Tempus Quotes

Nunc fluens facit tempus, nunc stans facit aeternitatum. (The now that passes produces time, the now that remains produces eternity.)

Quot Libros, Quam Breve Tempus

All I can say in my own defense is quot libros, quam breve tempus—so many books, so little time (and yes, I have the tee-shirt).

I think tempus est umbra in mente is a better one. Roughly translated, it means time is a shadow in the mind.

Tempus Fugit

And like most middle-aged people who hear the clock ticking in their lives, I had come to resent a waste or theft of my time that was greater than any theft of my goods or money.

Hjärnan känner inga tempus. Det den har längtat efter har den redan haft. Språnget sker när vi inte vill förlora den framtid vi redan känt.

tempus est umbra in mente

Quid est tempus? Si nemo me queret, scio; si aliqui explicare velim, nescio. What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.

I wondered if that’s what déjà vu was - being in step with a moment, a place, exactly where you were supposed to be at a given time. 

Be very careful what you try with that.  I’m not as strong as I should be.” His breath was ragged, and irregular.  “And you are stronger than you know.

Fugit irreparabile tempus.

If tears of sorrow are the echoes of things lost, what then are tears of joy?

Everything he did was a physical thing.  When he spoke, my bones ached.  When he breathed, I felt it in my veins and on my skin. 

-I looked at his beautiful face.  “So I guess that means I’m the ugly one.”- 

It is impossible for me to remember how many days or weeks went by in this way. Time is round, and it rolls quickly.

My second thoughts condemn And wonder how I dare To look you in the eye. What right have I to swear Even at one a.m. To love you till I die? Earth meets too many crimes For fibs to interest her; If I can give my word, Forgiveness can recur Any number of times In Time. Which is absurd. Tempus fugit. Quite. So finish up your drink. All flesh is grass. It is. But who on earth can think With heavy heart or light Of what will come of this?

Time—infinity served in finite portions.

Pro te, milies aeterno. He placed my hand on his heart. And that means? For you, a thousand times eternity.

Tempus edax homo edacior; which I willingly thus translate; "Time is blind, man is stupid.

Tempus edax rerum.

Tempus edax rerum. Time devours all things.

quot libros, quam breve tempus—

It isn’t always love at first sight, or all sparks and fireworks and goo-goo gaa-gaa. Love grows, you know. They even write songs about it.

Tempus fugit is a good one,” she said, “but time doesn’t always fly, as everyone who’s ever had to wait around for something knows. I think tempus est umbra in mente is a better one. Roughly translated, it means time is a shadow in the mind.

tempus est umbra in mente is a better one. Roughly translated, it means time is a shadow in the mind.

quot libros, quam breve tempus

Tempus fugit, non autem memoria

Tempus fugit.

quot libros, quam breve tempus—so

Tempus edax rerum, usually translated “Time devours all things.

Seize the fish, tempus flytrap, time waits for nomads.

Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile tempus, singula dum capti circumvectamur amore

There are things never meant to be understood, Jessie. Things which cannot now nor ever, through any means, be deciphered. Not through dreams, nor tests, nor divination, nor science, nor speculation.

The Tempus, a young woman, fair with light brown hair, bowed her head to him. So she knew to acknowledge a dragon lord, though that wasn’t the role he played in his life these days. A respectful spy. How quaint.

His eyes looked sad and cautious.  I recognized the grief, but there seemed to be more to it, a depth beyond what even I had experienced, a regret I couldn’t quite grasp.

once the Tempus blows, how do you know we’ll ricochet off the debris field and not just plow through it?” Adequin shook her head, the back of her throat going dry. “I’m choosing to be optimistic.” “Physics doesn’t really give a shit about your existential disposition, Rake!

Some of you will say, This is stupid. Will I break my promise not to argue the point, even though I consider Mr. Owen’s poems the greatest to come out of World War I? No! It’s just my opinion, you see, and opinions are like assholes: everybody has one.” They all roared at that, young ladies and gentlemen alike. Mr. Ricker drew himself up. “I may give some of you detentions if you disrupt my class, I have no problem with imposing discipline, but never will I disrespect your opinion. And yet! And yet!” Up went the finger. “Time will pass! Tempus will fugit! Owen’s poem may fall away from your mind, in which case your verdict of is-stupid will have turned out to be correct. For you, at least. But for some of you it will recur. And recur. And recur. Each time it does, the steady march of your maturity will deepen its resonance. Each time that poem steals back into your mind, it will seem a little less stupid and a little more vital. A little more important. Until it shines, young ladies and gentlemen. Until it shines.

