The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.

The hours trip rapidly away, hiding their dreams in their skirts.

We cross infinity with every step; we meet eternity in every second.

Time is a wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

Only time will tell if it was time well-spent.

It may be that there is no such thing as an equable motion, whereby time may be accurately measured. All motions may be accelerated or retarded, but the true, or equable, progress of absolute time is liable to no change.