Simone Weil Quotes

Time marches on and sooner or later you realize it is marching across your face.

Time flies whether you are having fun or not.

Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death.

For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde, Ay fleeth the tyme; it nyl no man abyde.

Time comes to us softly, slowly. It sits beside us for a while. Then, long before we are ready, it moves on.

Every hour has its end.

What are you gonna do? Kill me? Everybody dies.

We see which way the stream of time doth run.

In a year's time, he's a year older.

The hour-hand of life.

Death cannot be struggled against, brother. It ever arrives, defiant of every hiding place, of every frantic attempt to escape. Death is every mortal's shadow, his true shadow, and time is its servant, spinning that shadow slowly round, until what stretched behind one now stretches before him.

Time in his aging overtakes all things alike.

Everything's going to end eventually. I don't know if we're rushing it or making it faster.

The 'tide in the affairs of men' does not remain at the flood; it ebbs. We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is deaf to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residue of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words: 'Too late...'

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

The water of the fountain ran, the swift river ran, the day ran into evening, so much life in the city ran into death according to rule, time and tide waited for no man, the rats were sleeping close together in their dark holes again, the Fancy Ball was lighted up at supper, all things ran their course.

Death has no need to be cruel, taking people's lives is more than enough.

The hour which gives us life begins to take it away.

We talk about saving time and killing time when actually we can't do either. We have no choice but to spend it at a constant and flowing rate.

Time is a brisk wind, for each hour it brings something new... but who can understand and measure its sharp breath, its mystery and its design?

While I was travelling and I kind of had the classic realisation - that I guess most teenagers have at some point - that time's gonna run out and that's not in my power to change that.

Years, following years, steal something every day; At last they steal us from ourselves away.