At some point in this course, perhaps even tonight, you will read something difficult, something you only partially understand, and your verdict will be this is stupid. Will I argue when you advance that opinion in class the next day? Why would I do such a useless ting? My time with you in short, only thirty-four weeks of classes, and I will not waste it arguing about the merits of this short story or that poem. Why would I, when all such opinions are subjective, and no final resolution can ever be reached?' Some of the kids - Gloria was one of them - now looked lost, but Pete understood exactly what Mr. Ricker, aka Ricky the Hippie, was talking about... 'Time is the answer," Mr Ricker said on the first day of Pete's sophomore year. He strode back and forth, antique bellbottoms swishing, occasionally waving his arms. "Yes! Time mercilessly culls away the is-stupid from the not-stupid." ... "It will occur for you, young ladies and gentlemen, although I will be in your rear-view mirror by the time it happens. Shall I tell you how it happens? You will read something - perhaps 'Dulce et Decorum Est,' by Wilfred Owen. Shall we use that as an example? Why not?' Then, in a deeper voice that sent chills up Pete's back and tightened his throat, Mr. Ricker cried, " 'Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge...' And son on. Cetra-cetra. Some of you will say, This is stupid." .... 'And yet!" Up went the finger. "Time will pass! Tempus will fugit! Owen's poem may fall away from your mind, in which case your verdict of is-stupid will have turned out to be correct. For you, at least. But for some of you, it will recur. And recur. Each time it does, the steady march of your maturity will deepen its resonance. Each time that poem sneaks back into your mind, it will seem a little less stupid and a little more vital. A little more important. Until it shines, young ladies and gentlemen. Until it shines.

Tempus Fugit...so Carpe Diem!

quot libros, quam breve tempus—so many books, so little time (and yes, I have the tee-shirt). In

Fili mi, tempus est ut praetermittantur simulacra nostra.

Tempus est Umbra in Mente.

tempus fugit, meaning time flies.

think tempus est umbra in mente is a better one. Roughly translated, it means time is a shadow in the mind.

Breve tempus ætatis satis est longum ad bene honesteque vivendum

Carus Amicus Mussaeus, Ah! Quod tempus, bonus Deus, Landerirette Imbre sumus perituri. And La Moussaye reassures him with: Securae sunt nostrae vitae Sumus enim Sodomitae Igne tantum perituri Landeriri.

 It was very hard to keep a straight face when I had seen a glimpse of her ‘oh-so-propah’ husband in pink women’s underwear.  There were few glimpses I’d ever regretted seeing, but that one was at the top of my list.

Na face dessa velha rainha das nossas catedrais, ao lado de uma ruga encontra-se sempre uma cicatriz. Tempus edax, homo edacior (o tempo devora, o homem mais ainda). Sentença que gostaria de traduzir como: o tempo é cego, o homem estúpido.

Tempus fugit is a good one,” she said, “but time doesn’t always fly, as everyone who’s ever had to wait around for something knows. I think tempus estumbra in mente is a better one. Roughly translated, it means time is a shadow in the mind.

