Quotes
Quotes about Time
To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
Too late I stayed,--forgive the crime!
Unheeded flew the hours;
How noiseless falls the foot of time
That only treads on flowers.
But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.
Full twenty times was Peter feared,
For once that Peter was respected.
On a fair prospect some have looked,
And felt, as I have heard them say,
As if the moving time had been
A thing as steadfast as the scene
On which they gazed themselves away.
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration.
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup
Of still and serious thought went round,
It seemed as if he drank it up,
He felt with spirit so profound.
"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old!
But something ails it now: the spot is cursed."
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight,
A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair,
Like twilights too her dusky hair,
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn.
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good.
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop
Than when we soar.
That kill the bloom before its time,
And blanch, without the owner's crime,
The most resplendent hair.
Time rolls his ceaseless course.
There's a gude time coming.
"Lambe them, lads! lambe them!" a cant phrase of the time derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.
Night is the time to weep,
To wet with unseen tears
Those graves of memory where sleep
The joys of other years.
Where Washington hath left
His awful memory
A light for after times!
They sin who tell us love can die;
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.
. . . . .
Love is indestructible,
Its holy flame forever burneth;
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.
. . . . .
It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest-time of love is there.
For with G. D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to speak profanely) to be present with the Lord.
Sentimentally I am disposed to harmony; but organically I am incapable of a tune.
There was silence deep as death,
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.
The gentleman [Josiah Quincy] cannot have forgotten his own sentiment, uttered even on the floor of this House, "Peaceably if we can, forcibly if we must."
When Time who steals our years away
Shall steal our pleasures too,
The mem'ry of the past will stay,
And half our joys renew.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime!
