Jonathan Carroll Quotes

Surely a long life must be somewhat tedious, since we are forced to call in so many trifling things to help rid us of our time, which will never return.

Entire years had passed when he was rich enough in time to disregard the loose change of a minute, but now he obsessed over each one, this minute, the next minute, the one following, all of which were different terms for the same illusion.

Time flies never to be recalled.

It's funny, because when you're younger you're in a rush to be 18 or 21 or whatever. But then you hit 30. And now, the days go by like hours. You think, 40, man, this could be the halfway point. It could be the three-quarters point, you know? Who knows?

Middle Age - later than you think and sooner than you expect.

People always talk about how time flies; it's become sort of a colloquialism now. You don't really understand it until you reach your late 30s and early 40s - and I'm sure time will move even faster as I get older.

Time indeed has very little to do with living except at its beginning or near its end.

Eternity gives nothing back of what one leaves out of the minutes.

Why is youth so short and age so long?

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

It wasn't really touching to be young; it was touching not to be young, because you had less of life left. Touching to be thirty; more touching to be forty; tragic to be fifty; and heartbreaking to be sixty. As to seventy, as to eighty, one would feel as one did during the last dance of a ball, tired but fey in the paling dawn, desperately making the most of each bar of music before one went home to bed.

In retirement, the passage of time seems accelerated. Nothing warns us of its flight. It is a wave which never murmurs, because there is no obstacle to its flow.

Life is unnecessarily long. Moments of insight, of fine personal relation, a smile, a glance,--what ample borrowers of eternity they are!

But what are years, what are months!" he would exclaim. "Why count the days, when even one day is enough for man to know all happiness.

With age, it really becomes thinking about how time has passed - that's sort of the root of age.

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

I've been aware of the time passing by they say in the end it's the wink of an eye and when the morning light comes streaming in you'll get up and do it again

Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.

He has to find more and better ways of occupying his time. His time, what a bankrupt idea, as if he's been given a box of time belonging to him alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that he can spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what he does with it.

Another tea-time, another day older.

Lord, how the day passes! It's like a life - so quickly when we don't watch it and so slowly when we do.

While we are reasoning concerning life, life is gone.

Time meanwhile is flying, flying beyond recall.

We foolish mortals sometimes live through years not realizing how short life is, and that TODAY is your life.

Time: That which man is always trying to kill, but which ends in killing him.