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Existence really is an imperfect tense that never becomes a present.

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.

Time, which alone makes the reputation of men, ends by making their defects respectable.

Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.

We have not the time to take our time.

In the morning a man walks with his whole body; in the evening, only with his legs.

We cast away priceless time in dreams, born of imagination, fed upon illusion, and put to death by reality.

I must govern the clock, not be governed by it.

Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them.

Forever is composed of nows.

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