On the face of this aged queen of our cathedrals, by the side of a wrinkle, one always finds a scar. Tempus edax, homo edacior*; which I should be glad to translate thus: time is blind, man is stupid.      *  Time is a devourer; man, more so.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji'un, Telah meninggal dunia ibu, oma, nenek kami tercinta.... Requiescat in pace et in amore, Telah dipanggil ke rumah Bapa di surga, anak, cucu kami terkasih.... Dalam sehari, Bunda menerima dua kabar (duka cita / suka cita) sekaligus. Apakah kesedihan serupa cucuran air hujan yang jatuh dan mengusik keheningan kolam? Apakah kebahagiaan seperti sebuah syair yang mesti dipertanyakan mengapa ia digubah? Bagaimana kita mesti menjawab pertanyaan tentang kematian orang orang terdekat? Mengapa mereka pergi? Kemana mereka akan pergi? Memento mori, serupa nyala api dan ngengat yang terbakar. Seperti juga lilin yang padam, bunga yang layu, ranting yang kering, pohon yang meranggas. Mereka hanyalah sebuah pertanda, bahwa semua yang hidup pasti akan mati. Agar kita senantiasa teringat pada tempus fugit, bahwa waktu yang berlalu  tak akan pernah kembali. Ketika Bunda masih muda, sesungguhnya Bunda sudah tidak lagi muda, tak akan pernah bertambah muda, tak akan kembali muda. Waktu telah merenggut kemudaan kita pelan pelan. Ketuaan adalah sebuah keniscayaan, dan kematian adalah sebuah kepastian. Tak ada sesuatu pun yang abadi, Anakku. Ingatan tentang mati semestinya memberi kita pelajaran berharga. Jangan pernah menyia nyiakan waktu. Jangan hilang niat untuk bangkit dari ranjang. Jangan terlalu malas untuk bekerja. Jangan terlalu letih untuk menuntaskan hari. Jangan pernah lupa untuk berdoa. Jangan lalai untuk bersyukur. Jadikan hari ini sebagai milikmu. Ketika semua perkara seakan menggiring langkahmu pada kesulitan, kegagalan, ketidakpastian dan rasa sakit. Pikirkanlah siapa yang akan jadi malaikat pelindung dan penolongmu? Bagaimana engkau akan menemukan eudaimonia? Bagaimana engkau hendak memaknai hidup? Dalam sekejap mata hidup bisa berubah. Waktu berlalu dan ia tak akan pernah kembali. Gunakan kesempatan untuk bercermin pada permukaan air yang jernih. Tatap langsung kedalaman telaga yang balik menatap kepada dirimu. Abaikan rasa sakit dan penderitaan, sebab puncak gunung sudah membayang di depan mata dan terbit matahari akan menghangatkan kalbumu. Cuma dirimu yang punya kendali atas pikiran, hasrat dan nafsu, perasaan dan kesadaran inderawi, persepsi, naluri dan semua tindakanmu sendiri. Ketika kita mengingat kematian, kita tidak akan lagi merasa gentar. Sebab ia lembut, ia tak lagi menakutkan. Ia justru menuntaskan segala rasa sakit dan penderitaan. Ia pengejawantahan waktu yang berharga, kecantikan yang abadi, indahnya rasa syukur, dan kemuliaan di balik setiap ucapan terima kasih. Ia mengajarkan kita bagaimana menghargai kehidupan yang sesungguhnya. Ia membimbing kita menemukan pintu takdir kita sendiri. Apapun perubahan yang menghampiri dirimu. Ia adalah pintu rahasia yang menjanjikan kejutan yang tak akan pernah kamu sangka sangka. Yang terbaik adalah menerimanya sebagai berkat. Apa yang ada dalam dirimu adalah kekuatanmu. Engkau akan membuatnya berarti. Bagi mereka yang paham, takdir dan kematian adalah sebuah karunia, seperti juga kehidupan. Sesungguhnyalah kita ini milik Allah dan kepada-Nyalah kita akan kembali.

How much time? Not as much as I had yesterday.

Pero todo pasa. Tú lo sabías mejor que yo: el mar nunca se detiene. Siempre ese movimiento, como la vida. Y hay que seguir reaccionando a ella. Siempre alerta. Siempre movimiento

Quid est enim tempus? Quis hoc facile breuiterque explicauerit? Quis hoc ad uerbum de illo proferendum uel cogitatione comprehenderit? Quid autem familiarius et notius in loquendo commemoramus quam tempus? Et intellegimus utique cum id loquimur, intellegimus etiam cum alio loquente id audimus. Quid est ergo tempus? Si nemo ex me quærat, scio; si quærenti explicare uelim, nescio. Fidenter tamen dico scire me quod, si nihil præteriret, non esset præteritum tempus, et si nihil adueniret, non esset futurum tempus, et si nihil esset, non esset præsens tempus. Duo ergo illa tempora, præteritum et futurum, quomodo sunt, quando et præteritum iam non est et futurum nondum est? Præsens autem si semper esset præsens nec in præteritum transiret, non iam esset tempus, sed æternitas. Si ergo præsens, ut tempus sit, ideo fit, quia in præteritum transit, quomodo et hoc esse dicimus, cui causa, ut sit, illa est, quia non erit, ut scilicet non uere dicamus tempus esse, nisi quia tendit non esse?

