Pierwszy z rodu jest przywiazany do drzewa, a ostatniego zjadaja mrowki.
Gabriel García MárquezTags: tree ants clan passing-of-time
Time after time have nations, ay, and rich and strong nations, learned in the arts, been, and passed away to be forgotten, so that no memory of them remains. This is but one of several; for Time eats up the works of man.
H. Rider HaggardTags: knowledge learning man time mankind futility materialism nations inevitability passing-of-time everything-is-meaningless fallen-nations
I sat up in the strange bed fearing it had been a dream, afraid I would never see her again. Not because I wanted anything from her, only her presence. The disappearance of the presence of beauty is the most despairing of events on this time-wheel of ours that rolls onward towards death.
Roman PayneTags: fear love passion woman women beauty death despair night afraid bed roman female beauty-in-nature passing-of-time payne feminine roman-payne nocturnal beauty-in-literature passing
Life may dawdle along in minutes but don't be deceived, for it will sprint by in years before you even notice.
Richelle E. GoodrichTags: life time passing-of-time years richelle passing-days richelle-goodrich
Time is an imp—a pesky, little, hellish troll that hastens the clock when I smile but then delays the passing of minutes when I frown.
Richelle E. GoodrichTags: time clock passing-of-time richelle minutes delay imp richelle-goodrich hasten
To say that the frozen silence contracted itself into a yet higher globe of ice were to under-rate the exquisite tension and to shroud it in words. The atmosphere had become a physical sensation. As when, before a masterpiece, the acid throat contracts, and words are millstones, so when the supernaturally outlandish happens and a masterpiece is launched through the medium of human gesture, then all human volition is withered at the source and the heart of action stops beating.
Such a moment was this. Irma, a stalagmite of crimson stone, knew, for all the riot of her veins that a page had turned over. At chapter forty? O no! At chapter one, for she had never lived before save in a pulseless preface.
How long did they remain thus? How many times had the earth moved round the sun? How many times had the great blue whales of the northern waters risen to spurt their fountains at the sky? How many reed-bucks had fallen to the claws of how many leopards, while that sublime unit of two-figure statuary remained motionless? It is fruitless to ask. The clocks of the world stood still or should have done.
Tags: love lovers middle-age falling-in-love passing-of-time
Noon, ripe as thunder and silent as thought, had fled unfingered.
Mervyn PeakeTags: passing-of-time noon
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