There’s hours for you. It’s inch by inch and hour by hour to death. It’s hours gone and hours still to go. No puzzle there. A child can count it out. But what is time itself, dear friend? What is the sea where hours float? Am I daft, or is it true there's no such thing as hours past and other hours still to pass, but all of them instead are all at once and never gone? Is there no time lost that ever was? Is there no time yet to come that's not here now? There are two things which men can do about the pain of disunion with…
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Wiman on Time
[T]he relation between particles transcends time. And we are these particles.
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Augustine on Time
What, then, is time? If no one ask of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him who asks, I know not.
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Dylan on Time
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore You may not see me tomorrow
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Tolkien on Time
Time does not tarry ever, but change and growth is not in all things and places alike. For the Elves the world moves, and it moves both very swift and very slow. Swift, because they themselves change little, and all else fleets by: it is a grief to them. Slow, because they do not count the running years, not for themselves. The passing seasons are but ripples ever repeated in the long long stream. Yet beneath the Sun all things must wear to an end at last.