Time, flowing like a river Time, beckoning me Who knows when we shall meet again If ever But time Keeps flowing like a river To the sea

In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.

In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes: so with time present.

At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present doesn't change.

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.

At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present does not change.

I used to think there was no time like the present. I used to think there was no time but the present. Now I know better — or different, anyway. In the end, the past will always be there. The past is all there is: the present never sticks around for long enough, and the future is anybody’s guess. In time, you always have to hand it to the past. It always gets you in the end.

The water you touch in a river is the last of that which has passed, and the first of that which is coming. Thus it is with time present.

For men, time is a river. We are trapped in its flow, hurtling from past to present, always in the same direction.

For in the popular way of thinking, history draws a time “line,” as if time marched in lockstep in only one direction. Some people say that time is a river into which we can step but once, as it flows in a straight path to the sea. But Nanabozho’s people know time as a circle. Time is not a river running inexorably to the sea, but the sea itself — its tides that appear and disappear, the fog that rises to become rain in a different river. All things that were will come again.

time past and time future
what might have been and what has been
point to one end, which is always present.

I know I can't change the past, but as the river keeps flowing, I'll keep on moving on.

You can step in the same river but the water will always be new.

The water you touch in a river is the last of that which has passed, and the first of that which is coming. Thus it is with time present.

Life, if well spent, is long.