son, who is 7, he passed a car in a parking lot that was probably a 1998 model, and he said, 'Wow, Dad, look at that old car.' I was looking around for an old car, and I realized that my old car maybe stops at 1965.
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.
When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.
Age carries all things away, even the mind.
It is said that the present is pregnant with the future.
