Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.
This one is often misattributed to Bertrand Russell (and others) - see http://quoteinvestigator.com/2010/06/11/time-you-enjoy/ for details.
Glenn: Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat.
Rick Grimes: Don’t tell anybody.
Daryl Dixon: You’ve given away half our guns and ammo.
Glenn: Not nearly half.
Daryl Dixon: For what? A bunch of old farts who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long do you think they got?
Glenn: How long do any of us?
Magister Illyrio Mopatis: The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality.
Any time not spent in love is wasted.
Truth is the daughter of time, and I feel no shame in being her midwife.
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed
Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there’s time, the Bastard Time.
No time is better spent than that spent in the service of your fellow man.
When the shadow of the sash appeared in the curtains it was between seven and eight o’clock and then I was in time again, hearing the watch. It was Grandfather’s and when Father gave it to me he said I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire; it’s rather excruciatingly apt that you will use it to gain the reducto absurdum of all human experience which can fit your individual needs no better than it fitted his or his father’s. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.
A man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you’d think misfortune would get tired, but then time is your misfortune.
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.
The past is never dead. It’s not even past.
Of this I am quite sure, that if we open a quarrel between the past and the present, we shall find that we have lost the future.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
“This must be Thursday”, said Arthur musing to himself, sinking low over his beer, “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.”
Frodo: I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you were also meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.
The love of fame, as it enters at times into his mind, is only another name for the love of excellence; or it is the ambition to attain the highest excellence, sanctioned by the highest authority — that of time.
No man is truly great who is great only in his lifetime. The test of greatness is the page of history.
Only the present counts.
Michael: Hi, I’m Michael Scott, Regional Manager of Dunder Mifflin Scranton. I’m also the founder of Diversity Tomorrow, because Today is almost over.
Time has laid his hand
Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it,
But as a harper lays his open palm
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupation,
That is known as the Children’s Hour.
Never here, forever there,
Where all parting, pain, and care,
And death, and time shall disappear,—
Forever there, but never here!
The horologe of Eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,—
“Forever — never!
Never — forever!”
Snatching the eternal out of the desperately fleeting is the great magic trick of human existence.
We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.
Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a manly heart.
Once-ler: Why are you so interested in trees, anyway? Why aren’t you like other kids? Breakdancing and wearing bellbottoms and playing the Donkey Kongs?
Cosmo Castorini: It looks stupid. It’s a pinky ring. It’s a man’s ring.
Loretta Castorini: It’s temporary.
Cosmo Castorini: Everything is temporary. That don’t excuse nothin’.