The formerly absolute distinction between time and eternity in Christian thought--between nunc movens with its beginning and end, and nunc stans, the perfect possession of endless life--acquired a third intermediate order based on this peculiar betwixt-and-between position of angels. But like the Principle of Complementarity, this concord-fiction soon proved that it had uses outside its immediate context, angelology. Because it served as a means of talking about certain aspects of human experience, it was humanized. It helped one to think about the sense, men sometimes have of participating in some order of duration other than that of the nunc movens--of being able, as it were, to do all that angels can. Such are those moments which Augustine calls the moments of the soul's attentiveness; less grandly, they are moments of what psychologists call 'temporal integration.' When Augustine recited his psalm he found in it a figure for the integration of past, present, and future which defies successive time. He discovered what is now erroneously referred to as 'spatial form.' He was anticipating what we know of the relation between books and St. Thomas's third order of duration--for in the kind of time known by books a moment has endless perspectives of reality. We feel, in Thomas Mann's words, that 'in their beginning exists their middle and their end, their past invades the present, and even the most extreme attention to the present is invaded by concern for the future.' The concept of aevum provides a way of talking about this unusual variety of duration-neither temporal nor eternal, but, as Aquinas said, participating in both the temporal and the eternal. It does not abolish time or spatialize it; it co-exists with time, and is a mode in which things can be perpetual without being eternal. We've seen that the concept of aevum grew out of a need to answer certain specific Averroistic doctrines concerning origins. But it appeared quite soon that this medium inter aeternitatem et tempus had human uses. It contains beings (angels) with freedom of choice and immutable substance, in a creation which is in other respects determined. Although these beings are out of time, their acts have a before and an after. Aevum, you might say, is the time-order of novels. Characters in novels are independent of time and succession, but may and usually do seem to operate in time and succession; the aevum co-exists with temporal events at the moment of occurrence, being, it was said, like a stick in a river. Brabant believed that Bergson inherited the notion through Spinoza's duratio, and if this is so there is an historical link between the aevum and Proust; furthermore this durée réelle is, I think, the real sense of modern 'spatial form,' which is a figure for the aevum.

Xanthippe recognized it.” “She would,” his mother said. “She once called for its destruction.” “And you didn’t think she’d wonder why I was in possession of it?” She shrugged. “Xan was my backup plan if you were too slow.” His mother had basically planned to set a half-mad dragon on him. She didn’t care if it would have made him look like an idiot: What do you mean Tempus? I’ve made no Tempus. I’m wearing my mother’s diamond chain. Why? She told me to. If it weren’t for the bitter smell of fire surrounding them, he might’ve laughed at the absurdity of it. Lady Voclain was more devious and ruthless than the rest of the Bloodkin put together. Her own son!

There may even be a real relation between certain kinds of effectiveness in literature and totalitarianism in politics. But although the fictions are alike ways of finding out about the human world, anti-Semitism is a fiction of escape which tells you nothing about death but projects it onto others; whereas King Lear is a fiction that inescapably involves an encounter with oneself, and the image of one's end. This is one difference; and there is another. We have to distinguish between myths and fictions. Fictions can degenerate into myths whenever they are not consciously held to be fictive. In this sense anti-Semitism is a degenerate fiction, a myth; and Lear is a fiction. Myth operates within the diagrams of ritual, which presupposes total and adequate explanations of things as they are and were; it is a sequence of radically unchangeable gestures. Fictions are for finding things out, and they change as the needs of sense-making change. Myths are the agents of stability, fictions the agents of change. Myths call for absolute, fictions for conditional assent. Myths make sense in terms of a lost order of time, illud tempus as Eliade calls it; fictions, if successful, make sense of the here and now, hoc tempus. It may be that treating literary fictions as myths sounds good just now, but as Marianne Moore so rightly said of poems, 'these things are important not because a / high-sounding interpretation can be put upon them but because they are / useful.

