Quotes
Quotes about Time
Procrastination is the thief of time.
Time flies, death urges, knells call, Heaven invites,
Hell threatens.
We see time's furrows on another's brow,
And death intrench'd, preparing his assault;
How few themselves in that just mirror see!
Time elaborately thrown away.
In records that defy the tooth of time.
Westward the course of empire takes its way;
The four first acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day:
Time's noblest offspring is the last.
Our youth we can have but to-day,
We may always find time to grow old.
Manners with fortunes, humours turn with climes,
Tenets with books, and principles with times.
Here thou, great Anna! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take--and sometimes tea.
But touch me, and no minister so sore;
Whoe'er offends at some unlucky time
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
And the sad burden of some merry song.
Ye Gods! annihilate but space and time,
And make two lovers happy.
Such were the notes thy once lov'd poet sung,
Till death untimely stopp'd his tuneful tongue.
Chiefs who no more in bloody fights engage,
But wise through time, and narrative with age,
In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice,--
A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
But sure the eye of time beholds no name
So blest as thine in all the rolls of fame.
Yet taught by time, my heart has learn'd to glow
For others' good, and melt at others' woe.
Note 25.Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus (Even the worthy Homer some times nods).--Horace: De Arte Poetica, 359.
Take time enough: all other graces
Will soon fill up their proper places.
What's not devoured by Time's devouring hand?
Where's Troy, and where's the Maypole in the Strand?
Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.
Remember that time is money.
And panting Time toil'd after him in vain.
A man may write at any time if he will set himself doggedly to it.
Time still, as he flies, brings increase to her truth,
And gives to her mind what he steals from her youth.
'T is now the summer of your youth. Time has not cropt the roses from your cheek, though sorrow long has washed them.
He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:
The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.
