Time (n.) is a realm in which the goal is not to have, but to be, not to own, but to give, not to control, but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord with.
Time (n.) was all Israel owned at Sinai, no land and no territory, only a promise, so keeping faith with events became its whole future.
Time (n.) ranks just beneath eternity, not infinitely far from it.
Time (n.) is a circle with its center everywhere and its edge nowhere, so no single hour is the hub of history.
Time (n.) keeps what space loses: objects disappear, but moments are never gone.
Time (n.) is where uniqueness lives: two stones may match, two hours of a life never do.
Time (n.) is the worst obstacle to God, said Meister Eckhart, down to its very taint and smell.
Time (n.) slips away, and yet Judaism holds that eternity is germinating within it.
Time (n.) ranks only a little below eternity.
Time (n.) is how God is present in the world; each moment is his quiet arrival, and our task is to show up.
Time (n.) is lent, not owned; I live through its moments without possessing a single one.
Time (n.) is eternity bent by space, the way water bends a ray of light.
Time (n.) is the only property we truly own, and the one we never get to hold.
Time (n.) is the flimsiest of things: the present leaves before we can notice it.
Time (n.) flows through a no-time's-land; to be aware of time at all requires something that is not time.
Time (n.) is eternity's fringe, tassels woven from the same cloth as the garment.
Time (n.) seen as passing isolates every instant; seen as eternity, it is where we commune, worship and love.
Time (n.) is the frontier where all our mastery of space suddenly runs out, and it is also the heart of existence.
Time (n.) looks, to a mind that trusts only things, like a monster with a furnace for a mouth, eating each moment we live.
Time (n.) cannot be beaten with territory; whatever mastery of it we gain happens inside time itself.