It is impossible to meditate on time and the mystery of the creative passage of nature without an overwhelming emotion at the limitations of human intelligence.
Alfred North Whitehead
Time is nature's way of keeping everything from happening at once.
...the passage of time is to be regarded as merely a feature of our conciousness that has no objective physical significance. This sophisticated hypothesis makes the concept of time completely subordinate to that of space.
Einstein as paraphrased by GJ Whitrow in The Nature of Time
In the beginning there was nothing, which exploded.
Lords and Ladies - Terry Pratchett
Time flies like an arrow but fruit flies like a banana.
Attributed to Groucho Marx
Up the street in the Sailors Arms, Sinbad Sailor, grandson of Mary Ann Sailors, draws a pint in the sunlit bar. The ship's clock in the bar says half past eleven. Half past eleven is opening time. The hands of the clock have stayed still at half past eleven for fifty years. It is always opening time in the Sailors Arms.
Under Milk Wood - Dylan Thomas
Lord Cut-Glass, in his kitchen full of time, squats down alone to a dogdish, marked Fido, of peppery fish-scraps and listens to the voices of his sixty-six clocks, one for each year of his loony age, and watches, with love, their black-and-white moony loudlipped faces tocking the earth away: slow clocks, quick clocks, pendulumed heart-knocks, china, alarm, grandfather, cuckoo; clocks shaped like Noah's whirring Ark, clocks that bicker in marble ships, clocks in the wombs of glass women, hourglass chimers, tu-wit-tuwoo clocks, clocks that pluck tunes, Vesuvius clocks all black bells and lava, Niagara clocks that cataract their ticks, old time weeping clocks with ebony beards, clocks with no hands for ever drumming out time without ever knowing what time it is. His sixty-six singers are all set at different hours. Lord Cut-Glass lives in a house and a life at siege. Any minute or dark day now, the unknown enemy will loot and savage downhill, but they will not catch him napping. Sixty-six different times in his fish-slimy kitchen ping, strike, tick, chime, and tock.
To the last syllable of recorded time.
Macbeth - Shakespeare