We may cry out desperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is adamant to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residues of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words, "Too late."

My favorite things in life don't cost any money. It's really clear that the most precious resource we all have is time.

O time, swift robber of all created things, how many kings, how many nations hast thou undone, and how many changes of states and of various events have happened since the wondrous forms of this fish perished here in this cavernous and winding recess. Now destroyed by time thou liest patiently in this confined space with bones stripped and bare; serving as a support and prop for the superimposed mountain.

Space I can recover. Time, never.

Whatever shall we do in that remote spot? Well, we will write our memoirs. Work is the scythe of time.

Strategy is the art of making use of time and space. I am less concerned about the later than the former. Space we can recover, lost time never.