What is time?
The shadow on a dial, the striking of the clock,
the running of the sand,
day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries -
these are but arbitrary and outward signs,
the measure of Time, not Time itself.
Time is the Life of the Soul.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Light of Time
But there is something about Time.
The sun rises and sets.
The stars swing slowly across the sky and fade.
Clouds fill with rain and snow, empty themselves, and fill again.
The moon is born, and dies, and is reborn.
Around millions of clocks swing hour hands,
and minute hands, and second hands.
Around goes the continual circle of the notes of the scale.
Around goes the circle of night and day,
the circle of weeks forever revolving, and of months, and of years.
-Madeleine L'Engle
The sun rises and sets.
The stars swing slowly across the sky and fade.
Clouds fill with rain and snow, empty themselves, and fill again.
The moon is born, and dies, and is reborn.
Around millions of clocks swing hour hands,
and minute hands, and second hands.
Around goes the continual circle of the notes of the scale.
Around goes the circle of night and day,
the circle of weeks forever revolving, and of months, and of years.
-Madeleine L'Engle
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