No es que haya cambiado algo. La vida, sencillamente, se había vuelto del revés. Como un calcetín al que se le ven las costuras o como una botella que alguien ha puesto boca abajo para vaciarla hasta la última gota. Todo ha cambiado. Yo he cambiado. [...] Qué pena damos todos con este intento desesperado de detener el paso de los años, de aferrarnos con las dos manos a los recuerdos para que no alcen el vuelo o se hunda o estallen como una burbuja de jabón.

Se quedan un momento inmóviles y en silencio, mirándose, hasta que Wenceslao sacude la cabeza en dirección al cordero y dice: —Lo despenamos y en paz. Más adelante será una res roja, vacía, colgando de un gancho, después se dorará despacio al fuego de las brasas, sobre la parrilla, al lado del horno, después será servido en pedazos sobre las fuentes de loza cachada, repartido, devorado, hasta que queden los huesos todavía jugosos, llenos de filamentos a medio masticar que los perros recogerán al vuelo con un tarascón rápido y seguro y enterrarán en algún lugar del campo al que regresarán en los momentos de hambruna y comenzarán a roer tranquilos y empecinados sosteniéndolos con las patas delanteras e inclinando de costado la cabeza para morder mejor, dando tirones cortos y enérgicos, hasta dejarlos hechos unas láminas o unos cilindros duros y resecos que los niños dispersarán, pateándolos o recogiéndolos para tirárselos entre ellos en los mediodías calcinados en que atravesarán el campo para comprar soda y vino en el almacén de Berini, objetos ya irreconocibles que quedarán semienterrados y ocultos por los yuyos en diferentes puntos del campo durante un tiempo incalculable, indefinido, en el que arados, lluvias, excavaciones, cataclismos, la palpitación de la tierra que se mueve continua bajo la apariencia del reposo, los pasearán del interior a la superficie, de la superficie al interior, cada vez más despedazados, más irreconocibles, hechos fragmentos, pulverizados, flotando impalpables en el aire o petrificados en la tierra, sustancia de todos los reinos tragada incesantemente por la tierra o incesantemente vuelta a vomitar, viajando por todos los reinos —vegetal, animal, mineral— y cristalizando en muchas formas diferentes y posibles, incluso en la de otros corderos, incluso en la de infinitos corderos, menos en la de ese cordero hacia el que ahora se dirige Wenceslao llevando el cuchillo y la palangana.

Tempus fugit,

The ‘l’ and ‘r’ sounds are frequent players in the dissimilation game, whether by switching places or dropping out. Because of this, Latin developed two endings to make a noun into an adjective, -alis or -aris, depending on whether there were other ‘l’s close by in the root. From vita (life), we get vit-alis (vital), “pertaining to life.” From tempus (time), we get tempor-alis (temporal), “pertaining to time.” But the adjectives from populus (the people) and regula (rule) were popul-aris and regul-aris. Populalis and regulalis were just too l-ful for Latin.

Luego tenemos a los vacunados. Los que recibimos el Esperantum terminamos por desarrollar una especie de rechazo hacia los no vacunados. Algunos perdían la cabeza y atacaban a los vivos, y ése fue el principal problema

1½ ounces mezcal ½ ounce crème de cacao, preferably Tempus Fugit ½ ounce ancho chile liqueur 3 dashes chocolate bitters Orange twist for garnish

People rely to much on looks alone, ignoring what's beneath. Physical attributes are nice, but by no means what's most important. There is so much more, but it is missed or ignored. There's a deeper connection to be had, for everyone, if they were only patient.

Tempus fugit. See fugitib nii, et vähe pole.

Tempus breve est, Ora et labora. We aren’t given much time on this earth.

Deborah glared at him, and he looked back; neither one of them blinked, breathed, or said a word, and for several long seconds it was her anger versus his gunfighter’s cool—fire against ice. It was an absolutely fascinating face-off, and under other circumstances I could have watched it all day just to see who would win. But things being what they were, I thought it had gone on quite long enough, and I cleared my throat in a deliberately artificial way. “Ahem,” I said, and they both glanced at me. “I really hate to interrupt,” I said, and nodded through the glass at Chapin. “But tempus is kind of fugiting, isn’t it?” They both stared at me and I felt as if one side of my face was melting and the other freezing. Then Chambers looked at Debs with one eyebrow raised, she looked back at him and finally nodded, and the spell was broken. “Where’s your partner?” Chambers said. “He should be here for this.” Deborah shook her head. “He’s not answering,” she said, “and I can’t wait.

