Time (n.) is like a river made up of the events which happen, and its current is strong, no sooner does anything appear than it is swept away and another comes in its place, and will be swept away too.
Time (n.) is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away.
Time (n.) is like a river of fleeting events.
Time (n.) is a river — a violent current of events: each glimpsed only once and already swept past, with another close behind it and gone.
Time (n.) has swallowed a Chrysippus, a Socrates and an Epictetus many times over — and for "Epictetus" read anyone, and anything.
Time (n.) is a fixed allowance; if you do not use it to calm your soul, it will pass away — and you with it — and never come back.
Time (n.) is a river of passing events, a swift current: no sooner is a thing seen than it is swept away, and another comes and will be swept off too.
Time (n.) for doing the right things need not be long: even three hours of it are enough.
Time (n.) is a great river: no sooner has a thing come into being than it is washed away, and something else is carried into view.