Andre Gide Quotes

Time is just a blur for me. I don't know what - I don't even know where I am sometimes.

For some reason, I have a very strange conception of time. I am constantly hovering at some overview, more macro.

There's no present, there's no future, I don't even know about the past.

My husband is stricken with dementia, and it's a trick of his condition that events and people from his past are more real to him than what happened five minutes ago.

As you get older what you think was 10 years ago was actually 15 years ago.

I can't keep track of my hospital time. It all sort of blurs together.

I've been bothered about time generally and our tripartite division of time into past, present, and future. I think I know what the past is, and I think I know what future is, but I'm really not comfortable with the notion of present.

Chunks of his life fell away, so that while we were moving ahead in time, he was moving back.

One hurries through, even though there's time; the past, the continent, is behind; the future is the glowing mouth in the side of the ship; the dim, turbulent alley is too confusedly the present.

The afternoon and the early evening slide by in a lidded daze where the ability to think in any identifiable way disappears and where every moment seems to be an eternity.

It was a long time ago now. And it was yesterday.

But as the scissors snip-snapped through her hair and the razor shaved the rest, she realized with a sudden awful panic that she could no longer recall anything from the past. I cannot remember, she whispered to herself. I cannot remember. She's been shorn of memory as brutally as she'd been shorn of her hair, without permission, without reason... Gone, all gone, she thought again wildly, no longer even sure what was gone, what she was mourning.

A sleeping man holds in a circle around him the thread of the hours, the order of years and of worlds. He consults them instinctively upon awaking and in one second reads in them the point of the earth that he occupies, the time past until his arousal; but their ranks can be mingled or broken.

Did you ever look at your watch, and you look away... and you don't know what time it is?

The past is never where you think you left it.

Being Doctor Who, I used to look at the clock and know at half past four we were going to stop rehearsing - and that was a sad moment for me because I wanted to stay in this beautiful, unreal world.

Events, once happened, lose reality, alter with a glance, a storm, a night. In time, the past never happened. But who could know? Who could know that the past is not as solid as this instant.

I'm very good at the past. It's the present I can't understand.

And there lies the horror: the past we remember is devoid of time. Impossible to reexperience a love the way we reread a book or resee a film.

The present changes the past. Looking back you do not find what you left behind.

These days the nights and mornings have a tendency to bleed into one another.

But the past is long, and the future is short.

The past is over; the present is fleeting; we live in the future.

There were moments when she wasn't talking so much as fading into time, dropping back into some funnelled stretch of recent past.

Time goes from present to past.