Ego autem sum quasi vas inane,’ he began awkwardly, stuttering along the lines of meaningless prose like a small child. ‘Ego donavit corpus meum ad dominum meum in exercitu magno Cardinalis Balthazar De La Senza,’ he continued, quickly becoming surprisingly fluent despite his vaguely cockney tone. ‘Tempore domini Inquisitoris magni voluntatis esse, aequo animo et scissa animam meam a fundamentis et suspensi in abyssum quasi stercora, nihil prorsus in aeternum damnatus egisse,’ he went on, oblivious to something stirring in the small box behind him. Wisps of purple drifted from it like steam from a cooling kettle. ‘Ego Christophorus Baxtere accipe usitata res est, uti et magnis La Senza caput meum corium et nervorum et magnifici primum genus dentium,’ Baxter continued, strangely enjoying himself. Far away in another place, the bound and trapped Cardinal La Senza had begun to whisper the words in unison beneath the folds of his hooded cloak. Oblivious, Baxter was flying now, quite unaware of the sinister coaching he was receiving. ‘O magnum La Senza, cum venerit, et ad hoc bonum esse propter tempus, quia ego miser!’ Baxter read on. A coiling snake-like tendril of purple had fingered its way through the lock of the cabinet and was creeping menacingly towards its target. It advanced up Baxter’s legs, body and neck until finally, it crept imperceptibly into his ears. ‘Ego Christophorus Baxtere immolare volens alumnam cerebrum meum et animam, ut vos mos postulo ut enable uariat possessione tua ...’ Pleased beyond measure by what he had fondled and explored, La Senza went still. Content for now, he drew back his sensing vines and they fell away from Baxter, unnoticed. His jailors had seen nothing. La Senza now had the chance he’d been craving for centuries, so many lifetimes of plotting and scheming. He knew nothing of the young man he had inspected so intimately – frankly, he didn’t care. It was the body, oh his body, so young and fit; teeth clean like white mice, no trace of Popery, no hint of Lutheran, Baptist, Jew, Muslim or Buddhist within his empty soul, nothing to restrain or inhibit the Inquisitor’s foul purposes. La Senza knew that his escape was mere days away. Immobile, he marshalled dark reserves for the events to come. ‘Nunc me vacua est anima mea praeparata et redditur supersunt, La Senza venit, et possident me! Sincere vestrum, Christopher Baxter,’ finished Chris, with a flourish. ‘Bravo Mr Baxter,’ said Ascot McCauley, standing as he clapped enthusiastically. ‘Bravo!

Stone checked his watch. Tempus fugit. “Gotta

Și a zis Domnul: <>. Noe însă a aflat har înaintea Domnului Dumnezeu. (1 - apud Facerea, 6:5-8)" (pag. 13)

Astfel începe cartea Facerii istoria Vechiului Testament, prin hotărârea lui Dumnezeu de a distruge omenirea și de a-l salva pe Noe (...) împreună cu familia lui și cu animalele din arcă, prevenindu-l la timp." (pag. 13)

Dar deseori originea unor imagini gresite asupra istoriei se afla in prezentari curajos falsificate. Atunci revendicarile se bazeaza pe documente falsificate, iar barbati antipatici (si mai ales femei) din istorie sunt intentionat calomniati si prezentati altfel decat erau in realitate. Un eveniment istoric este privit dintr-o perspectiva atat de ingusta, incat judecarea adevarului istoric este evident gresita". (pag. 10)

the slipping away is the whole point. Once you’ve achieved choiceless awareness, you see so clearly how fleeting everything is. Impermanence is no longer theoretical. Tempus fugit isn’t just something you inscribe in books and clocks.

impending separation.             They had waffles and scrambled

Tempus breve est, Ora et labora. We aren’t given much time on this earth. We have to pray and work, not go pushing our luck with soccer pools.

person

someone

loud

but

Quid te exempta iuvat spinis de pluribus una? Vivere si recte nescis, decede periitis. Lusisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti: Tempus abire tibi est.* Sana ne yardım eder birçok zorluktan uzak durmanda? Yaşamayı doğru bilmiyorsan deneyimlerinle terk et. Yeterince eğlendin, yeterince yedin ve içtin: Senin için gitme vaktidir.

