Eternity (n.) grants presence in the moment. It comes into time, and one enters it forwards, not backwards into an (already existant eternity lying in) the past.
Eternity (n.) does not lie outside time for the classics but in the midst of it, where the immortals are introduced not once for all but again and again as each generation turns its gaze on them.
Eternity (n.) keeps a ledger quite different from a scrapbook: the man who talks every day in Parliament about what the age requires may have less to recollect than the man who keeps silent.
Eternity (n.) lingers in the summer evening, which teaches the insatiable mind to be satisfied with little — for in the evening hours time stands still.
Eternity (n.) is never God's fault; it is the misery of the temporal being that he is nothing — so his business is not to squabble with God for being great, but to consider his own lowliness and stand fast.
Eternity (n.) is the only place where lovers are free: in the consciousness of the infinite each partner is free, and only thus can I understand that people love one another.
Eternity (n.) is pictured as a wide horizon where nothing can be seen — but if time can part lovers, and in eternity he stood in her way, where could he go?
Eternity (n.) will not be mocked — yet it needs no force; it punishes the presumptuous man with a bit of mockery of its own.
Eternity (n.) is a dynamometer that never wears out: a worn gauge lets even a weak man pass, but eternity's test of faith stays unchanged through all the ages.
Eternity (n.) never asks what a man can do; it calmly assumes every man can achieve the highest, and asks only whether he did.
Eternity (n.) is not a stage — it is truth.
Eternity (n.) is suspicious of promises, as it is suspicious of everything immediate; the world loves promises because the world is the immediate and a promise looks so good at first.
Eternity (n.) will surprise us twice: missing some we were sure to find there, and finding there some we excluded — better than ourselves, and in the very thing for which we excluded them.
Eternity (n.) counted on to reveal at last whether someone really was a deceiver proves only that one is not the true lover, who has love's eternal happiness already in himself.
Eternity (n.) is a festal hall walled with mirrors that leaves dishonor not the smallest crevice to hide in.
Eternity (n.) has time enough: the lover who expects eternally expects each moment the same, and so is without disquietude.
Eternity (n.) will look puzzled when the rich man answers “I gave a hundred thousand dollars to the poor,” and ask again: have you been merciful? — understanding him no more than a mountain or the wind would.
Eternity (n.) says about a man exactly what he said about others; it may be well not to know what the town says of you, since it may be untrue — but what help is it not to know what eternity says, if it is the truth?
Eternity (n.) is glimpsed in two appalling contrasts: the ruined bookkeeper repeating forever “7 and 6 are 14,” and the harem beauty reclining without a care in the world.
Eternity (n.) lies not behind the either/or, as the mediating philosophers think, but before it.