"Sometimes now was enough. Sometimes it was everything." ― Mary Balogh, Simply Perfect Your time goes, where your attention goes
Better three hours too soon,
Better three hours too soon,
Better three hours too soon,
than a minute too late : Shakespeare


Your time goes, where your attention goes Your time goes, where your attention goes

Clocks will always have different sized hands, but not feet." ― Anthony T. Hincks

"The biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three on them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4, and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in a hurry to get on to the next things: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less." ― Anna Quindlen, Loud and Clear

In this moment, there is plenty of time. In this moment, you are precisely as you should be. In this moment, there is infinite possibility. (17)"
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"But now isn't simply now. Now is also a cold reminder: one whole day later than yesterday, one year later than last year. Every now is labeled with its date, rendering all past nows obsolete, until — later of sooner — perhaps — no, not perhaps — quite certainly: it will come." ― Christopher Isherwood, A Single Man

"Music is formed by instruments, framed with notes, paced by our hands playing with Time, but above all, it is made up of emotions. It transports you back to moments when you felt most alive. If it doesn't release your locked feelings, music is just air." ― Joseph Legaspi, A Three-Year Minute

All you realy need to do is accept this moment fully. You are then at ease in the here and now and at ease with yourself." ― Eckhart Tolle, Practicing the Power of Now: Essential Teachings, Meditations, and Exercises from the Power of Now

Remember, time is the most precious gift of all.

"When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence." ― William Shakespeare, Sonnets

"The finished clock is resplendent. At first glance it is simply a clock, a rather large black clock with a white face and a silver pendulum. Well crafted, obviously, with intricately carved woodwork edges and a perfectly painted face, but just a clock. But that is before it is wound. Before it begins to tick, the pendulum swinging steadily and evenly. Then, then it becomes something else. The changes are slow. First, the color changes in the face, shifts from white to grey, and then there are clouds that float across it, disappearing when they reach the opposite side. Meanwhile, bits of the body of the clock expand and contract, like pieces of a puzzle. As though the clock is falling apart, slowly and gracefully. All of this takes hours. The face of the clock becomes a darker grey, and then black, with twinkling stars where numbers had been previously. The body of the clock, which has been methodically turning itself inside out and expanding, is now entirely subtle shades of white and grey. And it is not just pieces, it is figures and objects, perfectly carved flowers and planets and tiny books with actual paper pages that turn. There is a silver dragon that curls around part of the now visible clockwork, a tiny princess in a carved tower who paces in distress, awaiting an absent prince. Teapots that pour into teacups and minuscule curls of steam that rise from them as the seconds tick. Wrapped presents open. Small cats chase small dogs. An entire game of chess is played. At the center, where a cuckoo bird would live in a more traditional timepiece, is the juggler. Dress in harlequin style with a grey mask, he juggles shiny silver balls that correspond to each hour. As the clock chimes, another ball joins the rest until at midnight he juggles twelve balls in a complex pattern. After midnight, the clock begins once more to fold in upon itself. The face lightens and the cloud returns. The number of juggled balls decreases until the juggler himself vanishes. By noon it is a clock again, and no longer a dream." ― Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus

"The knowledge that he had left me with no intent ever to return had come over me in tiny droplets of realization spread over the years. And each droplet of comprehension brought its own small measure of hurt...He had wished me well in finding my own fate to follow, and I never doubted his sincerity. But it had taken me years to accept that his absence in my life was a deliberate finality, an act he had chosen, a thing completed even as some part of my soul still dangled, waiting for his return." ― Robin Hobb, Fool's Assassin

"But, someone, please give me—who is born again but still so much in need of being born anew—give me the details of how to live in the waiting cocoon before the forever begins?" ― Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

"Everything comes to him who waits, except a loaned book." ― Kin Hubbard

"Eric understands that the world is rarely the way it is supposed to be. And he knows that, given the chance, we don't have to wait for someone to make messes of our lives. We do a good enough job, ourselves." ― Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts

"On the plains of hesitation bleach the bones of countless millions who, at the dawn of decision, sat down to wait, and waiting died" ― George W. Cecil

"Clearly, all fear has an element of resistance and a leaning away from the moment. Its dynamic is not unlike that of strong desire except that fear leans backward into the last safe moment while desire leans forward toward the next possibility of satisfaction. Each lacks presence. (29)" ― Stephen Levine, A Year to Live: How to Live This Year as If It Were Your Last

"When you're looking for a needle in a haystack, don't afraid to burn the haystack to save yourself from spending half your life picking through strands of straw." ― A.J. Darkholme, Rise of the Morningstar

"Time spent worrying - about anything - provides no emotional or physical benefit to us; such things only weaken us for the fights we must endure in our lives." ― A.J. Darkholme, Rise of the Morningstar

"Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report written on birds that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books about birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, "Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird." ― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

"Every choice in life sets us on a different path and carries its own set of "what ifs" and consequences that we could worry about, but what's the use? Rather than plaguing our thoughts with the unknown, we should focus on and accept only what we do know – and all we know is the path we're currently on." ― A.J. Darkholme, Rise of the Morningstar