Tempus fugit,

Tempus fugit.

A festival always takes place in the original time. It is precisely the reintegration of this original and sacred time that differentiates man's behavior during the festival from his behavior before or after it. For in many cases the same acts are performed during the festival as during nonfestival periods. But religious man believes that he then lives in another time, that he has succeeded in returning to the mythical Mud tempus.

Tempus before battle, Umberlee during a storm, and Auril when the cold weather proves a threat—

That’s Luna Nyx.” Her lip practically curled with distaste. “Mistress of Nightmares. And Tempus’ ex-wife.

Mihi crede, magna pars ex iis quos amavimus, licet ipsos casus abstulerit, apud nos manet; nostrum est quod praeterit tempus nec quicquam est loco tutiore quam quod fuit. (Letters to Lucilius, 99.4) Trust me, the greater part of those we’ve loved, though chance stole them away, stays with us; time passed is ours, and nothing stands on surer footing than that which once was.

Omen bené Sine pœnâ Tempus est ludendi. Venit hora Abeque morâ Libros deponendi.

Omne bené Sine pœnâ Tempus est ludendi. Venit hora Abeque morâ Libros deponendi.

Tempus edax rerum,” Monty said. “Time is the devourer of all things.” “Those words,” I said as the realization hit me.

Tempus est umbra in mente - Time is a shadow in the mind

tempus fugit,

Il ne connaissait que le combat brutal, au paroxysme de la violence. Sa conception répondait beaucoup plus à celle des masses qui venaient se faire tuer devant nos lignes qu’à celle d’un escrimeur élégant qui sait rompre pour pouvoir mieux porter le coup décisif. A l’art de la guerre il substituait finalement la force brutale, dont l’efficacité était garantie par la puissance de la volonté qui l’employait.

Si Hitler s’en tint de plus en plus au principe de la défense à tout prix ce fut parce que cette méthode répondait à sa nature profonde. Il ne connaissait que le combat brutal, au paroxysme de la violence. Sa conception répondait beaucoup plus à celle des masses qui venaient se faire tuer devant nos lignes qu’à celle d’un escrimeur élégant qui sait rompre pour pouvoir mieux porter le coup décisif. A l’art de la guerre il substituait finalement la force brutale, dont l’efficacité était garantie par la puissance de la volonté qui l’employait.

When Britain colonized Australia in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it drew on a legal doctrine now known as terra nullius—“nobody’s land”—to justify its conquest and treat the indigenous population as if they didn’t exist or have any claims on the land.8 Today our societal attitude is one of tempus nullius: The future is seen as “nobody’s time,” an unclaimed territory that is similarly devoid of inhabitants.

There once were two watchmakers, named Hora and Tempus. Both of them made fine watches, and they both had many customers. People dropped into their stores, and their phones rang constantly with new orders. Over the years, however, Hora prospered, while Tempus became poorer and poorer. That’s because Hora discovered the principle of hierarchy.… The watches made by both Hora and Tempus consisted of about one thousand parts each. Tempus put his together in such a way that if he had one partly assembled and had to put it down—to answer the phone, say—it fell to pieces. When he came back to it, Tempus would have to start all over again. The more his customers phoned him, the harder it became for him to find enough uninterrupted time to finish a watch. Hora’s watches were no less complex than those of Tempus, but he put together stable subassemblies of about ten elements each. Then he put ten of these subassemblies together into a larger assembly; and ten of those assemblies constituted the whole watch. Whenever Hora had to put down a partly completed watch to answer the phone, he lost only a small part of his work. So he made his watches much faster and more efficiently than did Tempus.

Mihi crede, magna pars ex iis quos amavimus, licet ipsos casus abstulerit, apud nos manet; nostrum est quod praeterit tempus nec quicquam est loco tutiore quam quod fuit. (Letters to Lucilius, 99.4) Trust me, the greater part of those we’ve loved, though chance stole them away, stays with us; time passed is ours, and nothing stands on surer footing than that which once was. Seneca

Tempus

tempus fugit, you know; time waits for no one!

itaque ipse cum tergo ad arborem consedit, neque tempus fuit ultimum in quo de foramine-hobbito, quod longissime afuit, cum cellis eius pulchris cogitauit.