Time Flow Quotes

We are seeing, then, that our experience is altogether momentary. From one point of view, each moment is so elusive and so brief that we cannot even think about it before it has gone. From another point of view, this moment is always here, since we know no other moment than the present moment. It is always dying, always becoming past more rapidly than imagination can conceive. Yet at the same time it is always being born, always new, emerging just as rapidly from that complete unknown we call the future. Thinking about it almost makes you breathless.

Yesterday, today was tomorrow. And tomorrow, today will be yesterday.

Time is a kind of river, an irresistible flood sweeping up men and events and carrying them headlong, one after the other, to the great sea of being.

Absolute, true and mathematical time, of itself, and from its own nature flows equably without relation to anything external.

Time flows in a strange way on Sundays.

When you fall into a black hole, everything that falls in after you over millions of years, as seen by you inside the black hole, comes pounding down on you in a fraction of a second, because of the enormous differences of time flow.

For every minute, the future is becoming the past.

Time doesn't go. Time stays. We go.

Life, after all, should go forwards, not backwards.

Time itself flows on with constant motion, just like a river: for no more than a river can the fleeting hour stand still. As wave is driven on by wave, and, itself pursued, pursues the one before, so the moments of time at once flee and follow, and are ever new.

Time neither moves nor is stationary. Time changes.

Imperceptibly the hours glide on, and beguile us as they pass.

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 was a face on the water, and like the great river before them, it did nothing but flow.

There is only one law of Nature-the second law of thermodynamics-which recognises a distinction between past and future more profound than the difference of plus and minus. It stands aloof from all the rest. ... It opens up a new province of knowledge, namely, the study of organisation; and it is in connection with organisation that a direction of time-flow and a distinction between doing and undoing appears for the first time.

Time is a river, and books are boats.

Time in its irresistible and ceaseless flow carries along on its flood all created things and drowns them in the depths of obscurity.

You can't go back and alter the past.

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.

Time is the water in which we live, and we breathe it like fish. ... Time pours into us and then pours out again. In between the two pourings we live our destiny.

Summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf.

That passed the time. It would have passed in any case. Yes, but not so rapidly.

And then it went, and time passed properly once more, every second following every other second just like they're meant to.

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.

I believe one thing: that today is yesterday and tomorrow is today and you can't stop.